darkness and light

If there is a convenient time for a breakdown, I hope there is someone who can explain it to me.

The work is piled ... I am trying to figure out what I can and should get done for each class without killing myself and still keeping afloat in the class. I am trying to do the work for money that will allow me to pay for the things that I want and need... like the expensive birthday present I wanted, and the eye exam and new contact lenses that I need. Perhaps neither of those is a real need. But, you get the idea.

I am keeping my head above water.

I am trying to keep my mental state in check by giving myself time off ... and having fun. Maybe I took too much time off this weekend considering how packed next weekend will be.

Then I have to find out that a young cousin committed suicide.

I can't even look at the screen while I type this.

I know what it feels like to be in that dark space. I don't know what it feels like to let yourself go into it, to free fall into the abyss.

I imagine it feels like the end of pain. Or at least right before falling it feels like the only way to make the pain end.

It's different when the demons you are battling are cloaked in mental illness. It's harder to know and see that there are ways to bring light to the darkness.

I understand that. I know how horribly isolated someone could feel. I know how people could misunderstand self-medication. Mental illness doesn't come with a cast or a limp or anything visible. People don't always understand just how painful it is. Or how to help.

Sadly, the story we tell ourselves about our loved ones hitting the bottom often involves us denying their real pain in order to not feel the guilt. Or feeling guilty for something that we had no power to change.

The story should be that there was someone walking in darkness in incredible pain. No one reached him in time or in the way that could pull him from the brink. Now he is gone. And the hole in our heart will never completely heal.

Sometime in the future, maybe we can grasp that there are actions that can help, sometimes, not always. Maybe we will take the time to reach out to those people in pain. Maybe we will make the effort to let him/her know that he/she is not alone despite the fact that we cannot completely know or understand his/her pain. Maybe we will tell him/her that we love him/her instead of assuming that it a given.

Maybe we will hug more and judge less. And look for the warning signs. They don't always come with red flags.

Maybe we will make meaningful contact with people, not just the ones we love. And help them the best we can.

Maybe.

For now I am praying for J's soul and holding my family in my heart. And thanking the universe for putting someone in my path that could see my pain and help.

If you are standing in the darkness, reach for hope. You are not alone.