A Different Way of Seeing

Today, I was offered a fresh page in a relationship.  Imagine an ivory piece of stationery with nothing written on it.  Pure, crisp, clean.  

Imagine a favorite shirt coming out of the dryer, and it's warmth on your skin as you breathe deeply and smell spring left by a dryer sheet.

Imagine grace washing over you like a waterfall; water that is just right in temperature; as it cascades over your head, and you stand under the water for a long time, letting its hydration wash away pain, scrub away past mistakes.

Today was like that.

Relationships are tricky.  What I've learned? is that when friendships hurt--it is because I have something inside of me wrong or twisted, that fails to trust the good intentions of the one I'm relating to.

When I am insulted, it is because my friend has touched an insecurity.

When I am wounded, it's often because my friend has spoken truth, but it's truth I haven't told myself yet.

When I am incensed, I am often responding to a trigger, losing sight of the face and heart right in front of me, forgetting who they are to me, and all the acts of friendship which have preceded that moment.

When I feel controlled, I am deeply afraid and anxious---because what would life be like if I were not in control?

I'm not saying pain is not real.  I'm not saying others don't sin against us.  

But I find that when I clean up my heart?  There is less to hurt.  

If you knew the story? You'd know, I didn't deserve another chance.  

I'm glad my friend decided to try again anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

How to Be with a Suicidal Friend

I've been truly suicidal twice in my life.  But I've lived with clinical depression most of my adult life.

I was a happy, healthy, well-adjusted kid.  Just ask my parents.  Somewhere around age 30, I got hit with a whole wheelbarrow of emotions, and the tendency to cry when absolutely nothing was wrong.  And it's never left.  This post is not about that.  But you can read about it here.

The first time I was in a place where I could have truly committed the act? It came on suddenly. You NEVER hear that.  There's this idea out there that people who kill themselves have been in the throes of depression (secretly or openly).  I'm here to tell you, THAT is not my experience. I was NOT in a season of melancholy leading up to this night.  I was with friends, and had a moment of feeling acute rejection---which was not detectable to them.  It was a thought which grew into a big, black cloud in a matter of hours.  By the time 2 of them had dropped me off at my apartment, I was swirling in deep, black darkness.  It's tough to even describe, but as surely as I've felt the presence of God----that night the presence of evil wrapped itself around me like the worst kind of blanket, and slowly began to suck the life out of me. 

I was absolutely despondent and filled with a deep sense of hopelessness.  More than anything, I wanted to go and jump in front of the E train which was a few blocks away.  Only sheer exhaustion kept me from doing it.

I'm not going to pretend my experience is the same as everyone else's.  But, besides that night---my first 2 years back in the Northwest?  I prayed every day for God to kill me---or to let me go home, to heaven.  And I entertained suicidal ideation for years---as a way of escape, any time life got tough and for a long time after New York?  Life was always tough.  I've been around the block a few times on the suicide thing.

So here's my best advice on what to say, and NOT to say.

1.  Offer absolute acceptance and love and not one shred of judgment.

If your friend has told you they are suicidal, they are handing you a huge gift of trust.  In the two times I was suicidal---I could not tell a soul.  In fact for me, one of the things which has to be present for me to truly be capable of the act---is I have to feel cut off from my main support system.  Something has gotten in the way of those closest friendships or I wouldn't feel what I feel.

2.  Don't give advice.

The sheer level of grief a suicidal person is experiencing is life draining.  They are exhausted. Having to listen to someone go on and on about how they overcame something or having to hear a person talk down to them (no matter your intentions, this is how it will come across) while pretending to be grateful will drain them further, and make them feel more like a loser.

3.  Listen, listen, listen

Find out what has been happening in their life.  What brought them to this place?   What would give them hope?  What do they feel like they need right now to make life worth living? What are they angry about?  How can you best support them in this time?

4.  Know that talking about suicide is not going to make them more likely to commit it.

If they have opened the door and invited you in, telling you they want to die---they need to talk about it.  They want to talk about it.  Find out how long they have been thinking about it. Find out how they intend to carry it out.  (If they have a plan on how to end their life, stay with them until you feel they are out of danger, or until someone else can be there, especially if they have the means at their disposal to do it.)

5. Help them discover why they want to kill themselves.

In most of my suicide ideation? I am hurt by someone close to me and want revenge.  I want to take my anger out on myself so that whomever I'm mad at will be sad and I'll get even. Sometimes, though---it's just an escape---the same as a movie might be.  Having a "way out" can provide comfort when the pain is sharp.

Some people kill themselves over despair over their future, feeling trapped in an oppressive work environment or relationship.  Some people panic when big world events happen like the stock market crashes. There will always be an element of hopelessness in a suicidal person. The key is finding out what is making them feel that way.  

After you've helped someone figure out why they want to die, gently lead them to alternatives which might accomplish their true goal.  So, for me?  Reminding me of how the person I'm angry with has shown me love would help.  Or reminding me of upcoming events I want to be present for might help.

6. Be real

The two things which made me stop even thinking about suicide are these:

1-I read about all the attempts gone bad.  The internet is full of stories of individuals who tried to kill themselves and the aftermath they now live in.  Turns out?  It's not that easy to do.  And people mess it up ALL THE TIME.  And live maimed the rest of their life.  Scary stuff.

2-It's a hard question theologically.  And not one I suggest you broach with certainty.  But I've come to the personal conclusion that suicide is murder.  And unrepented murder.  I don't want to take a chance on eternity with that on my record.  Scary stuff.

Yes, I would talk to suicidal people about these two things.  It might be the only thing which saves their life.  They might get mad.  But mad energizes.  And energy is good.

7.  Do not take the stance that the person "just wants attention."  

First of all, SO WHAT IF THEY DO?  I have no problem giving the homeless money EVEN if I know they'll use it to drink---because Damn it, if anyone has a right to drink---it's someone with no home!!!! (Most people drink for much less!) If someone is in despair enough to outright ask for attention by saying the "S" word-----WHY WITHHOLD IT?  

Second, being suicidal invites shame.  It is a TOUGH thing to admit out loud even to those close.  People don't throw that word around lightly.  If a person admits to feeling this way, and you have any ounce of love for them (or humanity) take it seriously.  Smother them with love. Where did we ever get this idea that giving someone what they are asking for LOUDLY is less worthy than giving it to them just because???? (Yes, this attitude makes me absolutely crazy.)

Third, most suicidal people are not just wanting attention.  If they are talking about it, then they are thinking seriously about it, and are in deep pain.

8. Keep treating them normal.

After the crisis has passed, be normal.  Don't walk on eggshells around them.  Check in on them, but don't tiptoe.  Ask them for favors.  Make them feel needed.  Tell them your problems. Maybe not the next day, but let them know you still see them as a whole, sane, wonderful person that you love, want in your life, and even need.

Sooner or later, we all encounter people in crisis.  Sooner or later, we all are the person in crisis. We all need one another, and we can all be the friend that comes alongside.

If you're ever feeling suicidal, message me or call me.  

Here's another option I've used from time to time:

http://www.samaritans.org/

Be well, friends.

 

 

 

Alejandrina

I thought she was a boy when I first met her.  She walked into class with careless confidence, wearing a cub scout shirt, and a headband which kept her 2 long braids in place.  She had that free spirit thing going, which has always simultaneously drawn me to a person, and also made me jealous.  

Almost immediately, the teasing and taunting started.  Kids were mean, and no one wanted to be her friend.  I wasn't sure why, except different is bad, and Alejandrina was different.  Unlike the predominantly Alaskan Native class, she was loud, gregarious, and breezy.  She was comfortable in her own skin and as a newcomer, an outsider to a class who had been together since Kindergarten, maybe that was too much.  Our class was not kind to her.

As adults in a politically correct society, we purpose to be good at inclusion and acceptance.  In the church, we teach it and value it and tell ourselves we are good at it. When we invite someone to an event that we might not ordinarily invite, we think we've been inclusive.  When we reach out to someone outside of our circle of friends and bring them into the conversation or the group, we feel good about ourselves, and go to bed without guilt.  Maybe because we did more than others in our group, and so our comparison frees us to feel charitable.

But sometimes I wonder how the Alejandrinas of our workplaces and churches and small groups truly feel.  Do they notice that we are nice to them at church, but never seek their company outside of it?  Do they feel like a project of ours or do they feel loved unconditionally? Are they grateful for any kindness, or do they resent token love which holds a promise of something deeper, but never quite comes to fruition?  Are they grateful for mentorship, but wonder why they aren't good enough just to be our friend?

All of us are "different" in some context.  All of us have been that new person, or the one who sticks out, the one not quite like the others.  That feeling of being the one at odds has a strong effect on the psyche.  Stay too long the outsider, or the dissenter, or the newbie, and you start to wonder what's wrong with you, when in completely different contexts the people who make up the majority might be the "different" ones.  The need to fit in is a strong force, which can crush a spirit if left unfulfilled.

From what my parents tell me, Alejandrina's parents wore the "different" label too. Perhaps their well-traveled lives had been far more diverse than those of ours in isolated SE Alaska.  Perhaps their educational ideas were different than those of the conservative high school where they briefly taught.  Maybe they dressed differently, like their daughter.

My friend Alejandrina's family did not last long in Sitka.  Sadly, they did not last long in this world. Their experience of not being accepted made them easy targets for a group who would accept them, and would include them.  They became a part of the infamous Jonestown cult led by Jim Jones.  We understand they died in Georgetown amongst many others.

I've thought about Alejandrina many times over the years.  I loved everything about her, because she was my complete opposite.  Had we more time, I can just imagine the many adventures we might have had.  If life had given me daughters, one of them would have borne her name.

RIP, friend.  I accepted you.  Our friendship was real.  You mattered in this world and you inspire me still.


photo credit: AlexandraGalvis via photopin cc

This God

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This God that I serve.  Today I fell in love with Him all over again.  This God that you serve?  He's amazing. This God, who maybe you have only heard about and fear?  You are right to fear---we all do, but today I saw His heart all over again.

At the end of the age, what is He doing?  

He is walking around, finding all of the outcasts on earth.  He's looking for the rejected, and the lonely.  He's finding those that are broken and outliers.  He's looking for those who can't walk, for those infirmed.  For the ones who have to yell out, "UNCLEAN.  UNCLEAN," before they enter polite society.

And get this.  He's not giving them a word of encouragement.  He's not hugging them.

He's GATHERING them.  

And those He gathers, he makes into a strong nation.  

MIcah 4:6,7

I don't know my hermeneutics on this one.  But what I do see?  Is a God committed throughout all time and eternity to the underdog and those hurting.  A person can't read the Bible and not be struck by how often God talks about the widow and orphan and the oppressed.  

What struck me about this passage is that it's at THE END.  He wasn't in this to help them for His name sake.  He wasn't helping them because it was the right thing to do.  In THE END, when time slips away and becomes eternity-----HE IS STILL choosing the weak of the world, those no one else sees or cares about.  He's not congratulating yesterday's champions and the warriors of the cross, though He is too good not to get to that eventually.

At THE END, He is still going after those He loves.  Those who can offer Him nothing---because the battle's all but over.  He's choosing them, to develop, and to hang with Him for all eternity.  

I'm in awe.  

This God.

Photo credit:  

photo credit: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/kshathriya/6158606809/">Prabhu B Doss</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/">cc</a>

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Into Every Life

On January 16, 1997 Ennis Cosby, son of Bill Cosby was murdered on a highway in California while changing a tire. That event was significant to me. Being a child of the 80's, I grew up watching The Cosby Show. Before that, I spent hours watching Saturday morning cartoons and Fat Albert. My dad had Bill Cosby albums and I remember listening to them with him as a kid. Bill Cosby was a moral hero to me.

I was living in New York City in 1997, and the news stations were overtaken with the sad story. t was then that I realized that no one is immune from pain. I had watched close friends face tragedy and overwhelming pain. I had watched people I deeply loved divorce, face betrayals, lose life dreams, lose children, lose homes, and face horrific circumstances no one should ever have to face.

ut oddly enough, it was Bill Cosby's public loss which drove the point of universal pain home for me. Theologians have sought to answer the problem of pain since probably our father Adam got kicked out of the garden.  I won't repeat their efforts here.

I have just one point.

Pain produces either mercy or bitterness.

When I see the young and judgmental, or those who operate more in law than grace; when I see harshness in a person, when I see great judgementalness (which can manifest via gossip, or clique-ishness, or snobbery, or harsh preaching, or pointing out other's faults, or self-righteousness or any other number of ways); when I see this, I know the person is positioned for tremendous pain.

know because I've been all of those things. Many days, I still am. And pain has come, to break all of those things off of me.  One purpose of pain is to create mercy and grace in an individual.

Whatever other purposes pain serves in our life, I want to cooperate with it. I want to allow pain to produce compassion and understanding and grace and mercy in my life. If pain makes me bitter, I will only be positioned for more pain.

I don’t know why Bill Cosby lost his son.  Some pain is so great and so horrific that it can’t be explained this side of heaven.  I only know that this seems to be true:  Into every life . . . you know the rest.