Every time I turn around there is a small, sharp pain in the lower part of my back. A recent development, it started around the time spring began. There are also other things. Things that come and go. Sometimes my eye twitches, or when I get up too quickly, I get dizzy. Odd little symptoms of a malaise too vague to investigate.
It is everywhere right now. Two famous people have taken their own lives and we shake our heads in wonder. They had so much to live for. They were so successful. They were famous! When will we get it through our collective, heads that it is on the inside where the problem lives? The shaded areas of the psyche, where secrets and wounds fester. I ponder the phrase: take your own life. Is it taken as in claimed, or simply eradicated? There is some beauty to the concept. The Israelites at Masada took their own lives rather than live as slaves. A body turns against itself in illness, pain, suffering; and the person decides when to die. She takes her own life.
And yet, for the thousands wrestling with depression, suicidal psychosis, another story: help exists. It must be sought, it has efficacy. Tortured souls: please ask, please tell, please allow others in.
I know this is not going to be a popular idea, but I also think that, in the final analysis, some people just are done living. Not everyone can be saved, wants to be saved. If you trace the provenance of any single life it never changes. My life is mine. Your life is yours
Every time I turn around there is a small, sharp pain in the lower part of my back.
