Category: Suicide

Posted in bipolar disorder, Depression, Mental Illness, Pain, Psych meds, Suicide

Help Me. I Am In Pain

Posted on by debthumanblog

One day, my neurobiology teacher asked the class what they thought about people who were mentally ill. 

“Scary.”

“Batshit crazy.” That was said by a graduate student who knew, prior to saying I’m batshit crazy, that I’m bipolar. I know he knew because I had told him. 

I’m not scary. I’m not batshit crazy. I’m in pain. The kind of pain that an OTC painkiller won’t kill. The kind of pain that is bone deep. The kind of pain that doesn’t go away. The kind if pain caused by 16 years of child abuse, by a violent, drunken, narcissistic mother who hated me, by her violent drunken husband, by a family that taught seeking help was the worst thing that a person could do. That kind of pain. 

The first time I tried to kill myself, I was 11. I stood at the kitchen sink holding the knife in my hand. “This is going to hurt.” That’s what stopped me.

Six times in my life, I’ve been suicidal. People who are bipolar have a suicide rate 20 times that of the rest of the population. I live in terror that my life will end by suicide. Suicide has been called a permanent solution. Bipolar disorder is a permanent problem. 

I’m on psych meds. They help. They don’t cure. They dull symptoms of depression and mania. They do nothing to protect me from the ignorance and fear of others. Some of the others are well meaning, but aren’t ready to look at mental illness. Some are repulsed as if I had some horrible, contagious disease. Some are terrified of me. Some try to push me back into a closet. Some, don’t want to hear me when I say that those who stay in the closet are a huge part of the stigma of mental illness. 

“If I read the words, why do I have to keep looking at this painting?”

You have to keep looking, because I have to keep living in this mental hell. I make you look because I refuse to live in a closet. If my painting were about a broken leg, would you have the same criticism? You have to keep looking because that painting isn’t abstract; it’s realism. It’s my reality.

May is Mental Illness Awareness Month. Look at me. Listen to me. I am not batshit crazy. I am not scary. I am scared. I am in pain. I’m locked in a mental hell from which I cannot escape.

Posted in anxiety, Judiasm, Photography, Suicide

Life As I See It

Posted on by debthumanblog

I did the final shots for Shalom Shabbat and Yahrzeit. Yahrzeit was shot at the beginning of the yahrzeit for the person I knew who committed suicide three years ago. Then, I let the candle burn down and thought about how the person’s life burned down and disappeared. I still don’t understand why the suicide happened and I’m not enthralled with the idea I will never understand. This is the first time I was able to say kaddish. I broke down after the first two words and had to force myself to say the rest of the prayer.

Shabbat Shalom
Yahrzeit

I’ve taken a few more shots for the sense of place assignment for my photography class. I made the decision that I’ll do the assignments that interest me and forget about the rest. It’s a difficult class. The subject matter isn’t difficult – it’s the class itself that is causing severe anxiety. The class is taught by a grad student. I’ve had grad student teachers before and some are fantastic. This grad student is far from fantastic. She proclaimed Annie Leibowitz is a fashion photographer. Certainly what John Lennon was wearing in the famous shot taken a few hours before he was killed was fashion forward. I had no idea Rolling Stone had a fashion section. Yes, Leibowitz shot several covers for Vogue, but those shots are clearly portrait shots. To shoot a good portrait shot, you have to focus on the person’s eyes. Fashion photography focuses on the clothing. The covers Leibowitz shot focus on the face and the clothing is an after thought. The student next to me said that Georgia O’Keeffe was “some sort of artist, I think.” I live in southern New Mexico and it’s impossible for me to imagine any art student here isn’t familiar with Georgia O’Keeffe’s work. I try not to have physical reactions to things the other students say, but I did a face plant when I heard that. 

I started playing around with a photo of a bunny-munched prickly pear cactus pad.

I got out the macro lens to shoot yucca seed pods.

Apparently 14 years is the lifespan of an iPod. I had to break down and buy an iPod Touch. When I want music, I want music. I don’t want texts. I don’t want phone calls. I don’t want games. If I’m going to watch a movie, it won’t be on a 4” screen. I blasted off all the apps I have never used on my iPhone and certainly would never use on an iPod. Next, I had to buy new earbuds. The ones I had will only pair on one ear. I bought a set of JBL earbuds. They stay in my ears and both pair with the iPod. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My store, Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

Posted in Emotions, Fiber, Grief, Photography, Quilts, Suicide

Candlelight

Posted on by debthumanblog

I’m taking a photography class at the local university. The class is being taught by a grad student. I’m the only one in the class who has worked with film. My first single lens reflex camera was a Valentine’s Day present in 1980. Canon – AT1, the last fully manual camera Canon made. I loved that camera, I still have it, and it’s older than everyone in my class. My current camera, a DSLR Canon 90D, was a Valentine’s Day gift in 2020.

We’re assigned to take a series of photos showing a sense of place, but not the usual chamber of commerce type shots.

These are studies for two photos.

Shabbat Shalom

Shabbat shalom means sabbath peace. I made the quilt after a terrorist armed with an assault rifle walked into the Tree of Life synagog in Pittsburgh and killed 11 people. When congregants were allowed back into the sanctuary, they saw blood spatter and brain matter on the walls. The blue in the middle is Chai, the Hebrew word meaning Life. On shabbat, two candles are lit to celebrate the beginning of shabbat. The candleholders – which can be elaborate or simple – are a ceramic pair I made specifically for shabbat candles. The final shot will be taken after dark and with the candles lit. I wanted to get as much of the shot as possible set up in advance.

Yahrzeit

Three years ago, someone I knew killed himself. Tonight begins his yahrzeit – the anniversary of his death. The quilt is one I made in an attempt to make sense of his suicide. I’ll be taking the formal shot after sundown and lighting the yahrzeit candle.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My store, Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in bipolar disorder, Depression, Emotions, Suicide

Open The Door, Shut Your Mouth, and Listen

Posted on by debthumanblog

What I’d like to say: Listen you stupid motherfucker…… except that wouldn’t be productive. I offered to do a talk about suicide complete with a power point of my quilts about suicide. I got a return email saying that given the situation with covid, talking about suicide wouldn’t be a good idea but are there other quilts I’d like to talk about.

No, asshole – it would be a wonderful idea. New Mexico has the highest suicide rate in the country and part of the reason for that is no one wants to talk about suicide. Then they all crap their pants and wonder what went wrong when they have to bury a loved one who just blew his brains out. Someone I knew would likely be alive today if people had talked about suicide. If people admitted depression isn’t a moral failure. If people admitted asking for help isn’t indicative of weakness. It’s been two years since his suicide, and I’m still torn apart inside.

My quilts have been pretty dark the last three years. They have been about suicide, mass shooting, and isolation. Art is how I understand my dark emotions. None of my quilts are cheery topics. Life isn’t always cheery and anyone who expects life to be cheery is going to be disappointed. I rarely make pretty quilts. You want pretty? Go to Walmart. Lots of unoffensive, unthought provoking, sofa matching art there.

It isn’t easy being mentally ill. It’s even harder when people refuse to listen. But what do I know? I’m just the crazy woman and I need to be treated like a two-year-old. If I were smart, I wouldn’t be bipolar. Maybe the proper response really is: Listen you stupid motherfucker….

Posted in Fiber, Quilts, Suicide

Return to Sanity

Posted on by debthumanblog

I watched the inauguration on Wednesday. It was cold, and the women (and some men) wore coats that had the first button around waist level. That’s not a winter coat and it won’t keep anyone warm. Surely there’s a designer out there who can create a warm winter coat that’s also stylish. Bernie Sanders may have had the best idea, and the best mittens. He needed a hat, though.

There are two things Lady Gaga can do very well. She can make an entrance and can make an unsingable Star Spangled Banner sound beautiful. I loved her dress and the dove. Only Lady Gaga could hold her skirt up while walking down stairs, and still look fantastic.

J Lo, if you’re going to sing This Land is Your Land, sing all the verses. Especially the final verse:

Nobody living can ever stop me, 
As I go walking that freedom highway; 
Nobody living can ever make me turn back 
This land was made for you and me. 

Woody didn’t write songs to be pretty. He wrote songs to make a point which J Lo clearly missed.

Monday is the yahrzeit of the deputy who killed himself. This year is easier than last year, but it’s still a sad, confusing, emotional time for me. I’ve quilted about his suicide. I’ve written about his suicide. It still tears me apart.

This is the second quilt I made about his suicide. Only the bottom half is quilted. We know what happens when we are alive. We may have beliefs about what happens after we die, but we don’t know what happens.

I’ve been working on two other quilts.

I had a manipulated photo printed by Spoonflower. I’m quilting via machine around the circles, and that’s when I discovered the cataracts have gotten bad enough that I’m limited on what close work I can do. I can’t have cataract surgery because there’s a 25% chance of the retina in my right eye detaching. A souvenir from growing up in a house run by a violent, narcissistic drunk and her violent drunken husband. Once it’s safe to travel again, I’m going to have to start looking for someone who can do high risk cataract surgery.

This is a manipulated photo of a sandhill crane at Bosque del Apache. I had it printed by Spoonflower. I haven’t started to quilt it yet.

Looking for the perfect Valentine’s Day gift? Please visit my store, Deb Thuman Art here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Looking for wild fabric designs? My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Posted in Fiber, Judiasm, Photography, Quilts, Suicide

Quilts, Shutdown, And Other Joys of Modern Life

Posted on by debthumanblog

I’ve finally put the binding on a quilt made in memory of 11 people who were killed inside a temple in Pittsburgh a couple years ago. The blue in the center is the Hebrew word for life. The 11 Stars of David are for the 11 people killed. The red is blood spatter. I remember reading that when members of the temple went inside the temple, they found blood spatter and brain tissue on the walls. 

I quilted and put binding on the suicide quilt. I’ve only quilted the bottom half of the quilt. We don’t know what happens after we die. People have an assortment of beliefs about what happens, but no one knows for sure. The lack of quilting reflects that unknowing. The line between the hands is how connections between people are forever severed when someone dies. 

New Mexico is shut down for two weeks. The number of new infections each day is out of control. I doubt shutting down for two weeks will make a difference. I think the timing of the shutdown is an attempt to keep people home on Thanksgiving. I suspect the state will remain shut down until the end of the year. 

I’m getting tired of this virus. Tired of not being able to go anywhere. Tired of having my photography restricted to what’s in my yard. While dead yucca seed pods are interesting, there are only so many I can look at before I get bored. 

I’ve been playing with photographs of the only part of my yard that looks like a forest. The rest of the yard looks like a desert. 

Last spring, I found a cholla I hadn’t seen before. It had small, white flowers rather than the large, garish purple flowers on all the other chollas in my yard. Now, it’s got tiny tunas about the size of a marble. The other chollas don’t have tunas. 

I’ve been doing most of my shopping online and it’s taking a long time for things I order to arrive. I think this is a combination of horrible orders given to the postal service in an attempt to stop mail-in ballots and the larger than usual number of packages traveling through the mail. I have an online store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.DebThumanArt.com. I mail out orders Monday through Saturday the day after the orders are placed. If an order is placed on Saturday, it won’t go out until Monday. Please shop early to allow for gifts to arrive in time for Christmas. 

My Spoonflower order has shipped; and when it arrives, I’ll be putting 168 new fabric designs in my Spoonflower store https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Posted in Baking, Emotions, Fiber, Grief, Photography, Suicide

A Few Surprises

Posted on by debthumanblog

I waited too long to photograph fabric outside. We’re having WIND. I was stuck with either not photographing my latest fun stuff, or taking crappy photos. Herewith are some crappy photos. 

As many of you know, I have a Spoonflower shop. If you click on a fabric design, then click on “All Products,” you can see how the fabric looks as table linens, bedding, curtains and wallpaper. I am having so much fun playing around, manipulating photos and creating fabric designs. Before I can sell my designs, I have to order proofs of the designs. These are the proofs I’ve gotten back.

I’m taking a yoga class this semester and I needed yoga pants. I altered a yoga pants pattern, got out the binders, dye and bucket, and made yoga pants. I put patch pockets on the pants, but I’m not thrilled about where I put them. Next time, I want to try welt pockets. 

In case you’ve ever wondered, it’s not a good idea to try to do photography and bake simultaneously. The timer kept going off.

Sourdough cherry coffeecake with crumb topping.

I don’t run from my triggers because I don’t want painful memories to own me. I have been binging on ER. The other night, I watched a couple episodes that dealt with the suicide of one of the doctors. Having been suicidal and knowing someone who committed suicide, I respond to such stories on an emotional level. I had to spend quality time writing after watching the episodes. My first emotional art was ceramic. I didn’t understand what I was feeling until my feelings came out of my hands and into clay. I’m now having the same understanding by letting my feelings come out through my fingers and into my laptop. I was a writer long before my art meandered into clay, fiber and beads. Oddly, it has only been the last year that I’ve created emotional writing. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

You can find my Spoonflower shop here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My online store, Deb Thuman Art, is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in bipolar disorder, Fiber, Suicide

Dogs, Bipolar Disorder, Suicide, Quilts

Posted on by debthumanblog

For the last couple years, I’ve been trying off and on to find a service dog trained to work with someone who has bipolar disorder. I’ve found a place out of state that will charge $16,000 for the dog and I’d have to move there for four months to be trained with the dog. Nope. 

I’ve found places where service dogs are trained to work with people who have PTSD. Nice, but PTSD isn’t bipolar disorder. That would be like suggesting you have open heart surgery when what you need is to have your gallbladder removed. 

Finally, I found a trainer who not only trains dogs to work with people who have bipolar disorder, but comes to the house to train both the dog and the human simultaneously. There was some sort of dog convention in the convention center this weekend, and we got to meet the trainer. When I read all the things a psychiatric service dog can be trained to do, I nearly cried. Dogs can smell mood swings at the start of the swing. You’d think I could do better than this, but I don’t realize I’m manic until I’m bouncing off the ceiling or that I’m depressed until I’m suicidal. I’ve had insomnia for the last couple weeks and I’ve never had insomnia. I only figured out the day before yesterday that I’m having a manic episode. Manic is annoying, but depressive is terrifying. The suicide rate for people who have bipolar disorder is 20 times that of the rest of the population. Depressive episodes are life threatening.

The dog can be trained to make sure I take my meds at the same time every day, get up at the same time and go to bed at the same time. Routine can be extremely helpful in managing bipolar disorder. 

The dog, most likely a rescue dog, will cost me about $200 and will already be house broken, neutered/spayed, and have up to date vaccinations. Training will last 9-18 months at a cost of $200 a month. When the training ends, I’ll be in a position to train another dog when the first dog retires. 

The trainer suggested getting a dog 2-3 years old. We have two cats and the cats aren’t going anywhere. The dog has to be okay living with cats. Also dogs that age are easiest to train. My dog, when I get one, will be trained to get on the shuttle bus at school, go to class with me, get on a train (can’t wait to take an overnight train trip) and fly. The flying training encompasses everything up to getting through airport security. Airlines have to let a person fly with a service dog and cannot charge additional for the dog. Yes, there are airlines that do that. As my first amendment teacher in law school said, don’t assume something is legal just because someone is doing it. However, flying with a service dog means being all but guaranteed a seat in the front row where there’s the most leg room. Jim is 6’3” and needs extra leg room. 

If it’s a place where the public can go – airport, restaurant, post office, class room – the facility must allow service dogs. No exceptions. It’s federal law and most states have a parallel law. 

I’m in the process of setting up an appointment for both the trainer and I to go to a dog rescue organization and see if they have an appropriate dog for me. Once I get the dog that’s right for me, training can begin immediately. I’m so psyched about this. For the first time in my life, I’m going to be able to live a normal life. I wonder what that’s going to feel like. 

I’ve been working on art quilts. I’ve got the quilting done on the memorial quilt about the people murdered at the temple in Pittsburgh last October. The Hebrew word in the middle is Chai. It means life. There is a quilted star for each of the 11 people murdered. The red threads are temporarily holding the layers together. I need to trim the quilt, pick out a backing, finish the piece, and launder it. 

I’ve got a good start on the quilt about someone I knew who committed suicide. The horizontal threads are temporarily holding the quilt together. There’s a trick to photographing shiny stuff. Obviously, I don’t know what that trick is. I find myself working out emotions while working on this quilt. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com  Stop by and see what other artists are doing. 

If you’re looking for something that’s one of a kind, please visit my store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in Baking, bipolar disorder, Depression, Psych meds, Suicide

Here’s Why I Have No Ambition

Posted on by debthumanblog

I don’t feel like doing anything. I don’t feel like making art. I don’t feel like studying although I enjoy my two botany classes. I don’t feel like reading. I just looked at a recipe for banana cake with maple cream cheese frosting. Certainly a combination of flavors that will be wonderful. I don’t feel like making the cake although I could probably be convinced to make the frosting and eat it with a spoon. 

This was bothering me until I thought about the cause for the lack of ambition. In the last year, I’ve been through:

  • Deciding to commit suicide and coming back from the edge
  • Going on Cymbalta which I did reluctantly
  • Four infections in five months
  • Severe nerve pain
  • Having to report sexual harassment to the campus police
  • Having the joy sucked out of life and realizing the problem was Cymbalta
  • Coming off Cymbalta and going through horrendous withdrawal 
  • Having cognitive deficits from the withdrawal and not being able to find the street where I live
  • Having so many withdrawal problems that I was sure I was going to be hospitalized so I drafted an advance psychiatric directive and packed a bag before I went to my appointment with my doctor
  • Having breakthrough bleeding and doing the research to find the causes, treatments and incidence of uterine cancer
  • Having to wait a month for a biopsy and another week for the results
  • Having severe anxiety resulting in many cookies and scarves
  • The dishwasher broke just after Thanksgiving
  • Someone I knew committed suicide

No sane person would have any ambition after all that.

I look back, and wonder how I managed when I was working for the Public Defender Department. I think part of survival was to do what I really shouldn’t do – ignore what’s going on inside of me and keep myself busy so I don’t feel much. Now, I don’t have an extreme stress and adrenaline job. Now, I have time to take care of myself and no excuse not to take care of myself.

In Sylvia Plath’s book The Bell Jar, she compares depression to being under a bell jar. From time to time, the bell jar lifts, but she knows it will always come back down. I had a mental health crisis this week. I sort of saw it coming on Wednesday night when I found myself thinking about suicide. The suicide rate for people with bipolar disorder is 20 times the rate for people who aren’t bipolar.

I am 20 times as likely to commit suicide as you. That’s terrifying.

Thursday morning, the anxiety and depression increased. I cried a lot. I needed an extra ½ pill of Wellbutrin. I needed to take all three klonopin. I’ve been on the same dose for klonopin for the last 12 years. Sometimes I don’t need klonopin. Sometimes, I need one or two. Thursday, I needed three to stop the flutters in my chest.

Today, I feel the bell jar coming back down. On Monday, I’ll call my doctor and talk to her about increasing my meds. I don’t like living like this. Suicide terrifies me and I want to live.

Bipolar disorder: the ability to feel like crap 80% of the time.

I’m still knitting to keep the anxiety down. Here’s my latest scarf and it’s in my store: Deb Thuman Art http://debthumanart.com

I’ve Got The Browns

One of the tings I can do to make the bipolar crap go away is to immerse myself with art. Before, art was visual. This time, art is verbal. I’m working on the novel and just did a massive editing. I had Jim print out what I had written, and I went through the pages by hand. I’ll put all the changes into the computer when I finish editing. I’m playing around with an idea for something that I’ve never seen done before. Don’t know how well it’s going to work, but it’s an interesting exercise.

I’m also baking to keep the depression from getting any worse. I’m making croissants. Because of the time between turns and the amount of time the dough has to be in the refrigerator before I can turn it into croissants, I make the dough on Saturday and cut out, shape, and bake the croissants on Sunday morning. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Looking for a great gift? A treat for yourself? Please stop by my store, Deb Thuman Art http://debthumanart.com

Posted in Baking, bipolar disorder, Depression, Fiber, Grief, Suicide

Feeling Better, still…upset? Sad? Angry?

Posted on by debthumanblog

I’m still woking my way to understanding and sanity. I’ve written more conversations that I’ll never say out loud and that no one will ever read. Maybe. Someday. Right now, the feelings are still too raw. 

I’m closer to center, and I feel…solid. Like being centered is going to stay. Bipolar disorder is a lifetime full of mood surprises. I’ve no idea how long this solid feeling center will last. I do know that it won’t last. Sooner or late, I’ll have another mood surprise.

I did a google search to find a way to make sense of suicide and came across this site:https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/end-of-life/in-depth/suicide/art-20044900

It’s from the Mayo Clinic and I trust this website to have decent information. There’s a whole lot of inaccurate junk on the internet. So much of what is described in the article is an accurate description of what I felt and continue to feel. I’m troubled by the knowledge that I was brought back from the edge of suicide by a thin thread. Depending on your theology, this was either pure luck or divine intervention. Jim and I went hiking and I suddenly felt good. When we got home, the good feeling left and I realized I was depressed. I went on antidepressants immediately. I had no idea I was depressed. Yeah, right, Deb. How the heck can you be suicidal and not know you’re depressed. It’s easy. And that terrifies me. At the time I was aware that I was having a manic episode. I wasn’t aware I was having a mixed episode where both intense mania and intense depression coexist. Why am I allowed to continue life and John wasn’t? I want the world to make sense, and the world doesn’t make sense. The world has never made sense and will never make sense. I read murder mysteries and watch TV police dramas even though I know the shows are inaccurate. The world makes sense in murder mysteries and on television. Innocent people don’t go to prison in novels. Innocent people go to prison in courtrooms every day.

My world doesn’t make sense and I can’t figure out how to make the world make sense. And so I knit. And bake. This week, I made puff pastry. Um…..I’m not wild about puff pastry. I suppose it has its uses, but I don’t care for it.

I’ve made another scarf and bought yarn for four more scarves. So far, I’ve made 11 scarves and sold 5 of them. This one is listed in my store Deb Thuman Artwww.debthumanart.com

I’m linking with Nina Marie. Stop by and see what other artists are doing.http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Posted in Baking, bipolar disorder, Depression, Grief, Suicide

Writing my way back to center

Posted on by debthumanblog

My psych meds keep me alive. Literally. After a depression so severe that I decided killing myself was a rational decision, had worked out how when and where, and by divine intervention realized I had to go back on antidepressants, I decided I’d never again discontinue Wellbutrin. I had good reasons for going off Wellbutrin. I was having hallucinations. I had left a toxic work environment three years prior. Maybe I could get by with just my mood stabilizer.

And then someone I knew killed himself. I’m still reeling. I’m not crying as much, but I haven’t recovered. I still have questions about why I’m alive and he isn’t. I still have no appetite. Fortunately, I’m seriously overweight so not having an appetite isn’t a health issue and won’t be for several more months.

Earlier this week, I tried writing out my feelings. It’s a written piece that I can’t share now and doubt I’ll ever share. It’s too personal. Too raw. It almost helped. Or rather it helped for a few days.

The depressive episode arrived this past Monday. I saw my psychologist on Tuesday. It didn’t help. The depression lifted – I though – on Wednesday. It came roaring back yesterday. The usual depression cures didn’t work. Jim and I went to a kitchen store in El Paso. Kitchen stores, even if I don’t buy anything, reliably lift the depression. Not this time.

I’m working on more scarves. Knitting the scarves helped me through the intense anxiety while waiting for doctors appointments, biopsy appointment, results showing I don’t have cancer. It’s not working this time.

I tried baking my way out of this depression. I found a recipe for chocolate cutout cookies and tried piping royal icing. I need to listen to myself. I thought that icing was too stiff. I was right but by then, the icing was in the pastry bag and there was no going back. And I was out of powdered sugar so I couldn’t start over.

I love botany. That’s what I concentrated on in college. Botany and microbiology. The smaller things get, the more fascinating things are. I am taking two botany classes this semester: structure and function of plants and plant physiology. Same text book for both classes. One set of studying for two classes. What could be better? Except I’m depressed and don’t care about the classes.

I have the blood spatter on the background fabric for a quilt about the murders in the synagog in Pittsburgh last fall. I can’t bring myself to work on the quilt.

So I sit here. Depressed. Knowing I need to read the textbook for my classes next week. Knowing I need to at least read over my notes for a test on Monday. Not wanting to do anything. Knowing I have to wait out this depressive episode. Knowing there’s no shortcut. No cure. No relief. Just tears.

At least I did laundry and will have clean underwear next week.

I’m linking with Nina Marie. Stop by and see what other artists are making http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Looking for one of a kind jewelry? Scarves? Seam ripper? Please stop by my store, Deb Thuman Art https://www.debthumanart.com

Posted in Emotions, Grief, Judiasm, Suicide

Post Funeral Thoughts

Posted on by debthumanblog

A deputy I knew and worked with committed suicide. I don’t know why, but this has hit me incredibly hard. I spent much of Tuesday and Wednesday crying. I wasn’t sure I would attend the funeral because I didn’t think I could hold myself together. I’ve still got that memory in my head where my mother yells at me to stop crying. Didn’t take me long to learn I needed to keep my feelings to myself.

I ironed my funeral clothes and figured that was a sign I should go to the funeral. The visitation was before the funeral and I arrived at the start of the visitation. Fortunately, or probably as a practical matter, the casket was closed. A US flag covered the casket. I had planned on having a private chat with the late deputy. Most of the chat took place in the car while I was waiting for the viewing to start. I said things in my head that I couldn’t say aloud. Things from deep inside of me. So deep light rarely reaches them.

When I got up to the casket, I put my hand on the casket and gave a silent wish…. Shalom. It’s a Hebrew word that means peace. Not just the absence of war, but an all encompassing peace that reaches to the depths of your soul. I had tried a couple times the days before the funeral to say kaddish. I couldn’t get through the prayer.

A cruel cosmic joke would be that after suicide, we’re just as depressed and hurting as before we pulled the trigger.   

I patted the casket and heard a clank. Metal casket and I must have brought my hand down too hard. Per the obit, he’s going to be cremated. I hope that casket was a rental because buying a casket for someone who is to be cremated is silly.

I wonder if the casket is empty. Just for show and the body is about to be cremated.

As we waited for the funeral to begin, we could watch a montage of photographs of his life. One photo was of a younger version of him with his very young daughter. The love he had for her was obvious. 

You had the world by the ass. You obviously loved your daughter and granddaughter. You had friends. You had a life outside of work. You had work you loved. Why did you kill yourself?

So many smiles in the photos. Every time I saw him, he was smiling. He was always so nice to me.

Why didn’t you let one of us know you were hurting?  

Actually, I know why he didn’t let anyone know.

Or did you leave me a clue when you asked me, “Don’t you just love our fucking society?” I’m so sorry; I never understood it was a clue. Please come back and let me make it up to you.

Suicide, when you’re that depressed, seems rational. Why ask for help with a rational decision?

I could have helped you. I’ve danced on the same road. It hurts so much knowing I could have helped you and I never had the chance. 

I held myself together through the funeral. I fell apart during the last radio call.

Goddamn it! Why did you do this? 

The piper, who played the bagpipes particularly well, played Amazing Grace and I composed myself. Kind of like composing a song only different. I was fine until deputies started hugging me and I started crying again.

If you’re reading this and thinking suicide is a rational option, please do a favor for the people who know and love you: TELL SOMEONE. Thinking death is a good idea means something is very wrong. Go to the hospital. If no one offers to take you, go by yourself. Proper medication gave me back my life. Proper medication will do the same for you.

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Posted in Emotions, Grief, Judiasm, Suicide

And so it goes…..

Posted on by debthumanblog

“One day Richard Cory went home and put a bullet through his head.” 

A deputy I knew, worked with and liked killed himself last Friday. Baruch dyan ha’emet. Blessed is the true judge. 

When I read the article in the paper this morning, my first though was had I known, I could have helped him. Except that’s not how suicide works. Jim and a close friend didn’t know I was suicidal until I told them I had a detailed plan to kill myself. 

The problem with suicide is it feels normal. It doesn’t feel like depression. It feels like a rational decision. Now, the decision to kill myself feels terrifying. Then, it felt normal. 

I don’t know any of the private parts of this man’s life. I know he loved the work he was doing. Doing work one loves is rare and wonderful. I know he was full of a high-power, fast oscillating energy. It’s hard to explain, but I could feel this energy when I worked with him. It didn’t feel like a negative energy. It felt more like it was a part of him – something that made him who he was. I’ve never met anyone else with that kind of energy. Now, that energy is gone. He’s gone. I feel like he threw his life away.  Except I know that’s not how suicide feels. Suicide feels right. Rational.

I want to hold on to the stupid generalities people have about suicide; except I can’t.

“Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” No, suicide is larger than that. 

“He had his whole life ahead of him.” Someone who is 95 has her whole life ahead of her. 

“He threw his life away.” No, he made a rational, or what felt to him like a rational decision. 

Oddly, I don’t feel plagued by why. Why did he kill himself? I know when I was suicidal, I thought killing myself was a good decision. I put several weeks of thought into killing myself. I suspect he did, too. Why? Because life was too painful to be lived. Because suicide felt like a good decision. Because he couldn’t find the door. That’s what I mourn. That I never had a chance to help him find the door. 

Oseh shalom bim’romav hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu v’al kol Yis’ra’eil v’im’ru, Amein.
He Who makes peace in His heights, may He make peace, upon us and upon all Israel. Now say: Amen.

Shalom, John. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com