Native Writes

I can handle money being spent on solving problems but I can’t handle throwing money at solutions that can only emerge within an individual.
My mail recently contained a letter asking me to donate money to the battle against suicide. People are taking their own lives daily and at much younger ages. It’s a permanent solution to what can be a temporary problem.
That’s great, except for the fact that the person suffering must make the call or go to a crisis center.
I could call a hotline and say someone is acting unusually depressed and has been giving away things, but what if the person doesn’t feel there’s a problem?
As a suicide survivor, I can tell every one of the do-gooders that it sometimes sneaks up on us. The decision may be hidden deeply within an individual and the façade may be deceptive.
How did I survive suicide? I was in the living room when my husband made the choice to end his life in the bedroom.
I was angry. Furious. Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he leave a note? Why didn’t he say “goodbye?”
He probably said it in his own way. He had been more loving, vocalizing his feelings several times each day, but that isn’t a symptom, or is it?
At our last meal together, he said he’d like a favorite dish. I said I’d fix it and we would enjoy it. His response was, “maybe.”
The doctor had given him just a couple of months to live. The organs in his body were failing one by one. The problem could not be solved.
It was likely due to Agent Orange, but no one was saying so. It was before the U.S. military even remotely acknowledged the serious problems it caused on people who were sprayed with it.
Even the medics at the VA didn’t think it was an issue back then.
Today, they do. It’s not going to help my husband, but other veterans can benefit.
His pain was intense and he had to drink a terrible liquid before eating in order to digest his food — whatever food wasn’t on the forbidden list.
The last night of his life, he cried.
I heard a loud thud, went into the bedroom and saw that he had placed his revolver in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
Since then, young people who went to school with my sons have made the choice and I ask myself again and again what their pain might have been.
In today’s high-tech world, bullies can be relentless, destroying a youngster’s self-esteem to the point that they feel completely worthless.
Did the money being thrown into programs help any of them?
Sometimes, it’s with the thought of punishing the bully, who may go on with his or her life and couldn’t care less.
Adults have also given themselves death sentences, only to be found by someone checking in on their welfare.
The survivors are angry, just like I had been.
My message to those sitting in judgment on themselves and thinking of the death sentence: People are out there who will help. Contact them. Your tax dollar has already picked up the tab.