When It's Over

I have had some medical mysteries over the past year that remain unsolved. While they are relatively minor in nature, I generally catch a ride on the "worst case scenario" train and end up fretting that I am dealing with something serious that will only become more difficult to manage because it wasn't identified early enough. I am usually afraid while waiting for my appointments.

And yet...

There are other times I think to myself, "maybe God is finally giving me the end I requested." I try not to indulge in such thoughts, but there are moments I can't help it. Then I wish I would have my answer sooner so I could just get it over with.

I ponder what would happen after I was gone. Who would come to my funeral? Did I make enough of an impact on any of my students that they would show up? Some of my friends live out of town; I don't see them very often anymore. Would they think the journey was worthwhile? Heck, some of my friends live in the same city, and I don't see them very much, either. Would they shy away from me even then?

What would my school say? They would have to address it, I assume, since I'm a current faculty member in (presumably) good standing. What would be written in my obituary? What would I be remembered for? Did I even do anything worth remembering?

Now, permit me to clean out some of the dark rooms of my mind for a moment.

These are all similar thoughts I would have when I considered suicide, though I had additional considerations when I pondered that.

Take, for example, the question of what my school would say. If I had ended my own life, as opposed to dying of some illness, would the school sweep it under the rug? Would I be considered less worthy? Would they fail to mention my funeral or even discourage students from attending it?

There were a lot of factors I considered when thinking about a method of suicide. I'm not going to go into details because, for one thing, it's unnecessary, and, for another thing, it's unethical to ruminate on such matters when my words could be harmful to a reader who is also suffering from depression. It's sufficient to mention that pain, time, side effects of failure, and impact on loved ones were all topics that crossed my mind, as they do for anyone thinking about death in general. During my teenage years, I didn't want to hurt anyone. I preferred that authorities would find me, but in case it was anyone else, I figured the scene should be as peaceful as possible.

I have children now. No matter how "peaceful" the scene might be, the possibility that they would be the ones to find it weighs heavily on me. Maybe they wouldn't understand it presently, but someday they would learn that I chose to end my own life. They might wonder, as many survivors do, why they weren't enough for me to choose to stay.

Even if my mind - my frequent enemy - tells me that my children would be better off without me, the thought of them experiencing pain, thinking that they weren't "enough," is a nightmare full of anguish for me. Things get bad, there is no doubt about that, but the last thing I want to do is transfer my suffering to them.

So while we are at it, God, can you make these medical issues go away? I have more of my story left to write...

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