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Sunset Gun
Dec. 18th, 2003 05:54 pmMy Mom had a traumatic experience on the subway yesterday. She was waiting for the train at 86th street to go to her group therapy appointment, and as the train pulled into the station the young woman who was standing next to her on the platform threw herself onto the track. Mom was horrified. She said the woman wasn't killed right away, that she could hear her moaning in pain from underneath the haulted train.
It really shook Mom up. I don't think she's ever been that close to suicide, at least not knowingly. Didn't think it was the right time to tell her that, in some of my less than stable moments I'd considered the train option mainly because it's such an easy way to die. Decided against it because I'm not big on forceful impact. But...yeah, Mom was talking about what dire straits the girl must have been in to take such a drastic action. And she said it appeared very calculated: as the train approached the girl shrugged off her backpack, inched closer and closer tot he edge of the platform, and then just stepped off. To say the least, it was flustering to my mother. So when I got home she was all hugs and "I love you's."
Can't say I feel sorry for the girl. She's probably better off. I mean, I'm sure it sucked for her family, but she is in a happy state of oblivion now, so more power to her. Doctor's like to tell us that suicide is "A permanent solution to a temporary problem." I didn't know this girl and I have no idea what her problem was, but I'm willing to bet she was mad depressed and had been for some time. Sounds like she'd thought about this, been planning it even. And while depressive episodes may wax and wane, they never disappear. Temporary problem my ass. One of the first things they told me when I was diagnosed was that depression is an "incurable disease" that I would have to fend off for the duration of my life. A depressive cycle may end, and you'll be alright for months, even years, but there is always going to be another one after it. Always. That's what the word "chronic" denotes. It never ends, and it can just be too much for some people. It was too much for Kirk. He didn't want a life of constant battle, so he gave it up. I'll bet it was similar for the girl on the platform.
In other news I had a somewhat disturbing realization last night: I've been having dissociative episodes recently. Don't worry, I'm not turning into Sybil or anything, I've just noticed a distinct separation of mind from body. Let me see if I can explain it: I don't feel like I am in my body. Like right now, I know my hands are typing these words, and they are typing because I'm telling them to, but it doesn't feel like it's me doing it. It feels like my body is moving and I have nothing to do with it. And I've felt this way for several weeks, I just haven't thought anything of it. But it's becoming so intense that...it's starting to get scary. It's frightening to feel like I am here, but not in my body. It's like I'm standing far away from my body, all exposed, and there's nothing to protect me.
I've been trying to think of all the things that really allow me to be in my body. Physical exertion is one thing. Was always in my body when I was doing Tae Kwon Do. Walking doesn't always put me in my body, but I guess it's worth a try. Having regular physical contact with others always helps, ya know like hugging and tickling and stuff like that, but we all know how often I get that sort of affection. So...I dunno, guess I'll try to be more physically active, see if that works.
It really shook Mom up. I don't think she's ever been that close to suicide, at least not knowingly. Didn't think it was the right time to tell her that, in some of my less than stable moments I'd considered the train option mainly because it's such an easy way to die. Decided against it because I'm not big on forceful impact. But...yeah, Mom was talking about what dire straits the girl must have been in to take such a drastic action. And she said it appeared very calculated: as the train approached the girl shrugged off her backpack, inched closer and closer tot he edge of the platform, and then just stepped off. To say the least, it was flustering to my mother. So when I got home she was all hugs and "I love you's."
Can't say I feel sorry for the girl. She's probably better off. I mean, I'm sure it sucked for her family, but she is in a happy state of oblivion now, so more power to her. Doctor's like to tell us that suicide is "A permanent solution to a temporary problem." I didn't know this girl and I have no idea what her problem was, but I'm willing to bet she was mad depressed and had been for some time. Sounds like she'd thought about this, been planning it even. And while depressive episodes may wax and wane, they never disappear. Temporary problem my ass. One of the first things they told me when I was diagnosed was that depression is an "incurable disease" that I would have to fend off for the duration of my life. A depressive cycle may end, and you'll be alright for months, even years, but there is always going to be another one after it. Always. That's what the word "chronic" denotes. It never ends, and it can just be too much for some people. It was too much for Kirk. He didn't want a life of constant battle, so he gave it up. I'll bet it was similar for the girl on the platform.
In other news I had a somewhat disturbing realization last night: I've been having dissociative episodes recently. Don't worry, I'm not turning into Sybil or anything, I've just noticed a distinct separation of mind from body. Let me see if I can explain it: I don't feel like I am in my body. Like right now, I know my hands are typing these words, and they are typing because I'm telling them to, but it doesn't feel like it's me doing it. It feels like my body is moving and I have nothing to do with it. And I've felt this way for several weeks, I just haven't thought anything of it. But it's becoming so intense that...it's starting to get scary. It's frightening to feel like I am here, but not in my body. It's like I'm standing far away from my body, all exposed, and there's nothing to protect me.
I've been trying to think of all the things that really allow me to be in my body. Physical exertion is one thing. Was always in my body when I was doing Tae Kwon Do. Walking doesn't always put me in my body, but I guess it's worth a try. Having regular physical contact with others always helps, ya know like hugging and tickling and stuff like that, but we all know how often I get that sort of affection. So...I dunno, guess I'll try to be more physically active, see if that works.
