Choosing life

In light of the most recent Glee episode -- which, by the way, I made the mistake of watching at the gym this morning, struggling not to fall off the treadmill and bawl my eyes out -- I'd like to talk about something that is very important to me and incredibly heart-wrenching:

Teenage suicide.

Depression.

Suicide in general.

Now this is heavy stuff, so prepare yourselves.

Depression and suicide is too often brushed off by those who don't go through it, and even by those who have. When in a clean, upbeat frame of mind, it is incredibly difficult to imagine someone in the headspace where the only light at the end of the tunnel is the end of the tunnel itself. Even now, when I'm past some of the most difficult moments of my life do I struggle with the belief that at one point I too was there.

Not to the extent that Dave Karovsky of Glee was. Rest assured, all, no attempts were ever made. But still, the thought was there. The thought was strong enough that I visited several therapists in my late high school, through a lot of college years. Unfortunately with mixed results as well.

After a while, you figure out what works for you and what your triggers are, but until that point, you can be thrown into that pit of unending dread, shame, despair and self-loathing at the drop of a hat. Something as benign as someone disagreeing with your choice of color for a poster can do it -- or something as earthshattering as the boy you thought you were so in love with turning to some other girl in a matter of weeks.

It doesn't matter what your triggers are, the point is its a terrible thing to happen to anyone.

When Principal Figgins tells Emma, "It wasn't our responsibility to see this coming," and she so poignantly asks, "If it's not our responsibility, whose was it?" I agreed wholeheartedly. However, its not always something you can see coming. It's very easy to connect the dots afterwards, but leading up to it, its nearly impossible. Especially if the person going through the depression and thoughts of ending one's life doesn't want anyone to know. Or doesn't have the strength of life to ask for help.

Because that's hard to do.

Asking for help that is.

If I could tell you how many times someone told me, "Just think of the blessings in your life/just think of how lucky you are," I wouldn't even have a number for it.

And let me tell you something, as good, sound advice goes, that's pretty good stuff, but for someone caught in the deadly, cyclical snare it's a needle with an air bubble straight to the bloodstream. I know that sounds graphic, but its true. An air bubble won't kill you til it hits your heart, and there's not a true timing for when it will, but its a ticking time-bomb, the end is in sight.

Telling that to someone who is hating his or her life or being tormented out of their minds by peers, teachers, family -- whether its knowingly or unknown to the tormentors -- telling someone that is one of the worst things you can do. Not to all cases, because I'm sure someone came up with that psychobabble somehow. But undoubtedly, that person knows how blessed they are. How lucky they are. And being told that cycles back into the self-loathing by becoming not "look how good I've got it" but "I have it so good and I don't deserve it because I can't appreciate it so why should I have it I shouldn't even be here if I'm not here someone else would get it."

I guess what I'm trying to say to those of you who are there is what those of us who have been there already know. It will pass. Consider your life behind rose-colored glasses when you are peaceful enough to do so. When you are not, find something, someone that is able to distract you from the horror at hand. Don't think about how good you have it, focus on how to stop the cycle.

If it's calling your dad at two a.m., do so.

If it's turning off your phone all together and finger painting, do that.

If it's hopping on the treadmill or sprinting your heart out at the track, tie on your running shoes.

If it's calling a friend, saying you just need to hang out, that's what you need to do.

If it's crying into your pillow, that's less productive, but get it out of your system before it eats you alive and then go distract yourself.

There is simply so much in life that you will miss out on. That those kids who kill themselves because their torment is just too great will miss out on. While life can feel like a pointless rat race to the most stable of us on our best days, there are still so many experiences that make it worth continuing on.

I don't know how coherent this is, nor do I care. The point is, this shit happens, it is everyone's responsibility to see that it doesn't, and if you can't understand the whys, don't try, just be a support to those who need it. It's not meant for us to understand, because there will always be an underlying picture, it is merely meant for us to be. To live, to experience, and to grow.

Life will always be worth it.

Even if in our darkest moments it doesn't feel like it.