My heart is heavy tonight with feelings of inadequacy. I am NOT an adrenaline junkie; I don't seek out adventure or thrill and I pretty much retreat from conflict. I'm a peacemaker (as most middle-children are) and a centrist: I really try to see all sides of a story, and even then, I try to reserve judgement. I'm not always successful at this and sometimes I do argue when I'm very passionate about something, but most of the time I just try to keep my head down and fly under the radar. I have enough going on in my little life that I feel my opinion is just a drop in the ocean: meaningless to anyone outside of myself. It is my opinion, however, and if you are reading this you might find some value in what I have to say, despite the small and simple nature of my voice.
The death of Robin Williams has been weighing on me. I haven't really cried yet; maybe I'm still in denial. I do know that he was a beautiful man and a tremendous actor. I am very grateful for the wonderful movies and words and deeds he left behind, to help those millions of us who are in mourning. While his death is a tragedy, I am grateful for the dialogue it has opened. Many people are talking and writing about suicide. I am not here to say whether suicide is right or wrong, whether or not a person who does a lifetime of good deeds is damned for a single decision. That judgement belongs to our loving Father in Heaven, who understands the pain and suffering of every tormented soul. Personally, I believe He will err on the side of mercy and kindness; would that we were as kind to ourselves.
I also know that I am not the only person to have thought of suicide. Being a rational creature, and having had my heart torn apart with the loss of loved ones, I know I could never actually go through with it. I couldn't leave that burden to my family. But I have been desperate enough to pray for an accident, cancer, or something else that would allow me to escape with dignity and without causing pain to others. I even had myself convinced that I would never live past age 35 (I'll be 36 in January). Alas--I am still here.
Why am I still here? I wonder sometimes. I'm not going to change the world. I'm never going to be a fantastic mother or wife. I doubt I'll ever be famous (and I don't really want to be) or beautiful or thin or a "success story." So why should I continue to stick it out?
Some say that hope is the answer. Yes, hope is important. I hope that, in the end, our Heavenly Father sees someone who has tried--maybe not as hard as I possibly could, but tried nonetheless--to be a good person, to help others and show love and serve His children. I hope He leans toward the side of mercy over justice when I stand before Him one day; but I can't hang my hat on hope. The idea that something better will come along is not enough.
Obligation is a big part of why I'm still here. I signed up for this whole parenthood thing, and it is HARD. And I'm not very good at it. I'm far too selfish and I need time to myself, but I can't believe there is anyone on earth who loves my Benjamin as much as I do, and as long as he will let me, I will shower him with hugs and kisses every day. I may fail him completely and never see him as an independent adult; I may never understand what goes on in that brain of his, and I may never be as strong an Autism Advocate as I should be, but I'm trying. My best will never be enough, but dear Lord, I'm trying. I owe it to him to be around as long as I can.
I think the other reason why I haven't gone through with anything is because there is so much beauty in this world. I'm glad I can see it; I know some people cannot (or do not), and my heart breaks for them. The nature, the music, the architecture, the people . . . I have only seen and heard and felt a small part of what this earth has to offer, and there is so much more to experience. Rather than crossing things off, my bucket list keeps growing longer. I guess that is where my hope comes in--that I'll be able to travel and taste and see the wonders of this bountiful earth before I leave it.
So there's my little drop in the ocean. It may not mean much in the sea full of voices, but it is my voice, and my opinions are as valid as anyone else's. We need to love each other, help each other, and let God be the judge. Please, my friends: let's be kind to one another. We are all fighting hard battles, and we need each other's strength.
