I like living

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“I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.”
~ Agatha Christie

I write a lot about death and dying, suicide, grief and loss. And in between I write about the ways I try to meet Life, often fumbling around in confusion and doubt.

I’m frequently anxious and afraid, but I try to meet Life anyway.

My husband has had suicidal gestures.

I wrote about the last one here:

https://thesprightlywriter.wordpress.com/2012/12/23/a-tragic-sense-of-life/

I wrote about it as a story, but it really happened to me and my husband. I don’t know what I should have done, I only know what I did do. The very next day I turned to his church for help. And they did give us some help.

I spent 8 hours with a friend of mine yesterday who overdosed on Tyenol PM (acetaminophen with a sleeping aid in it) twice in the past 3 months. Two weeks ago was the last time. She’s in a really bad way, but I met with her and made an effort to relieve some of her pain, just by being present because she was having a hard time being alone right now.

I took her to my husband’s massage therapy office and he gave her craniosacral therapy (a type of bodywork) and massage therapy. I took her back to my home and we talked while tidying up (she likes organizing so I gave her some things to help me with). Then we went to pick up some groceries for her because she’s currently staying with a friend but she has no permanent home right now.  She is temporarily separated from her children, too.

I gave her a toolkit of books on mindfulness and Pema Chodron’s The Wisdom of No Escape, guided meditations to listen to, and a handwritten letter. She did say on facebook she did feel loved.  I hope she’ll be all right;  I know she still in a delicate mental space.  I know some of what she feels because I have grappled with suicidal ideation before, I just never had the ability to carry out my plans.

I do have fear and worry, sometimes. And I accept my sensitivity and my difficulties with meeting Life and I march on anyway though it’s very hard to dance with Life, sometimes.

My moments of joy and wonder are there, and I find them when I’m out and about in Nature.  I find great peace there, too.  I bring back these moments in pictures, so that I don’t forget the good things I experience.

I find peace in writing. I find peace in creating art.

I find peace in holding my children and, when I’m not fearing him and I’m not angry with him (because yes, my ego gets the upper hand sometimes), I find great peace when I hold my husband.

I found some peace in trying to meet my friend where she was at, with compassion and without judgment, and though I left her at her friends home, my heart was heavy.  I have to entrust her to the Universe, knowing that I did what I could, and she has to find the strength to meet Life on her own.

[Please, God, help my friend find hope and courage to live.  I know my efforts are small in comparison to her grief.]

I am humbled at all my confusion sometimes and grateful for the moments of clarity that I have experienced. I marvel at both the ecstatic joy and the immense sorrow I have felt.

It’s really all the same, to me, in the sense that as long as I can feel, I know Life is living through me.

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About Casey

“the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’ ~ Jack Kerouac, On The Road Again
This entry was posted in anxiety, Broke Down Spirit, Death, Life, suicidal pain, Suicide. Bookmark the permalink.

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