The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, estimates there are 117 suicides a day. For every suicide death, 25 other suicide attempts are made. On September 8, 2015, the following was part of my post on suicide:
I’ve sat in Emergency waiting rooms praying for friends who, at the last moment, reached out to say “I can’t go on. I’ve taken pills X & Y soon the pain and sadness will be gone.”
I’ve tried “talking” friends down, to put one foot behind the other, to step away from the abyss, back towards the light.
I also know what goes on in your head when the emotional/physical pain is too much, when guilt, feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness make death seem like a solution. An aching loneliness, a world without love and friendship, a world that would be better without, and wouldn’t miss you. A darkness deeper than a black hole.
It doesn’t mean those things are truths or truisms. The abyss makes it difficult to see the sky; to believe other than what those bitter, brittle emotions spew.
People do heal; they are able to listen to different words and believe them. I’ve written a shadorma (the burying gown) and a tilus (the binding) for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge 112, thinking of the jagged emotion pain that rips me but leaves no signs upon my skin. How I feel/felt when the demon voices, howls, and whispers fill all the voids in my head and heart.
image: Oleg Oprisco
all my boundaries
dead black dress
corpse cloth entwines bloodied wrists
dried leaves suffuse red