Musings on Suicide

I thought about suicide. For many years, I contemplated whether it was worth it to leave the life I hated for something else. I didn't just hate my life either; I hated my body and resented my self. Every time I looked in the mirror, I loathed the thing looking back at me. Then, for years, I couldn't even look myself in the eye -- I didn't even turn on the lights to get dressed or use the restroom, because I didn't want to see my body. I hated every morning, because every night I wished I would die in my dreams. I was in a bad place mentally for a very long time, and I felt pain every day by just existing.

Now, I watch a law show about suicide. A woman was suicidal after the man in her life broke up with her, and the woman turned to another who supported the decision for people to commit suicide. The difference, though, is that the advocate was terminally ill and was slowly dying a painful death.

So I sit here and think about my beliefs on suicide, both assisted and self inflicted.

I've attended to a man who had Huntington's Disease, a neurological wasting disease. I couldn't imagine the kind of life I would have if I was suffering as he was. I would seriously consider ending my life while I could. Even in my family, I have seen certain cancers cause endless amounts of suffering -- the kind of cancers that you cannot recover from.

On the flip side, there are many diseases that are treatable and even curable if you have the help you need. Diabetes, for example, is treatable and manageable with a good support system and insulin. Some STIs and STDs are curable now, and many people can now improve their quality of life with medication. Celiac disease is treatable with a change in diet.

So I think the physical illness side should be looked at as, can you have the quality of life that you want? Can your condition be improved with medicines, therapy, holistic healing, or a combination of things? What kind of death will you be looking forward to; a silent, painless death or a death proceeded by excruciating pain and anguish?

On the other hand, we have mental illnesses. As someone who suffers with depression, it can be a struggle day to day. As I have talked about, I seriously thought about suicide. The only reason I pulled away from that end was due to events in my life. What about others who aren't so lucky?

As someone who has been there before, I lean more towards trying to resolve issues with help. But also someone who has been desperately poor, I understand that the kind of help people need isn't cheap or easy to come by; even medication can be expensive. Perhaps we need to change, as a society, the way we view and treat mental illness and physical disabilities. Actually, there is no "perhaps" about it. There should be no reason why seeking help should be expensive or hard to find and keep. This too should be the government's job since we the People aren't doing it.

Anyway, back to the point.

It's not just depression that impacts people's lives, and help can vary for people. I understand that sometimes, for some people, things just won't get better. Sometimes Life just gave you a shitty hand and it's time to quit until the next go around. And if anyone chose to end their life, I would be sad and upset, but ultimately it's that person's choice.

Still, I ask that if you or someone you know is considering suicide, try reaching out to someone first. When you are at the bottom of the pit, take a step to the side and look up. Many times, when you finally reach out, there will be someone there. For myself, I was surprised to finally find that I wasn't actually alone and that there were people who did really care about me. Sometimes it was a teacher, other times it was kind-hearted students who embraced me. Sometimes it was my dog who looked up to me and was there for me when I cried. Now, it's my brother who depends on me for everything.

I can't say that I regret not taking my life; I am glad I didn't. However, I cannot also say that I can condemn those who do, did, or will because ultimately it is a choice that someone should make themselves.

Again though, there are more nuances in life than just black and white. There are some mental illnesses that cannot be treated currently, like being a rapist or child molester or a serial killer. Some things like narcissism aren't effectively treatable, and even depression and bipolarism are difficult to treat and manage.

So I guess I end my ramblings with this: I think suicide is someone's choice to make, but that every other option should be pursued before committing. Suicide is an extreme and final last resort. Regardless though, you can email me and talk if no one else seems to listen. And if you want to talk about it anonymously (or even help people through their problems) try this site called BlahTherapy.

May you find everything you want.

Paganism and Suicide

 So, you know I have been reading my sociology stuff lately for class, and I came across the research that was done on suicides and who was more likely to take their life than others. A French sociology named Emile Durkheim examined official records of suicides and found that

 "[M]en, Protestants, wealthy people, and the unmarried each had much higher suicide rates than women, Catholics and Jews, the poor, and married people. Durkheim explained these differences in terms of social integration: Categories of people with strong social ties had low suicide rates, and more individualistic people had high suicide rates."

It was said that those who had more freedom were the ones who committed suicide the most. In the late 1800s, early 1900s, men has a greater range of freedom than the house bound women did. However, freedom weakens social ties and thus the feelings of dependance, the "but they need me" feeling. Of course, this also ties well with unmarried, since the man doesn't feel tied to anything.

Of course, women were allowed out to have jobs, but only specific jobs, like sewing. (source)

A century later, Durkheim’s analysis still holds true. In 2009, there were 13.5 recorded suicides for every 100,000  white people,0 which is more than twice the rate for African Americans (5.1). For both races, suicide was more common among men than among women. White men (19.2) are almost four times as likely as white women (5) to take their own lives. Among African Americans, the rate for men (9.1) was more than five times that for women (1.6). (source) Soooo.......

"Applying Durkheim’s logic, the higher suicide rate among white people and men reflects their greater wealth and freedom, just as the lower rate among women and people of color reflects their limited social choices."

Factors that would decrease the likelihood of suicide was connection to a community (such as the close knit community of Catholics and Jews), strong family ties and dependency (like being married), and having a strong support system. Women tend to "process their experiences with friends. They discuss their feelings, seek feedback and take advice," Humans are social creatures and must have social interaction to stay sane, or alive in this case.

How does this apply to Paganism? A big part of Paganism, specifically Wicca, is about the freedom of being able to do what feels right. Solitaries dominate our community, and we have been compared to cats more than once. The Pagans I know tend to be very well off financially (or are in college to become financially well off) and typically aren't married. And I would bet dollars to donuts that the majority of Pagans are white (at least in the US). Individuality, white, "rich", unmarried. The up side is that most of the Pagans I have met tend to be women. .......

But, do Pagans commit suicide? The only suicide that I recall would be Tempest Smith, 11 years ago. Pagans don't have a stance on suicide because there is no central guideline. Pattie says it well:

"Because there is no Central Pagan Doctrine, or Big Book o’ Pagan Rules, it’s hard to say specifically what the “Pagan perspective” on suicide – or much of anything else – is. There’s not any sort of doctrinal perspective that is universal to all Pagans."

There is the Wiccan Harm None rule, which Pattie explains. But not everyone follows the Rede, nor are Wiccan. So why then do we not hear about suicides? Is it simply because A) we don't hear about the people who aren't relatively big in our community, B) there is a low suicide rate within our community, C) the families who do suffer from the tragedy do not want their child known as a pagan, D) something I can't think of, or E) all of the above?

Let's say that B is true. I believe that one of the best qualities of our community is the ability to strongly identify with others and to help them out as best we can. Even online, Pagans are still connected by forums, support groups, social media sites, email, etc. I remember when I was just starting out; the Pagan forums were my life line, my regular connection with like-minded individuals to share beliefs, opinions, troubles and basically my life. Sappy, yes. But without that support, I probably would have slipped back into depression. One of the topics that would always fire up the forum boards was suicide, but the turnout wasn't so much about the topic of suicide itself as it was about supporting the potentially suicidal poster.

It's like a cyber group hug!!! (Sorry, I can't help it.) ;P

Another probable reason why might lie in our beliefs of the family. Belief in a Divine family, a spiritual family, and our personal families is a good chunk of what is taught. The Goddess - our Mother, the God - our Father, and our general "sisters and brothers." The coven family, the High Priestess and High Priest (our "parents"), the higher initiated as our "older siblings" and the newcomers as our "younger siblings." Our relationship with the two spiritual and Divine families are just as complex as our blood families, and harbor just as much emotions (if not more). The kind of "responsibilities" are deep and truly personal. I would do anything for my coven mates, and they would (and have!) as well.

And even being a community of solitaries, we are still a community of one. We help our own, from housing to community projects to contributing to our spiritual relatives. Please, I beg everyone who reads this -- keep it up. Keep reaching out to people, keep offering them your help no matter what their creed or color or gender, keep being the kind of person you want to be every single day. Keep making a difference.




If you are thinking about suicide, please reach out to someone. Actually tell someone "I am considering suicide." Don't assume that people will understand vague allusions. People can be dense (Hi, I'm dense) and slow on the uptake, but there are people here to help you. If you want to talk to a suicide councilor, call the Nation Suicide Prevention hotline toll free at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). If you don't want to do that, you can always talk to me. You aren't alone. There is always someone there for you, no matter what. And there will always be someone who is afflicted by your death, so don't think you won't be missed. At the very least, I will miss you. <3

TL;DR - Food Issues

Yesterday I wrote a post and have gotten very many hits on it, but as I try to comment, they are wiped out. So, while I get my blog fixed or something, I want to leave you with a background on how food, period. Yeah, I know the grammar doesn't work, but read it all and you will understand.

When I was about 5 years old, I was a cute kid. I had all the confidence in the world, was strong willed and very happy. Then, I went into kindergarten. My mother cried as I got onto the bus, but when I got home, I was the one crying. I was teased by my classmates for being fat. Fat? Yeah.

Me at five years old, being cute.

My mother, like any parent, brushed it off and probably said some nice words, and I went back to school again in a better mood and wanting to try to win over the other kid's hearts. It didn't happen, and the ridicule got worse. Every day, things got worse and worse. Yeah sure, it was just words, at first. Then it turned into physical assault, with stone throwing and sticks, literally! Punching, scratching, biting, pinching, kicking. My parents became very concerned and contacted the school, but it was brushed off as kids being kids.

So the years press on and I continue to be ostracized and ridiculed, with various bouts of physical abuse interwoven into the mental torture. If you think "torture" is a bit too harsh of a word, I would like to see you withstand days, months, years of being told you are worthless, that you should kill yourself, that you are nothing and unloved and hated, despised even. "Go away, you are a failure. You disgust me." So, I hated myself, loathed and despised my peers for rejecting me, and looked towards adults as some measure of protection, being the teacher's pet type of kid. I was diagnosed with Severe Clinical Depression at 7 years old, I believe.

Needless to say, I had already turned to food as a comfort and would binge and binge when I got home from school. I would snatch the peanut butter from the cupboard and eat it in my room, consuming it all before my parents got home so I could hide the jar. I hid candy and sweets in my room so I could eat them while I cried so I would feel better. Yes, I became overweight.

Me, age 8 I think. I was stuck in that shoe bin.

My third grade year I had the most awful teacher. Like the kids, she despised me. She would throw my things across the room, detain me after class despite possibly missing the bus, and would find fault in every action I did. Around the same time, or maybe just before, I was diagnosed with severe migraine episodes and was prescribed a pain killer. One of the saving qualities, however, were the animals the teacher had in the room.

One day I got in trouble for some ridiculous thing and she punished me by sitting me under florescent lights and made me hand copy the states and capitals while I watched the other kids play. All through that day I had complained of my head hurting. She blew me off all damn day. Between the odors of the animals, the screaming of the children, the lights, and stress, I could not see the paper because of the pain. She only let me go to the nurse when I started to sob uncontrollably. Later, when my mom came to pick me up, she could see something was wrong with me, but me being a stubborn kid, I didn't tell her anything. The very next day I woke up with a pounding migraine and two black eyes. The blood vessels around my eyes had burst from the pressure. My parents were livid to say the least.

Back at home, things went downhill fast. My parents couldn't control my eating habits and were stressed about my binging. They would buy food for the month and a week later most of it would be gone. My parents seriously thought about putting padlocks on the cupboards and the fridge. When I couldn't get food at home, I went to the neighbors and begged them for food. My parents went around the neighborhood telling people not to feed me. I took my lunch allowance and bought junk food, so my parents couldn't give me money anymore and wrote checks or deposited money into my school account. I would wrack up debt in the cafeteria buying junk, so much so that my parents forcibly told the lunch ladies not to put stuff on credit for me. After that, I would just steal money from my parents wallets and buy food that way. If my parents didn't know that, they do now.

I spiraled out of control in many areas of my life, eventually getting straight up 10s in my classes, where I had previously made 90s and above. I was super depressed with no help, an outcast with no friends, and alone most of the time. I was going through stages of starvation and binging, I guess called bulimia, by this point in an attempt to be thin. I would dream everyday that I was thin and popular and loved, I would dream so hard it hurt to wake up. At 14 years old, I woke up one day and decided to end my life, because I couldn't bear getting up anymore. I hated myself so much I could not even look in the mirror anymore, nor would I look down at my own body and had not done so in many years.

I went to school that day, thinking it would be my last day, and suddenly I was hit by a cosmic freight train. Most of you don't know this, but this was also the point in my life that I became a pagan. I can give details about this part later; all that needs to be said now is that I did not end my life that night, thank Goddess.

I did a major turn around in my life. I fought off my depression and since I had moved to a different state, I looked around and noticed that the people around me were pretty nice and was only avoiding me because I was distant and aggressive towards them (who could blame me tho?). I woke up from a fog, a deadness, a cold and distant place. I remember one instance of my music teacher telling me I should smile and me replying that I didn't know how. Another instance was my first hug by a new friend; I was so stunned I didn't know what to do.

I clawed and dug and tried to fix what was broken. Only recently have I changed my relationship with food. It's been 6 years now since I almost committed suicide. Now I eat in a way that not only pleases me mentally and taste wise, but also satisfies my bodies nutritional needs. I eat regularly, 5 to 6 small meals a day, and I exercise. I had ballooned up to 400lbs and am now trying to find my natural body weight. Now, I love myself and take care of myself. I am so much healthier now than I have ever been in my life. I am happy and outgoing and loved and accepted by my peers (mostly because I only surround myself with people who are awesome). I still have so much work to do, but you know, now I am happy just to walk around lazily until I get there.

For the first time in my life, I am ok with myself.

Me, May 2012.