A meditation on suicidal ideation and keeping on

CW - suicidal ideation, depression

I have struggled with suicidal ideation for far longer than I have ever felt the sweet expansiveness of the joy of being alive. 

I first remember wanting to die at six years old. Laying on the floor of my bedroom after a tantrum in which I intentionally went against everything I knew to be right and good - I had thrown all of my things around the room, just to see what it felt like. It felt like nothing, except now my room was a mess. I had sobbed all of my sobs. I lay scattered amidst my little girl’s belongings and I felt emptiness. I felt an emptiness so wretched that I cursed G-d (still having the heart of an ardent believer at age six). I don’t remember the specific story behind my sorrow. I’m not sure there really was a very specific incident that incited it. Just the breaking of an ever-building rage and sorrow that burst forth from my little body with unimaginable and uncontained grief. Make it stop. Take it away. Make me stop. I hate you. 

Make it stop

Take it away.

Make me stop.

I hate you.

I did not know I could act to take my own life at six. I’m not sure if I was particularly naive or simple, but it didn’t occur to me. I persisted with this feeling as I grew older. Sometimes I fantasized about car accidents or being hit by a car while I was walking. I walked a lot as a young person without a car, especially in my teen years. But my cowardice never let me dance into the street of oncoming traffic. 

At 13, my parents divorced. It was ugly. And I bore the brunt of brutal threats of abandonment and manipulation in the vying for child support. I had no means, no language, to communicate my needs and my rage and my grief at being forced to suffer being alive. I tried to share my favorite song with my father once, who I now realize is very likely Autistic and at the very least has the emotional intelligence of a fourth grade boy. Needless to say, though he was my safer parent, he still did not understand. I would later find the words to tell him that I wanted to hurt myself, but he was then a scared man who largely managed his anxiety through intimidation and control. And he did not handle my disclosure well. I went unhelped. Unnoticed, really. 

My cowardice kept me alive. Aching and grieving and miserable but unable to take any actions to end my suffering. I have no idea how I persevered, frankly. It must have been what meager friendships and engagements I had at the time. And books. The escape into fantasy, where I could be in someone else’s life. In a life with magic and romance and wonder. Because certainly those things did not exist in my reality. 

A reprieve from suicidal ideation came

This was the first time I felt it - the joy of being alive. Simple. Clear. Peaceful. Joy.

A reprieve from suicidal ideation came when I attended college. It was not permanent, the darkness tethered to me as though braided into my soul. But this was the first time I felt it - the joy of being alive. Simple. Clear. Peaceful. Joy. I had never felt it before, not that I could remember.

I have lately been going through a challenging period in my life, I find myself dancing with depression once more and the nostalgia for this long past chunk of joy and magic has been bittersweet. Have I become one of those annoying people who say “college was the best years of my life” - dear G-d, save me from ever being one of those people. I’m reminded of this as I grapple with myself to find my meaning for being alive again and simultaneously have at least one client (hello my dear) who is grappling with the same darkness. How can I urge her to live when I cannot find my own bearings? How can I offer her a hand to hold in the darkness, if I’m plummeting to my doom as well?

It struck me this morning that I’d been looking in the wrong place. 

Here is what I have come to believe about the true thievery of depression -

- it robs us of our birthright. I believe, to my core, that our natural state of being is peace and joy. When we take away the oppression, the trauma, the strife, the pain, the sickness… what we have left is just peace and pleasure and contentment.

I have learned this repeatedly in the moments when my life has been navigating over the rivers of manageable waters, when the anxiety is at bay, when there is room to just breathe clean air and perceive the beauty of the world. I’ve learned this when I go to synagogue (a far more complicated relationship now, having passed through atheism and emerged somewhere hard to describe) and read the teachings of those far wiser than I about the depth of my feelings as a human creature. About the ages of wisdom of those who have scrawled and thought and been mesmerized by our own existence (philosophers and scientists alike).

We do not need a reason to be happy to be alive. 

We do not need a reason to be happy to be alive.

We do not need a reason to be happy to be alive. 

But our simple and easy joy at being a wondrous living being is so easily robbed. And so hard to find once obscured. I know I’ve danced in these waters, even though I’ve spent far more time desiring release, I know they’re there. I wish I could bottle that simplicity, that ineffable, indescribable state. I wish I could splash that water on my face on mornings that I wish I weren’t waking. And I wish I could share a drink with those whose hearts have yet to taste it. 

I’m finding my way back to the somatic memory, the felt sense I have experienced. Having felt it, I can travel there, with practice, with care. I’m praying this morning that our work is successful, that you’re able to experience what you’ve missed - that to be alive is a truly wonderful thing. 

To be alive is a truly wonderful thing

And as for a reason to endure in the darkness? I discover mine again and again. I fear it will come across as trite, but it is my honest to goodness truth. There is a prayer sung in the services I attend on Friday nights - Olam Hessed Yibaneh, which translates to “The world is built on kindness/love.” Its words are really simple…

I will build this world from love

And you must build this world from love

And if we build this world from love

Then G-d will build this world from love

Here is the truth.

The world is a dark, scary, cruel and horrible place. It is filled with vile and stupid people who will hurt you as soon as look at you. It is dangerous. It is terrible.  

AND

The world is a beautiful, joyous, and peaceful place. It is filled with warm and honorable people who will help and share with you for no reason except that you are there and that they can. It is generous. It is playful.

The world is what we make it. What we build it from. I cannot control other people, but I am just as much a part of this world as they are. If they can build the world from darkness (and stupidity), I will build the world from love. I may not be able to get my needs met, I may struggle, I may grieve - and I do and I will. I will continue to face the darkness in the world and in my soul and the grief that was laid on my heart. But I can walk in the world with love and kindness and I can give of myself freely where and when I can. I can show up and love.

And I don’t mean always being nice to people, I’m often not nice. I’m not advocating toxic positivity, people-pleasing, or boundaryless generosity. But I do stand on my values and I do act from love and for what I want to bring more of into the world. For everyone I will ever meet and for everyone who will be touched by my generosity. 

And dear heart, I believe you bring love, too. I know generosity is complicated for you - habitually giving so much more than you can afford and not even feeling like you have the choice. I believe you are a kind, sensitive, and thoughtful soul and the world needs your love - even if you don’t know what that looks like yet. Even if it’s a struggle for you to find what you can give without losing yourself. This is a delicate and extremely personal dance that you’re already dancing. You’ll get more sure about the steps even as the conditions change.

For everyone you will ever meet who may be touched by your kindness, your humor, your genuine presence. That is love. And the world would be a sadder and darker place without yours. 

With Love,

Leanna Greenberg