"What a wonder life I've had! I only wish I'd realized it sooner." Colette

Mar 27, 2019

Life is a Lottery

If the Hope Diamond suddenly dropped into my lap, how would that change my life at this moment?  I’d still have pounds to lose; BC would still be happily munching on her chew; and we’d be just as dry, now that I fixed the leak in the roof.  A Mercedes in the driveway?  I’ve got a luxury car, and it’s only 15 years young.

“You should be happy,” Uncle Julian told me last week on the phone.

Why?   I’m…satisfied.  I may not be happy, but satisfied is much better than depressed.”

He agreed with me there.  Aunt Cathy has been gone just over a year and after so many decades of marriage, he’s still dealing with the grief, of course.

“Don’t listen to, It’s been long enough," I advised.  "Anyone who says that has not experienced a loss of this kind.”
  

After Tino died, my supervisor kindly referred me to her doctor, who immediately prescribed anti-depressants.  After 6 months, when they still weren’t working, he said those very words to me, adding, “Get over it.”

Get over it?  “Doctor, have you ever lost someone close?”

“No…but my wife lost her dog and I saw how upset she was.”


He handed me a prescription for barbiturates and sent me home.  Which directly contributed to my suicide attempt 24 years ago, but that’s  another story. Why am I writing about this now?

Because I just (metaphorically) surfaced after battling depression for over a week.  Doesn’t matter what triggered it; but hard as I tried I couldn’t stop the domino effect this time.  In the darkness I ached to talk to Mom, but I knew she’d say something about putting my hand in God’s.

“That’s not what I need, Mom,” but what did I need?  TIME, I knew from long experience.  And Faith, not only with a capitol F:  faith in my own devices; faith that I’ll remember what’s really important; faith that this, too, shall pass, and it has, finally, gratefully.  Thank God I've got BC.

Why didn’t you call someone?  Why?  Everyone’s got their own troubles; and because I’ve not shared my long buried-but not forgotten-demons with anyone other than (alter-Ego-) Amy, I’m not up to explaining the backstory.  Besides, people get bored.

“Get over it.”  What that really means is, “I can’t listen anymore.”

Plus, I don't want to alarm anyone.  Half the people I know would automatically fear I’d try suicide again and focus on that instead of my words; despite my learned-the-hard-way assurances that God’s keeping me alive until I’m at least 100, just to piss me off.  If I try anything else, I’ll just screw it up and make my life miserable again.  Satisfied is just fine for now, thanks, Uncle J.

The recent news about victims of school shootings committing suicide should alarm us.  What scares me is that folks on the edge watch the publicity surrounding one particular suicide and are reminded that other people made their pain go away in a moment.



Trust me, it doesn’t always work.  I don’t know the statistics, but you can bet there are countless more botched suicide attempts than there are successful ones; yet still, we are shown attractive young people experiencing life’s tragedies while clever words of grief are spun in the background.

There’s a certain Romeo and Juliet quality about these broadcasts – and young people are so impressionable.  Equal air time should be given to those on life-support, draining the lives (and finances) of those they love.

So my advice today: STOP SENSATIONALIZING AND START SHARING!

Think I’ll go check my lottery ticket.

FIN

Photo notes:  Years ago Yahoo had a Contributor Network, and I had several pieces published; one of which was a fictional story based around my collection of old timepieces, called, “Five Broken Watches.” Yahoo ended the program and the stories are who-knows-where, but my point is while I was writing, I tried to obtain permission to include an image of Salvador Dali’s, Persistence of Memory, with my story.  Because it was Yahoo, all legalities needed to be triple-checked.

Yes, I could, thanks to the Dali foundation-whatever, for $1200.   No thanks; I’ll paint my own, I wrote back.  It was cheaper.  Time will tell if they object to this image.

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