october.

in 2nd grade, my best friend and i planned our suicides. i don’t remember what exactly we planned to do, or even exactly why, but we talked about it a lot.

5 years ago, on halloween, my dad died of a drug overdose. i don’t know if it was on purpose or not, but… the way i’ve been thinking about it most recently is that he finished killing himself on that day. drugs and self-loathing were such a part of him, for as long as i can remember.

finally, for the first time, about a month ago, which was about a month after i had a “woah! maybe i’m not actually crazy!” realization, i finally thought, “woah! suicide is not necessarily an option.” for as long as i can remember, when things get bad, i’ve held hands with the idea that i could die if i really wanted. and finally finally i’m thinking, “or actually not.”

the last few octobers have been hard. particularly at the beginning of the month– i see the 31st at the end of it and i dread it. eventually, and actually well before the day, i make peace with it, and then on the 31st i’ve been more okay than i thought i would be. sometimes the 30th has been really hard.

this year, october has felt mostly okay. i was even thinking of dressing up. for logistical reasons, i think i’ve decided not to, at this point, but i’ve been actually weirdly excited about the day. but in the past day or so, it’s gone back to, “no, really? does it actually have to come this year? couldn’t it just pass? can’t i just sleep all day?”

i don’t know what the day will actually bring, but those were some of the things going on in me during meeting for worship today. and there was some ministry about death and lost people.

at some point, i clasped my hands and realized that my fingers are getting thicker. they’re harder to put around each other, which is strange. and my carpal tunnel was acting up a little. and i thought, “i am so much both of my parents.” my dad’s thick fingers, my mom’s sad wrists.

and i thought about how when i was first contemplating testosterone, i freaked out a lot about the concept of looking more and more like my broken, damaged, dead father. could i actually face that… face?

but really– and maybe it’s the effects of these hormones and maybe it’s growing up and maybe this gender really is a skin i’m comfortable with and maybe it’s the peace of quaker meeting– or maybe (probably) it’s a combination of all of those– and maybe it’s not permanent– i no longer terrify myself. and that’s pretty nice.

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. 1.

    I love reading posts like this from you.

    ::hugs::

    Comment by Kylie — October 21, 2007 @ 9:18 pm
    2.

    thanks!

    when i read this, i was touched, but also sort of puzzled. or… um… i can’t quite figure out if i like them… and then i thought of the insides of pumpkins, and the way that these sorts of posts are like ripping out the insides of a pumpkin, and i think what makes them extra uncomfortable is that they are the really grody slimy seeds, rather than the more appealing pumpkin shell…

    and THEN i remembered i’d been writing about halloween. *laughs*

    Comment by cublet — October 23, 2007 @ 6:25 pm

  2. cubbie, you are a beautiful person no matter what. I am sorry your dad committed suicide, I have no idea what that is to go through to lose someone that way. I used to want to kill myself in high school and I
    don’t know what it is about being upper-middle class and suburban with so much privilege and why it would drive a 17 year old to want to end her life. It’s so fucked up.

    At the age of 20 I went to Korea and my birthmom rejected me and so I didn’t get to meet her after all. And I was broken to my core, in a land that was foreign although I was born there, and the woman who gave birth to me was found but couldn’t see me, the person whose face I’d never known even though my face must’ve come from somewhere. In the pit of despair I saw two paths and I said “yes” to life, even though that was the one thing that I wanted more than anything, even though I was an atheist at the time. I don’t know what told me to say “yes” but I wish everybody had it. The grace of God within me is all I can come up with. Suicide is no longer an option for me either.


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