Suicide Prevention

Rage Against the Dying of the Light - Inspired by the Poem by Dylan Thomas
Matthew A. Nash

There is very little that can be said about the way someone chooses to end their own life.
Infact, it's very simple.
A blade no longer than an inch.
A length of rope, sturdy and well tied.
A place high enough for the impact to be emphatic, the end instantaneous.

There is always follow up attention, though. There is always an investigation, because God forbid a lack of detail on the part of the authorities. No matter who they were; a nobody from the streets, a well off white collar, a loved child, there is always attention. However, There is often very little to dispute. It's clear. Seen. Open and shut. It was a suicide, plain and simple.

There is much that can be said about the moments leading up to their dissolution.
In those moments of fleeting thought and misguided cognition, there are questions that are asked, but not answered by anything more than a simple resolve; quick and painless.
There are ideas that show how their imbalanced brain works, and what lead them to make the drastic and mass-altering decision.
There are thoughts that provoke self hatred in their mind; self loathing spawned into their brain through velicious moral crime that extents to every corner of their consciousness; every inch of their broken body.
There are memories that tell us whose fault it is, because if there's one thing we do well at as humans, it’s assigning blame. Most of the time, made known by dialog or secret possession, the blame is self assigned to the ones who surrounded the hurting soul in the days and weeks before their death. That blame is self accredited, and hard to shake.
There is information that helps us understand what we could have done differently.
That is the question that has haunted the family and friends of suicide victims for years. It can be found in clinical manuscripts, phycologists reports, poetic tragedies, theological reflections, therapist training courses, and the hearts of those who truly cared. What could I have done differently?
The way different people with differing personalities and backgrounds respond to this question is truly intriguing. Some respond with self denial. Some, with a healthy sense of humility. Some with self hatred. Some with a reassignment of blame. Some with foolhardy jokes, and some who never fail to address the topic with a furrowed brow.
Some who understand the events and causes, and some who simply do not care.
If only.
If only I showed my care more.
If only I had called more.
If only I had checked in more often.
If only I had been there.
If only I could have given one last hug.
If only they could have known how loved they were.
The effect suicide has on a family tree or community isnt just heartbreaking, its overwhelming. It creates questions worn in the shape of slit wrists and false guilt. It makes them question every moment leading up to the tragedy. It results in frustration seen in pounding fists. Some thrown at others with aggression meant for themselves, and some making contact with their own skin with secret self resentment. It makes them question their care for life and for the souls still living. It makes them throw up out of guilt and shame for not ‘caring hard enough.’
It creates an uncontrollable bitterness so descrect in its growth one can only wonder if it is ever truly resolved. It makes them hate themselves.
There are some, however, who respond to these depressing regrets with the truth: the fact that, above all fasle and correctly placed guilt, looking to the past in nothing but regret will bring nothing but hopelessness to an accomplice of faulty persona. That hopelessness only grows in intensity if not correctly addressed. For some it will be used as a reminder to rage against the dying of hope, and for some it will swallow them whole
Suicide is not selfish, and this much I know to be true, however, there is a certain element of ignorance possessed by the victim in regards to the effect their death has on others.
No one will notice, and if they do no one will care, and if they do they’ll get over it, and if they don't, well, they are better off without me.
That is the notion possessed by many who have fallen. The sentiment that they are small; Unimportant; Insignificant; That their purpose in life is absent, their existence a simple error in the program. As if life is a preponderance and a choice. As if we aren't called to truly live it, and fight, and rage, and fail and do it all over again. As if meaning is only understood by those who were born into white fenced homes. As if the struggle is completely separate from the reason for the fight. For this reason we must not lecture suicidal loved ones about the glory of peace; a concept so often foreign, but rather the reason to conquer the moments directly ahead of them. Because that's all it truly is. Moments. Each one either adding or detracting the species of thought; buoyancy or dismissal. Each one building on top of one another. Each one, when taken one at a time, easier and easier to overcome with simple and truthful awareness.
The tragedy of suicide is that of udder hoplessness to those who have no true purpose. It is up to us, as the ones still full of life in varying degrees, to spread the purpose of true unity found only in the bondage of Jesus Chrsit to those who have not heard; to those who do not understand. It is by no means a simple task. Convincing someone to live is a challenge that has not been mastered by any one person besides our savior himself. He is the only way we can, in any way, create a sense of joy in the hearts and minds of those who believe they have fallen from determination.
So in your many shortcomings, in your hopelessness and pain, in your utter despair and ache, in your division and sickness and heartbreak, in your depression and life altimantium, rage against any darkness challenging your next day, your next moment, your next breath. Rage against the dying of the light. Fight for it. Fight. Love. feel. Care. hold. Believe. Trust, and above all, have faith that, unlike the moments past, the next ones will be a little bit more manageable.