I intentionally posted my last diary late Saturday night or early Sunday morning, depending on your perspective. There were many reasons behind the decision to post at the time and day that I did. First, it wasn't really a diary, more of me venting some emotion based on the subject matter. My friend had committed suicide and I was upset.
I didn't really want a lot of sympathy views and didn't really wish to distract anyone with my sadness. I didn't want to push other good diaries off the list with what was little more than me trying to organize the thoughts in my head. I had gathered together a group of mutual friends earlier in the evening, but after we went our separate ways, I still felt like I needed something.
I'm glad that Daily Kos was here and that my exercise in grief therapy succeeded somewhat. I did feel better and I know that it was a combination of the gathering of friends, and one small post here. This community is very compassionate, and I'd like to thank everyone here for allowing people to do what I did the other night.
Now that my emotions aren't as close to the surface, I thought it may be helpful to write a more proper diary. This is just my effort to further get a grasp of my thoughts and feelings, but it may also help someone else who finds themselves in a similar situation.
I should start by saying that I am fortunate enough to know a mental health professional. My brother moved back to the street that we grew up on and a neighbor is a Psychiatrist. I was lucky to sit and talk with this old friend of the family yesterday, and it helped tremendously. Not everyone is able to do this, especially for free, but for anyone struggling with grief, I would recommend it.
Everyone deals with things differently, but so far, I feel that I've been dealing with my friend's suicide in a relatively healthy way. Simply by writing this, and the short little thing the other night, it all goes a long way toward the healing process. By not holding things inside and letting them fester, I can hopefully come close to the final stage of grieving. Acceptance.
I know I'll never fully accept it, but maybe I can not be as angry and guilt ridden as I've been. I haven't been able to figure out who I'm more angry at, my friend for not talking to anyone, or me for not seeing his impending doom. We had not hung out for about a week, but I didn't see anything that would indicate that he was despondent to the point of suicide. I also don't know if he did talk to someone or not, I do know that he didn't talk to me, so I'm feeling guilty about that. I will never know or understand what happened, so I know I'll never fully accept it.
I wish we had been in closer contact than we were over the past couple of months, but our schedules would not sync. The last time I saw him was Friday the 16th, we watched the Flyers game together and had our usual good time. I didn't notice anything that struck me as odd, no outward signs of depression or anxiety, nothing that I felt was out of the ordinary. Maybe if our team had lost the game, I might have noticed something different in him.
I have noticed that my friends and I are in almost constant contact over the last few days, all of us worried about each other. I live alone, so they all seem inordinately concerned about me, but I appreciate it. I think they are looking for some kind of signal that I'm not coping. I explained to them about talking to my old neighbor and even that I was writing this. That seems to have minimized any apprehension they are having about me.
I chose the title of this for a couple of reasons. One, I would not be allowed to title it, "You goddamn motherfucker, why the fuck didn't you talk to me instead of killing yourself. You fucking douchebag.". B.), I know that my friend would have laughed his ass off if he knew I had written something about suicide, with a Hanna Barbara™ character's tag line. Especially the one that I did choose, it felt apropos.
My friend was a funny sombitch, he could make anyone laugh, no matter how down you were. We shared a very similar sense of humor, just different enough to crack each other up constantly. That sometimes pissed our friends off, but we were the clowns. I know we'll all miss that whenever we get together, especially me. Sometimes he was the only one to get my jokes, and I know he wasn't just faking it to make me feel good. He would come back with a perfect deadpan response that only I would get, he understood.
He was a good guy, the kind that everyone likes. I can't think of anyone that I introduced him to, that didn't take an instant shine to him. He was that kind of person, kind, caring, generous to a fault. He'd give you the shirt off of his back if you asked him for it. He was a loyal friend, the kind of friend you wish all your friends to be. I wish that I had met him sooner, known him longer, but I'll have to be satisfied that he was in my life at all.
I should end this by letting anyone reading this know, if you are ever in a similar situation, talk to someone. I mean that from either side of the equation. If you feel like killing yourself, please seek out someone to talk to. A friend, family member, a professional, a suicide hot line, anything. Don't feel alone, you are not alone.
If you are grieving, the same applies. Talk to someone, anyone. If you don't, or can't talk to anyone, write your feelings down, get them out. You don't have to post them online, but trust me, it helps to get it out. Thanks again to this community for allowing this kind of thing and not requiring that only politics be permitted.
I usually stay with a diary after I post it, and comment, but I apologize in advance if I'm not with it. The last piece of advice I can give is distract yourself from your grief, if only for a while. I'm going to watch the N.H.L. Playoffs and try to not think of my friend, even though that will be hard as hockey reminds me of him. Maybe he's watching with me.