I'm going to write a
quite serious blog today. This doesn't mean that my other blogs are
light-hearted and jovial, no it means that the subject matter is
serious. I want to talk about a subject that in Australia where I
live, each year claims over 2,500 lives and many thousands more
around the world. It is a subject that people seem almost reluctant
to talk about, which is a shame because it has more than likely
touched every one of us. I know that it has personally touched my
life. I'm talking about suicide.
The reason I want to
talk about it is that on the 13th of September in
Australia, it is R U OK? Day. This is where we are encouraged to ask
friends, family, work colleagues, if they are okay, and start a
dialogue that allows them to talk about how they are feeling and may
avert them from making that choice.
It was only two
years ago that it last touched my life. I have had it before a few
times. A friend of mine who I was pretty close to, who lived in
Queensland, decided to take this path. He had come out of a painful
relationship, met a lady who made him happy and had recently had a
child with her. It all seemed like it was picking up for him. Then,
one day he saw her and his son off for the day, and when she returned
he had taken his life. No signs, no warnings, no note. It still
baffles me why he chose that path and saddens me that he couldn't
phone to talk to someone who cared.
Now, it may seem
that I'm not understanding where he was when he made that decision.
I can tell you that I do. I have been there a number of times. I
don't tell people these things, because I am inclined to be a private
person, but I feel I need to put a dialogue out there, that let's
others know that if they really need someone, there is at least one
who understands. When I was a teenager, I was suffering the usual
teenage angst. I felt I wasn't loved, I felt I wasn't worth
anything, that I would never achieve anything. I distinctly remember
sitting at my desk in my bedroom, feeling as if I was in a black pit
and picking up a stanley blade, or box cutter if you prefer. I
rested it on my wrist and contemplated pulling it across to end my
pain and despair. The silly thing is that I had no idea what I was
doing and would have probably not succeeded, except to bleed a lot
and feel a lot of agony. I don't know what eventually stopped me but
I must have sat there for a good ten minutes with the blade on my
wrist. After those ten or so minutes were up, I put the blade away.
I didn't take my life obviously, but I kept feeling lots of moments
of despair, self-doubt and blackness that at times were overwhelming.
I even had a few times where I could feel I was on the precipice of
depression. It scared me to look over that edge, so I crawled back
away from it, thankfully.
When my first
marriage ended, it was my wife that left me. She wanted to take my
two boys back to the UK, and the courts had given her permission to
do that. In the space of a year, I had lost my grandmother to lung
cancer, my mother to pancreatic cancer, my marriage had failed, I
lost the right to keep my kids in the country, my finances were
screwed up, and I was miserable. Again, the thing that we call in
Australia, the black dog, was creeping up on me and the pain got
worse and worse. I was in a bit of a free-fall and I wondered how I
would get out of it. It seemed there was no light at the end of the
tunnel and there was one easy way to end all the pain. I toyed with
it many times, driving my car, thinking about how to do it through a
fatal car crash, handling knives and thinking how best to bleed
quickly. There were many ways I contemplated it.
Again, I couldn't
bring myself to take that last little step. That state of mind, the
despair, the pain, the not wanting to continue with the pain, carried
me through another marriage and another 12 years or so. It wasn't
always black and horrible, but it was always on the periphery of my
mind, like a moth around a light globe, dancing in and out, always
letting me know it was there. I don't know how I got through it.
Looking back, I still couldn't tell you, but I'm glad I did. It was
probably the day I sat down and really examined my life, and
developed The 7 Big Questions that I started to get rid of the black
dog. It wasn't an easy journey getting away from the black dog, but
it's one I'm so glad I took.
Looking back now, I
realise that it was stupid and foolish of me to not talk to a friend
about it, or even phone a help-line of some sort. It would have made
the journey easier, me less of a victim and saved me a lot of time.
So what I'm doing for you, is asking 'Are you okay?' Are you
struggling? Do you need a shoulder? I'm telling you that you can
get through it, it is possible. Not easy, but possible. Reach out
to someone, a trusted friend, a help-line, a counsellor, even me.
Don't fight this on your own and for heavens sake, don't take that
final step. You have wonderful gifts you can bring to the world, and
if you take that last step, we may never get to find out what they
are and that would be a tragedy. Reach out, know that you're not
alone. I ask you again 'Are you okay?'
Wayne
Brown is a facilitator and promoter for life change. Contact him at
or
listen to his podcasts at
www.the7bigquestions.podomatic.com
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