Sure, you can read about it every day, you see the term everywhere – but “suicide” does not exist.
It is one thing and one thing only when a person – through anger, or greed, or frustration, or any other reason kills a human- and that thing is MURDER.
One must be on quite an ego trip to believe that one’s presence in the world is a separate thing – that it somehow isn’t part of the larger entity – and that ending its existence doesn’t have an effect on that larger organism.
Murder creates a very large wave of negative energy, adversely affecting everyone. You are not your own, and certainly not qualified to make such a judgment regarding “your” life. Where did we come up with two separate categories of murder; “homicide,” and “suicide?” I guess the answer is obvious – in one of the cases we can find someone to punish in our legal system. We find the killer in a homicide, and we ensure that the killer suffers. So be it. But don’t be fool enough to think for one second that one who commits murder to one’s own self escapes suffering – No way, no how. Committing murder has consequences.
So, if you murder yourself, then you can expect the consequences to come upon you wherever you end up next. Karma doesn’t care where you are; actions have consequences, and you do not escape them just because you aren’t strolling along on the big, blue earth anymore. Karma is everywhere and, being eternal, you will always have an “address.” Trust me, if you have a package waiting to be delivered to you, good or bad, Karma will calmly find you and lay it at your feet.
No, you cannot commit suicide – that’s just a legal word. There is only murder; and you are either a murderer, or you aren’t. No matter how far down you may feel that you are in life, murdering yourself will make these times look like a picnic.
Strange subject to write about. I have to assume that someone needed to hear it.
I am a Hammer…a bludgeon…an energy of crushing force.
No, all of that sort of talk doesn’t fit well with the intent of this blog, and my life – a life that is directed toward being the essence of compassion and love – to finally be free of war in my mind and body. I have made great strides, and continue to do so. But, severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder can, in an instant, break every dish in my mental cabinet.
This dragon grew mighty and strong, undiscovered and undiagnosed, for 20 years. His abode is all but impregnable, and nearly impossible to find, nestled deep in the shadowy corners of my brain.
He lives by a code that is a secret to me. A smell, a word, an unexpected disruption to routine…all of this, and many other insidious and hidden triggers, call him forth from his dark fortress with no warning, and his shadow blackens the entire landscape of my thoughts. Perhaps only for seconds, or maybe for days, whatever the time frame, when he takes wing he usurps all control.
The Mystics of Buddhist and Hindu thought have a solution for the problem; you simply don’t attach to the thoughts, or the images, or whatever the manifestation may be. This works…I consider it to be the truth. One little glitch, though…there is no time with severe PTSD.
If you are dissociative from all of life – completely – at all times, I suspect that you would be untroubled by this dragon’s arrival; totally indifferent. This would also mean that your total separation from any emotion would cause you to be of little value to the growth of society; compassion would be a stranger to you – indifference would be the definition of your life. I am not totally dissociative, so, I am left with the reality of possessing complete control of my mind and, at other times, being completely “controlled” by a broken aspect of my mind that arises without warning with the force of a tsunami.
This dragon, PTSD, is the embodiment of rage, anger, frustration, impatience, and an insatiable desire to destroy that which has disturbed its repose – its protected solitude. He does not know the meaning of “finesse,” he is a hammer. He is a wrecking ball. He is the two-handed broadsword that cleaves with the force of an inhuman giant. His crushing force grabs your ankle as he plunges, and the weight of his power yanks you down from your post of “observer of thoughts.” He must be dealt with – you will not simply watch him with bemused detachment. To stand before me at such a time, to physically challenge me, is to invite heinous injury…and I will not know what the hammer has done until the moment has passed.
Thankfully, years removed from the harsh realities of combat, I am not confronted in such a way anymore. The dragon, however, still leaves his lair when the right trigger is touched. And what happens to the force of this inconceivably destructive energy? I internalize it, so that no one is harmed. No one but me , that is. Over time, this wrecks the strongest of bodies and minds.
Why did I write all of this? I’m not sure…maybe just to get it off of my chest. There is a bigger reason, though, and that is two wars going on right now.
Over half of the men and women that return from combat will have to live with this dragon. The majority will deny having a problem – to avoid the “stigma.” Those that do admit to the challenges will find that most of the treatments that the Veteran’s Administration uses are pretty ineffective – they prefer to push pills – it’s easier and faster; but you end up with a zombie.
Pills for the pain, pills for the anxiety/hyper-vigilance, pills for sleep, pills for depression; all that’s left after all of that is a festering pile of mush between your ears.
Here’s why I wrote this. You may very likely encounter someone coming home that “just isn’t the same,” the short fuse, the anger, the irritability. Have them call me. I KNOW this dragon. I don’t have a cure, but I know his ways. I am the Lord of the Dragons, and even this behemoth knows his days are numbered. He shall not prevail. Perhaps I can offer a way to cope to those that are suffering. I am here, and I will not be beaten.
It came back to me, just in the last 5 minutes. A memory. This isn’t “remembering,” but a memory – there is a difference, at least in my world.
To me, remembering is a past-tense thing. Remembering is when you stroll through the spongy halls of the lump of synapses between your ears, find the right file cabinet, and pull out the index card of the moment in question. It’s dead, lifeless…just some information that was inscribed and put away. Not so with a memory.
No, in my world, memories are alive…electrical currents that still have their full charge, lurking in corners that they don’t belong and stirring up trouble. In the world of post-traumatic stress disorder, that’s the difference between remembering and a memory. So what is this memory? Are you excited to know? Even a little intrigued? I will reveal it to you, knowing full well that it will likely mean little to you – because you have no awareness of the context. Nevertheless, the subject it addresses is important to each of us. The memory was about sleep.
I was in a combat environment, working for the U.S. Navy, (in a place that shall remain nameless), and had been in this environment for several days. The stress was extreme, and I had not slept…for days; not even a 5-minute catnap. I can recall, tonight, a comment that I made some 25 years ago to one of my buddies with me at the time. I said, and I meant it in the greatest seriousness, “I would let someone cut off my left arm right now if they would let me sleep.” As God is my witness, I would have made that deal at that moment. In the event, I didn’t get that sleep until more time had elapsed, and I am still in possession of my left arm. Today, restful sleep is as foreign to me as speaking Swahili – fatigue and pain has been my constant companion since then.
Most people will, thankfully, never know that combination of stress, the possibility of immanent death, and extreme sleep deprivation. But you don’t have to be in that spot to suffer the very real, adverse effects from not getting enough sleep.
If your body doesn’t get enough rest – enough full, recuperative sleep – it will begin to decay at an alarming rate. Decision-making is compromised, attitude suffers, and the muscles of your body don’t get their window of time to re-build. When this happens, over time, you get pain – all over body pain that doesn’t go away. And that is just the tip of the iceberg. The longer the lack of recuperative sleep goes on, the more damage the physical body and mind will incur. This problem is invariably married to PTSD, but you can suffer from sleep deprivation whether that condition exists or not.
Bottom line, get your sleep. Make it a priority. Proper and restful sleep will do wonders for your outlook on life.
