Thanks guys,

I've been working on something this morning, that I thought I'd post here as well. It's not the right place for it, it's certainly not poetry, but didn't want to start another depressing thread!

_______________

A little less than a year ago I found myself standing outside a church, preparing myself for the funeral of a friend who had decided to take her own life. Later that night we all sat and talked it through, trying to make sense of the situation, and wondering why, even though we saw the signs, we, as her friends, managed to allow her to get to such a dark point in her life, that she saw no way out.

Last night I found myself doing the exact same thing. Different person, different situation, same tragic outcome.

By now we know the drill. Talk it over, wish we’d done more, and then move on. Every year we will think of these people around this time; we’ll have a drink in their honour and play a game of Remember When.

I am tired of letting things go. When you get to a point where almost everyone you meet has lost someone unnecessarily, it’s time to realise we have a problem.

As a nation, we are so terrified of the term suicide, that the problem is constantly being swept under the rug, and we sit idly by, hoping that by refusing to talk about it will make the problem disappear. The latest statistics prove this theory to be outrageously false. And when being proven wrong has such a devastating consequence, the game of wait and see is a game we must stop playing.

Ultimately every person has the ability to make their own choice, and we cannot feel guilt over another person’s decision. We must, however, accept responsibility. If any positive outcome is to arise from such a tragedy, let it be that we walk away, more aware of the problem, and determined to do our part to fix it.

It is far too easy, when approached, to cry attention seeking than to accept that a person can find themselves in such a dark point in their lives that they cannot focus on anything, but the pain they feel at that moment in time.

Admittedly, somewhere in the midst of covering up the issue and refusing to admit it exists, suicide has become somewhat a desirable subject to many. In a sense, it’s a little like your mothers liquor cabinet. It’s forbidden, so it must be good.

I, for one, will not forget and move on today. I ask of you all the same. The next time somebody comes knocking at your door, don’t automatically assume fraud. Of course, by shutting the door on them you may save yourself an hour. By inviting them in, however, there’s a small chance you may just save a life.