I’ve been wondering lately about what is going to happen to me after I do this….is it going to be all fire and brimstone? Or are there going to be fluffy clouds and angels playing harps? Or is it going to be dark nothingness? Or reincarnation in a world exactly like this one? Or maybe a world like this one but slightly better or slightly worse….
For some reason I thought about the sister of an acquaintance of mine who killed herself several years ago. I barely knew the acquaintance, let alone her sister. But I have this vivid memory of going grocery shopping with the two of them and their mom. The sister wanted the mom to buy these pre-portioned packages of cheese. The mom said they were too expensive and the sister was very disappointed. In an effort to make her feel better the mom said “look, when you grow up and move out on your own, you can make the decision to spend money for the privilege of pre-portioned cheese”.
The sister completed suicide a few years later, as a young adult, still living at home, and (likely) not purchasing her own groceries. I thought about how devastated her family must be and what a waste of potential it was…and for some ridiculous reason, it also occurred to me how tragic it was that she would never get to buy those pre-portioned cheese packages that she wanted so badly that day. Even at the time I fully acknowledged the absurdity of that thought…
And yet, maybe it’s not so absurd after all. Now that I am feeling suicidal myself (and have been for quite some time), it seems that small luxuries like pre-portioned cheese packets are so far out of my grasp that they might as well be yachts and Ferraris.
I am not just referring to those items that can be bought (although that girl’s mom was right–those pre-portioned cheese packets are a freaking fortune!), I’m referring to less tangible things as well: functional relationships, a job that pays the bills, a sense that I’m contributing to the world in some manner as opposed to just taking up space, a permanent home, a feeling of hope for my future……a day, just one day, that doesn’t feel like torture.
When small things that so many people take for granted are just so far out of reach, it is devastating. If it’s one or two things, well, okay, that’s life…but when SO many things elude you time and time again, well…that’s enough to trigger a sense of hopelessness and despair in anyone.
As for the after life…I just hope it holds at least a FEW of the things that I coudn’t seem to get in this life. I don’t even care which ones…just…please let me experience SOMETHING that I wanted…
And as for my aquaintance’s sister, I hope wherever she is, she’s finally had a taste of those pre-portioned cheese packets. Make no mistake, I still think she died far too young, and I really wish she had managed to find a way to stay alive…but since that wasn’t the case, I hope she at least managed to find some sense of the contentment that eluded her in life. And I hope I can too…
1 comment
This is intense and touching.
“When small things that so many people take for granted are just so far out of reach, it is devastating. If it’s one or two things, well, okay, that’s life…but when SO many things elude you time and time again, well…that’s enough to trigger a sense of hopelessness and despair in anyone.”
I wish the non-depressed world would understand this. The cliches of “Just get over it”, “Things aren’t as bad as you think” etc. ad nauseum are so boring. Well intentioned, but useless, when you’re swimming in an ocean of emptiness with no shore in sight and rapidly depleting strength. At some point, it becomes most practical to just stop swimming.
I wonder the same things. And find I care less and less. I figure my brain is where the issue lies, in the cognitive processes of my pessimism which have been formed as a result of past experiences. I spend my time repeating all the insults, reliving all the disrespect and invalidation, so it’s no wonder when I hope for a moment of good it doesn’t arrive because I reaffirm that I don’t deserve it, and if only I was a better person, I would.
Just repeating what was programmed in.
So, when that recording stops, whatever is left, if there’s anything, will be freed from the burden of . . . the “me” it’s been forced to live with for decades. As for what’s next, its anyones guess. If it needs to be eternal damnation, oh well, so be it. Big deal. If it’s white puffy clouds and plates of pre-sectioned cheese, so be it. If it’s nothing but dark unawareness of everything, even better.
It’s laughable at this point anyways.