Courage or weakness
August 23rd, 2008 by park
Courage means something different to everyone. To some, it’s standing up to that bully in school. For others, it’s knowing their own bodies are killing them slowly with an unstoppable disease and living a somewhat normal life. Somewhere in between lie all kinds of gray area. But what it really comes down to is strength. That inside everyone beats the heart of a lion, and that in the end we will find a way to tap into that to keep pressing on when things seem their worst.
You go through life wondering what it is that will test your mettle. A carjacking? A terrorist bombing? An accidental shooting by your own sibling? Try to imagine what you think would push you to the limits of your inner strength. What could make you need that cold, hard piece of yourself you keep locked away for emergencies. Somewhere, that’s the small reptilian side of humanity that has kept us going since our beginnings. We fight within ourselves over who we feel we are with what is expected from the outside. And that war can tear a person down faster than any drill sergeant in the world ever could. Because no matter what another person tells you, that little voice inside is really you.
You are a failure. You didn’t hold up. You didn’t make it in time. That is you. It’s not some guy standing on a pedestal looking down and judging you. It’s your own mind telling you exactly what you already know about yourself. Because it knows things no drill instructor could ever know about you. It’s knows your worst fears, your greatest weaknesses, your triumphs and your failures.
And I want to kill that guy. Because he never shuts up. No matter what I do right, he’s there. No matter what I do wrong, he’s there. Always reminding me. Always taunting me to do more. This is what depression is. This is what neurosis feels like. There is someone else in control, and no amount of strength, no amount of the right thing will shut it up, because it’s you. And it’s right. You did screw up. You did drop the ball. You are a failure.
There is no amount of love that can fix it. No amount of medication that can cover it up. There is not enough support, money, or time to take care of it. And it just keeps going. That voice. Knowing it is right. Knowing it’s just you that is loathing you.
Some will tell you “just buck up” or “hang in there”. Sometimes there is no bucking up. Sometimes you run out of things to hold onto. And you slip. And it’s a long way down.
It is weakness to take your own life. It is brave to jump in front of a bullet. What an odd juxtaposition. Suicide is the single greatest self centered activity one can partake in. Thankfully, it is usually the last as well.
People will say things set off a depressive episode. But I say that’s not the case. Sometimes your life will be churning along as it’s usual pace, and that little voice is just not as loud. And the sun shines, and the colors are bright and vibrant. Then something comes along and reminds that little voice that you are, in fact, the world’s worst anything. That you have screwed up, it’s all your fault, and look what a failure you are. And within minutes, your body has betrayed you. Your eyes get heavy and watery, your legs buckle, and you find yourself wondering just how thick the skin on the arms is. How deep is 1mm?
The clouds roll in and the colors mute a little. Like a television where the color rods are going out, your life begins to eddy back and forth from color to black and white. Any contribution you have ever made, anywhere and effort to do anything is now gone. And you stand there, answering to yourself in the most private of all settings, your own mind. A desolate wasteland of loneliness. And the only thought to cheer you up is “if I had multiple personalities, this might not be so bad”, and that doesn’t help you much.
Many people don’t understand how you can come to thoughts on hurting yourself. It’s simple really. You start with “what have I done?” which leads you down a path of ritualized self-torture and self-doubt. Note, this is all about you. Once you have properly dissected your life for any and all fruitless endeavors, you begin to come to the realization that life is just pointless. We run and run, and in the end where are we running to? Better yet, where are we running from?
At this point your brain hurts and you don’t want to even think. Which is fine, because coherent thought it pretty damned hard anyway. By now your brain is alive with the ravings of your own mind. Like there is a version of yourself in a tattered coat, messed up hair and broken glasses pulling out files of your life from a filing cabinet. He forces you to look a the contents of the folder, laughs maniacally mocking anything that could possibly have gone wrong in that part of your life. And he just spawns another version of himself doing the same thing, over and over again. Until your mind is filled not with creativity, or progressive thoughts, but with the one unifying thought between all of those little twisted versions of you…you fail.
That isn’t enough is it? That’s not enough to want to hurt yourself. It’s in your mind, and it’s loud. It’s the loudest thing you could ever imagine. That laughing, maniacal version of yourself just keeps going. God, I hear people say, God will set you free.
No, God won’t. God is in your heart. God is a creator and architect of the universe. God is not in control of my mind. And anyone who says otherwise is probably selling something or asking for donations.
No amount of knowing the right thing to do ever makes us do the right thing.
For those who care, I am not going to hurt myself. Not yet. There have been two things I have found to help out immediately. One, is to sleep. Sleep good and hard and hope that by tomorrow the clouds have passed over. The others are chocolate, a sun tan, and weed. And since weed is illegal, and I hate cancer, looks like being fat is my only option.
It’s either this, or go on anti-depressants, which pretty much make you not be miserable enough to kill yourself, and leave you with enough personality to beat out a carrot for a new standup act.