Happy Face 3

I forgot to mention a couple of things in yesterday's post, Gentle Reader. This has to do with the agonizing process I was going through last week, Boxing Day, when I was walking over the Granville Bridge, and challenging myself to not jump, but that I had to go on living. True enough, I did not want to give my father, nor any other person who had harmed me the satisfaction that they could destroy me. I also had to concede that the kind of violence I might have done to myself, was what I wouldn't have imagined doing to another human being )not even to the Dump squatting in the White house, nor to an animal, though there have been some vicious dogs I might have momentarily wanted to put out of their misery. But if i was not bout to commit an act of violence against another living being, then by the same token, neither would I do this to myself. But there was another consideration. To every act of suicide, there is a fallout, and people are going to be impacted. This includes actual friends. Even if at the moment, I didn't believe that I had any, and seriously, Gentle reader, I still have my doubts. But those who are closer to me would have been traumatized by my suicide, even if they didn't particularly like me. As would my coworkers, my housing providers, my clients, my neighbours, and my friends overseas in Latin America, who would have no way of knowing what happened to me. There would also be the nuisance, distasteful labour and trauma inflicted passively on first responders, and others charged with cleaning up the mess of my dead body, not to mention what to do with all the original art I would have left behind. It would be a supremely selfish act, destroying myself, and as tempting as it was, given the evident low value that others seem to place on my life, I am not going to give them the lie. I am not going to give them the satisfaction of actually believing that they could convince me that I am worth nothing. There is also this blog to consider, and whatever prophetic voice for protest, change and social activism that I can offer, even if no one appears interested in hearing or reading the rants of a white trash Cassandra or a low income Jeremiah. I did have a conversation yesterday with someone from church who was helping me debrief. It was suggested that I wasn't necessarily faking it when I determined, at the depth of my misery, that I would continue to smile and greet others in a friendly way, but that I was summoning forth a tiny grain of joy from within, that was still there and needed only to be fanned to life. Nice thought and, for politeness' sake, I agreed. But that really wasn't it. Rather, I felt motivated by a sense of loving concern for people around me. I did not want to make them miserable with my dark mood. There was not even a single grain of joy there. I have another idea of what was happening, regardless of how I am feeling, I can still summon forth the will to love. When that happens, there is something about such acts of care for others, no matter how painfully grasped, nor desperate and tiny, that summons forth a bit of joy. It is love that produces joy. Not vice-versa. Love is God in action, because God is love. I mentioned yesterday to one of my supervisors how, when I'm feeling my worse, I can still work well with my clients. This made sense to him, who mentioned that it is the human contact. There is something about our touching one another's lives that makes us fully human. Isolating others, especially during such times as Christmas, is incredibly cruel, and I really have come to doubt the friendship of people I ordinarily have coffee with throughout the year, whom, knowing that I have to fend for myself, just leave me hanging and emotionally desperate, without offering me so much as a consoling phone call or email. I really doubt that those people are my friends. I don't even know why I continue staying in touch with people like that. In the meantime, we really have to work harder at taking care of one another. It is also helpful to remember that those who smile the most often are hurting the worst, and they need our care and attention, often more than others. More tomorrow, Gentle Reader.