Let me preface this post by assuring everyone/anyone that I’m not suicidal.
I have no intention of committing suicide or any other form of self harm.
Hundreds of thousands of women and children are kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery EVERY year. Every day, of every year. All over the world, women and children disappear from their homes. Most, never to return.
But amazingly, by all accounts those that are freed or escape, those that somehow manage to get away, actually sustain the will to live.
Despite all the misery, physical debasement and abject fear that they were exposed to, these survivors still fight to live. To escape, and build a new life with love and children and dreams and a resolution to stay alive.
I once heard the story about a young woman, abducted by Bosnian forces during the Bosnian conflict. She was held captive by a Bosnian officer in his quarters/tent and used as a sex slave. She was repeatedly raped, over and over. Every day. By the officer and his men. And on at least one occasion when the officer came back to the quarters too drunk to get an erection, he raped her with a spanner. A FUCKING spanner.
And yet, when she was found and rescued by UN forces she still wanted to live.
She wasn’t suicidal.
And when she discovered that she was pregnant to her rapist/s she didn’t try to abort the foetus or end her own life. She got on with life. She looked forward and built a new existence. Even if she had considered suicide, she didn’t do it. Incredible!
And I don’t understand how she, or anyone, could (or would want to) stay alive after this.
I have a disease that makes me want to be dead. Every day. I take my meds and I write and I talk to a professional and I keep in touch with my GP and I try to be social and I’m creative. But – it doesn’t change anything.
And it leaves me begging to ask . . . if those women and children can survive such carnage of the soul and STILL want to live, why would it be wrong for me to kill myself?
I have lived a blighted life, but nothing like the misery I’ve just talked about. Yet I want to die. And if I can’t find any peace or actual joy in life, compared to the desire of others to live, why should I continue to exist? At the most I will only live 90 years on this Earth. Which compared with anything: the age of the Universe; the age of the Earth; the age of Humanity, is infinitesimal.
I will not make a ‘mark’ on Human existence. My efforts will not be remembered. I will not affect the well-being of anyone. I am not a mother and I have no family, so what possible argument is there for me to stay alive?
How can my wish to die, not be valid?