Fencing With The Universe

“In your wisest and in your most confused, be friendly toward yourself.”  -Pema Chodron

I wrote a suicide note in my mind tonight. I’m not in danger. I just need to speak it, as part of my own safety system. I talk about it when it comes up. That’s my commitment. No silence. No secrecy. No isolation. 

My note said,

“I don’t have the courage to live as a gay woman, but I can’t live as a heterosexual one anymore. I can excise everything, and everyone around me, sterilize my life, but I cannot escape from myself. To all of the suicide prevention advocates who always remind us not to ascribe a single reason to a suicide, that there are so many nuances and elements to a person’s story–fuck you. I won’t allow my story to be watered down with ‘nuance’ and ‘elements.’ This is the reason. This is it. The only one. It’s because I’m gay, and I hurt so much. I’m so tired, and I don’t want to suffer any more. No more. No, no more. Please.”

Somehow it was more eloquent, and noble in my head. Not so much, here.

No one is making me choose what I choose. I’m a mature, educated woman. I’m a mother, and a professional. I have power over my life. I’m solely responsible for my happiness.

 

And . . . I feel like paper. Like rice paper.

I just did a search for descriptions of rice paper. The first article was called, “Rice Paper: The Magical Treasure.” That’s funny. It must be a serendipitous parry from the Universe.

The kindest thing to do right now is to brush my teeth, get a drink of water, and put myself to bed.

I’ve been here before, and I know it gets better.

My recipe for making it through: be here, be truthful, be kind, and breathe in between.

 

“Be kinder to yourself, and then let your kindness flood the world.”  -Pema Chodron

Advertisements

One thought on “Fencing With The Universe

  1. Thank you for writing this down. I’m remembering a distant moment when I decided to sit and write out my feelings. It started with writing phrases like “I never knew it would be this hard” and ended with scribbling lines all over the page, digging the pen in until it tore, and eventually tearing up the whole stack of paper and throwing it into a heap on the floor. Sometimes it sucks.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s