Do or die...

Sadly, one of my dearest friends just had to be hospitalized after combining drugs and alcohol. Probably something I would have done way back when if I had had enough of any kind of serious drugs. I had no access to a gun, and the thought of slitting my wrists makes me queasy. I have a hard time having my finger pricked. However, I knew firsthand the kind of accident that could occur if I were to run my car headfirst into an oncoming 18-wheeler. I planned it, mapped it, found the perfect spot on the highway. Even did a few drive-throughs to make sure. Thankfully, I finally looked at the cab. Saw the driver. Realized that I was going to hurt someone other than myself. And I knew that it was no longer an option. Which kinda left me with no options.

I know now that had I been very seriously considering the act, I would have found a way. I'd like to think that it was because I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I doubt that I'm that noble. Maybe I was a coward, but I was enduring emotional pain that was so intense that I wasn't really living anyway. It's hard to think or talk about what I was going to do, but it was my truth at the time.

Or since I didn't carry through, was it really my truth?

"The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple."--Oscar Wilde

(Image shown is a portion of a necklace found at VenusFlytrapJewels at Etsy. It contains a charm with photos related to mental health as well as a small bottle of pills. In black and white, no less.)

Speaking of...

Immediately after publishing the previous post, I saw a news headline that shocked me. One of the greatest and most controversial designers ever, Alexander McQueen, was found dead today. The media are reporting his death as a suicide.

Tim Blanks of Style.com had this to say:

He was "an arch romantic with a pessimistic streak. It produced some of the most beautiful, shocking images in the history of fashion, but it’s a state of mind that can lead to endless disappointments. The death of McQueen’s mother last week would have validated his pessimism. It would undoubtedly have taken away his most vital support. It’s awful to imagine him trying—and failing—to cope, and one can only hope that, if he was looking for peace, he found it."

What makes the soul of an artist so tortured?

The image used in this post is from McQueen's 2001 Spring show at Style.com. On the runway was a cube which represented a mental hospital holding cell. The models were dressed in designs that gave the impression of insanity and dementia.

Falling...

Pain and heartache have been with me for as long as I can remember. Not physical pain, emotional pain. There were times when I thought I would die from it. Too many disappointments and failures piled up over a lifetime. Now I am here in The Place, and something has died. A part of me. Something that defined me in a certain way. Does that death constitute a failure? I'm told it is a natural thing, certainly an expected thing. Why has it been something with which I was not prepared to deal? Too much left unsaid by those who should have told me. Too many circumstances that brought this too early. It has created its own pain and heartache, and along with what was already there, I fell. I think I am probably still falling. Alice says not to worry, that there will be a stopping point. Is real life like dreams? Will I die when I hit the ground?

(Image used in this post is by DarklingWoods at Etsy and is entitled "Down the Rabbit Hole, Falling.")