My friend Danie, who has struggled with depression for years and years, decided she was done. While inpatient at the Neuropsychiatric Institute, Danie decided to end things on her terms. When they found her, they tried for over 45 minutes before they could revive her. Unfortunately, it was too late. She was declared clinically brain dead. She was a big supporter of organ donation, so although she's technically dead, she's still artificially alive so they can keep the organs alive until they're ready for them. That is kind of hard for me to fathom. Until they say definitively that she's gone, there is a part of me that doesn't believe it. I just can't.
I haven't seen her probably since I was 15 years old, so more than half of my life. We met in junior high, and I moved away my sophomore year of high school. But we reconnected several years ago on Facebook, and we kept tabs on each other. She was very open about her struggles with depression and self-harming. She voluntarily sought help and therapies of various natures. She fought very hard, but ultimately, I guess she thought she wasn't strong enough to beat her demons.
I am proud of her for fighting so hard for so long. Though I wasn't anyone significant in her life, I am taking this quite hard. She was my friend, and though I tried to encourage her and offered my help, I have a lot of "what ifs" and "I should haves." I've dealt with depression. I know my experiences pale in comparison to hers, but I'm just saying, I've been there. It's hard, and it's ugly, and it seems to never end. It's an exhausting struggle. But the thing is.... I'm pretty sure Danie had no idea how strong she truly was. And so I grieve more than just the fact that she's gone.
This is kind of my latest Catch-22. I'm so happy at the thought she finally has the peace that has eluded her since her youth. I'm happy at the thought that she got what she wanted. Does that make me happy that she got it the way she did? Of course not. But I have to admit, this does kind of change my opinion of suicide.
I generally had the attitude that suicide is pure selfishness. Sure, that person has escaped the situation, but what of those they leave behind? But now I'm feeling humbled and actually ashamed of that. I'm not sure I realized in my heart how judgmental that is. I'm realizing that there is no black or white, it's just shades of gray. Every situation and the person involved is different. I hate that people feel like their only option is suicide, but of course, I'm not in their shoes, living their lives or feeling their pain. That said, it's still heartbreaking for those left behind. But it's bad enough to grieve for those who took that route. I don't need to judge their actions, too.
I've had loved ones die from cancer, cerebral hemorrhage, car accidents, organ failure, heart attacks, etc. I've had loved ones attempt to take their own lives, but Danie's the closest to me that has succeeded. And I've come to learn that losing someone through suicide hurts much more than illness or accident. There's one very vivid memory I have of her. We were sitting in gym class, and because I had been being bullied, I had tried to train myself to be stoic and save emotions of any kind for when I got home. Happy, sad, it didn't seem to matter to the girls who picked on me. They could find anything to mock me about. Anyway, back to gym class. I forget what we were discussing, but Danie looked me straight in the eyes and said I was apathetic. Not knowing what that meant but not wanting to admit it, I didn't ask for clarification. I wish I would have. Because the truth was, I was never apathetic. I cared very much. I was just afraid that showing my feelings would lead to more unpleasantness. That incident has stuck with me through the years. I've tried to become more of an open book, easier to talk to, and more easily able to show my interest. I do sincerely care about people, and I've tried to show it more ever since I learned that she thought I was apathetic. Danie taught me a life lesson that day, and I'm thankful for that. Sometimes I still struggle with coming across as apathetic or unfazed about things that are actually very important to me. Just something I have to continually work on, I suppose.
I hope she knows how truly unapathetic I was when it came to her. I hope she knows how loved she was. I hope she has peace and happiness and everything she wanted but could never seem to find. I hope her husband finds joy in the years to come. I hope one day I'll see her again and we'll laugh together. I hope she knows how much I already know I will miss her, but mostly I hope she knows that I'll never forget her.
“If something comes to life in others because of you, then you have made an approach to immortality.”
― Norman Cousins
― Norman Cousins
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