someone close to me admitted his suicide plan last wednesday night. a suicide plan, detailing the where and how, is a helluvalot more dire than “suicidal thoughts.” i know, because i’ve kept a plan in my back pocket for emergency use since i was 12. his everyday had become an emergency, and though i see and speak to him each day, i hadn’t known he had planned a newly revised route to his emergency exit.
last monday i blogged about the “dishonesty” of withholding. he had been withholding his suicidal thoughts and feelings for nearly a year. he finally told me last wednesday while we were having a fight about something thoughtlessly meaningless. i don’t fight often. when i fight, i have a productive intent. “yelling” constitutes a “fight,” but the yelling doesn’t last long. the yelling begins and ends in order to express whatever strong emotion has boiled over. usually the yelling moves fear or pain to the outside, where i can see, hear, and deal with it. he didn’t yell with me last wednesday. instead, he went quiet and hopeless and defeated…which is much scarier for me than yelling.
he stayed with me all day thursday, calling in sick to work. mostly, we spent the day in bed. mostly, he slept. i laid next to him and listened to him breathe. i laid next to him and felt grateful for him, grateful that he trusted me, grateful that he was breathing. i know i can’t save him. he has to decide to live. but i can let him know every single day that i’m grateful for him.
by thursday afternoon, he was making jokes about getting t-shirts printed for “suicide watch 2010.” he and i have always mocked everything and most especially, ourselves. he laughed. he laughed at himself, which put wanting to die at an indistinct distance.
i started writing about other things when i sat to blog today, but i deleted them, because last monday i wrote about the dishonesty of withholding and asserted that i would practice a heartier “yes” to the adventures of this life. last week’s adventure was an affirmation of what makes this life worth living: love, laughter, people who show up to love and laugh with us, and the everyday opportunity to hold and heal each other with that love and laughter.