I Can't Hug Every Suicidal Cat

Song of the Day: Call and Answer by Barenaked Ladies

Welp, I've only missed one day of BEDA so far so I might as well attempt to keep up with the rest of it.

I just wrote three paragraphs on why people write and then deleted it. It didn't feel like I was contributing anything, and that is a very unpleasant(ly familiar) thought. The only reason people do anything is to feel like they've made a difference one way or another. If we matter to ourselves, we feel like we matter to other people. We've got this weird idea that if we're not doing huge monumental things, we don't "matter." Well guess what? If you know someone, you matter.

I know it's a touchy subject, but this is sort of why suicide makes my brain go in circles. One of my best friends was considering it at one point, even attempted it (I didn't find out until after the fact). And when I did find out, it was so hard not to be angry. I know she was sad and that some things in her head were severely wrong (and that's exactly what kept me from being angry), but what I couldn't understand was that she forgot that she mattered to people. Wherever her mind was, it wasn't remembering me or her parents or her little sister, and how all of us would have been permanently fucked up had she succeeded. I know that's why people tend to say suicide is a selfish act; and it is, for someone in a healthy mental state. Thing is, someone who wants to kill themselves is not, for whatever reason, healthy.

It's so disgustingly selfish for me to sit here and think about how it would have affected ME if she had died, and I have no defense for that. But I won't pretend I wouldn't be irrevocably broken if someone I loved that much wanted to leave me. Because that's what it was...some part of her was saying, "You want to get out of here, and the people who love you aren't enough." It was lying, but it was saying it just the same.

The thing was, I had no idea. None at all. It's made me paranoid ever since. Not just with her behavior, but with everyone's. I can't be genuinely or intentionally mean to people because the voice in the back of my head is saying, "Don't be the tipping point."

Maybe what frustrated me was that I couldn't have done anything for her even if I'd known. I was already there for her, I already told her I loved her. I know my presence wasn't the problem, in fact she told me it's part of what kept her even a little bit sane. Okay, so that's one. What about the others? I can't find all of the sad people and tell them it will be okay. And why do I feel like it falls to me in the first place? ("I can't hug every cat!") I can't fully empathize. I've barely even been depressed; at least not severely and not for a prolonged period of time. Just a time when there was no area between Laughing and Sad. Just the two. And the laughter happened less.

I'm all for sadness and anger and all that, because without those you can't appreciate happiness. But, when all is said and done, I just really want everyone to be okay.

You are not alone in this / As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand / hold your hand / ... / But I can't move the mountains for you. -Timshel, Mumford & Sons