A young woman took her life yesterday. She left behind two small children and a lot
of questions. She was related to a
person here at work. As I sit here,
trying to do my job, I can hear their conversations a couple of cubicles over –
oh, she was on drugs, she was irresponsible, she was in and out of mental
facilities so it’s no surprise. Cold,
callous, blaming the victim.
I can see in very sharp and crystal clear clarity why this
woman took her life – if that’s how much her own family cared, she most likely
believed no one cared. So why
bother? And it’s that attitude – the attitude
that she was the one at fault and no one else – that is causing me the most
pain today. Gods forbid we should turn
that spotlight on ourselves and see what we might have done to contribute to
the problem or what we could have done to prevent it. Refusing to admit we might feel badly about
the whole situation won’t fix anything.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.
Here, here’s a card.”
False sincerity. When
the card came around to me, I couldn’t sign it.
“It’s for the children.” Really? Is this supposed to make them feel
better? A bunch of strangers signed a
card – well, that just fixes everything!
I’m appalled….
I can’t listen to their conversations anymore. I’ll probably spend the rest of this day with
my iPod earbuds jammed into my ears.
I’m angry with how this whole thing is being perceived. Obviously, the family knew there was a
problem and there were a few feeble attempts to fix it, but from what I can
gather, she had little to no actual emotional support. That’s the real crime here. Pills and psychiatrists can only do so
much. If she was trying to get better,
the least they could have done is support her.
Well, I take that back. They did
do the least, and that was nothing.
Did anyone ever tell her it doesn’t stay dark forever?
