I wish that I could explain to people who think about taking, attempt to take, or do in fact take their lives that however bad it feels right now, it will pass. Things will get better.
I've a dear friend whose son took his life one evening when the hurdle he had to face (a new school year) seemed too much for him. Yet, with some tweaking of various elements of his life, mainly expectations, he would have gone on to have had many happy decades of life, I am sure. He was a gentle boy, very bright, and he'd have made a great contribution to this world, without question.
It's so interesting how the circumstance of one's life, which after all is just an illusion manufactured in the mind, can rise or fall on such little things, and so it seems to me that if we could just say to those desperate souls who decide to check out, especially at early ages, that what appears black today could tomorrow be a vibrant yellow.
It has been over two years since this boy took his life and I have wondered if his mother would ever get over it. Well, I know she will never be the same woman, but would she one day wake up and be glad to be alive again? This, I have wondered.
For some time I was concerned that she too would take her life to be with him, something she said she wanted, but in more recent times she has assured me that she would never do this. A medically trained person she believes in the sanctity of life and she just couldn't do it, she said.
Still, she has also talked of 'living a nightmare' and I have tried a few different things to shift her thinking. Particularly intelligent and not remotely spiritual or religious, there are limited options. I suggested a psychiatrist to get at those thoughts and challenge them, but she's the one to take this step, not me, and I don't think she's ever going to do it.
What to do? Well, she's a woman who loves a bone to chew and she's good at what she does, so I put her onto my mother's health and in time she had that situation sorted with names of the just the right professionals. She won't answer emails about her own pains but she'll gladly write away to come to the aid of someone else.
I wanted to do something for her to say 'thank you' and it occurred to me that music might be a sort of medicine, so I gave her two tickets to a Parisian Jazz Concert in town for just one evening. She took her sister and with excitement emailed the next day to say how wonderful it had been; how the audience had cheered and applauded and stood up and danced in the aisles, including her sister. It gave her a boost like nothing else I had tried had managed to do. For one night at least, she had loved life again, and maybe, just maybe, it might turn things around for her.
She talks to her son often. She still sleeps in his room to be close to him. She knows he visits, which is troubling on one level but also sorta wonderful that this totally scientific and rational woman can be reunited with her son in this way. She blames herself for the sadness that took his life, even though she was a totally devoted mother, and she feels a need to care for him in death as well. She's the child of survivors of Auschwitz. Who am I to tell her how to live and how to think?
In moments when I glimpse the vibrant woman I once knew it feels to me that anything in this world is possible, and so when she dropped off into my letterbox a CD that they were selling that night enclosed in a beautiful card I felt a deep sort of reverence for the art of 'companioning'; of walking side by side with someone who was walking through a deep, dark storm. I can't pretend to feel her pain but I can continue to reassure her that living a nightmare won't last forever. The mind truly does wish to heal.
If you think about music it is an extraordinary gift to the planet. A set of notes is written and learned. They are played, last a few seconds and then they disappear, and yet they can change our mindset; change our lives in fact; change the state of someone's world. A set of notes can remind us that there is much to live for; that man is capable of creating abundant joy. Music is therapy. Music is life. If they try to drop music in your children's school, fight for their rights to experience joy.
I've a dear friend whose son took his life one evening when the hurdle he had to face (a new school year) seemed too much for him. Yet, with some tweaking of various elements of his life, mainly expectations, he would have gone on to have had many happy decades of life, I am sure. He was a gentle boy, very bright, and he'd have made a great contribution to this world, without question.
It's so interesting how the circumstance of one's life, which after all is just an illusion manufactured in the mind, can rise or fall on such little things, and so it seems to me that if we could just say to those desperate souls who decide to check out, especially at early ages, that what appears black today could tomorrow be a vibrant yellow.
It has been over two years since this boy took his life and I have wondered if his mother would ever get over it. Well, I know she will never be the same woman, but would she one day wake up and be glad to be alive again? This, I have wondered.
For some time I was concerned that she too would take her life to be with him, something she said she wanted, but in more recent times she has assured me that she would never do this. A medically trained person she believes in the sanctity of life and she just couldn't do it, she said.
Still, she has also talked of 'living a nightmare' and I have tried a few different things to shift her thinking. Particularly intelligent and not remotely spiritual or religious, there are limited options. I suggested a psychiatrist to get at those thoughts and challenge them, but she's the one to take this step, not me, and I don't think she's ever going to do it.
What to do? Well, she's a woman who loves a bone to chew and she's good at what she does, so I put her onto my mother's health and in time she had that situation sorted with names of the just the right professionals. She won't answer emails about her own pains but she'll gladly write away to come to the aid of someone else.
I wanted to do something for her to say 'thank you' and it occurred to me that music might be a sort of medicine, so I gave her two tickets to a Parisian Jazz Concert in town for just one evening. She took her sister and with excitement emailed the next day to say how wonderful it had been; how the audience had cheered and applauded and stood up and danced in the aisles, including her sister. It gave her a boost like nothing else I had tried had managed to do. For one night at least, she had loved life again, and maybe, just maybe, it might turn things around for her.
She talks to her son often. She still sleeps in his room to be close to him. She knows he visits, which is troubling on one level but also sorta wonderful that this totally scientific and rational woman can be reunited with her son in this way. She blames herself for the sadness that took his life, even though she was a totally devoted mother, and she feels a need to care for him in death as well. She's the child of survivors of Auschwitz. Who am I to tell her how to live and how to think?
In moments when I glimpse the vibrant woman I once knew it feels to me that anything in this world is possible, and so when she dropped off into my letterbox a CD that they were selling that night enclosed in a beautiful card I felt a deep sort of reverence for the art of 'companioning'; of walking side by side with someone who was walking through a deep, dark storm. I can't pretend to feel her pain but I can continue to reassure her that living a nightmare won't last forever. The mind truly does wish to heal.
If you think about music it is an extraordinary gift to the planet. A set of notes is written and learned. They are played, last a few seconds and then they disappear, and yet they can change our mindset; change our lives in fact; change the state of someone's world. A set of notes can remind us that there is much to live for; that man is capable of creating abundant joy. Music is therapy. Music is life. If they try to drop music in your children's school, fight for their rights to experience joy.
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