Controversial but relevant...

I usually avoid speaking of death. My attitude about speaking of it is decidedly Jewish, I've come to realize. Speak well of the dead, and don't tempt fate by speaking of someone's impending doom. However this morning, compelled by death in the news (former president Reagan), as well as this article which I just read... I'm feeling in quite the mood to discuss.

So, where to begin: the article is about suicide. I remember as a teen, my mom was always concerned that because my brother and I were so quiet about things that caused us pain... that we were suicidal. That couldn't have been farther from the truth! We were just intensely private about the pain we endured whilst growing up. I hated high school and felt in my element when I got out and into college. Never again would I let someone's opinions of my popularity effect my performance, social life, etc. Life is something which I love to do, and I feel it can always be improved upon.

About a two years ago, when S.T.B.E. and I began having the "irreparable" problems in our marriage -- the ones from which we never recovered -- I had an attitude shift. First, it came in the form of worry. He never called, but was often late getting home from work. I never knew what he was up to, but it was usually going to a sporting goods store and spending money that we didn't really have on fishing crap that he certainly didn't need. Formerly I would worry that he was lying in a ditch somewhere and it made me sick to think of him never coming home again. Yes, I know this part is sick, but I started to become disappointed when he would pull into the driveway. There was a night when he did not come home from work.. he went drinking with his friends and by the time I left for work at 3 AM, he was still not home. He called me on my way to work, completely soused. I was worried sick as given by my frantic phone calls to a friend, that he might be dead or something. But alas, he was not: he drove completely shit-faced drunk, home, telling me that the reason he had to get so drunk was that he could not express his feelings to me, but he could to his friends, when he was drunk. They, apparently, understood him. That night, and every night that he came home late thereafter... I began hoping that he was lying in a ditch somewhere.

The worse things got in the marriage, the more controlling he became and the more negative I was about my future.. I started mentally going through a litany of reasons that I needed to leave him. Nothing ever seemed good enough. Not a single reason. The pressure became enormous, and I was so miserable that suddenly I looked at the possibility of me stepping out of my life to get rid of the pain.

I never even tried to hurt myself... but for a few long weeks last summer, that seemed like it might have been a plausable solution. There was so much pressure and I was so eternally sad and hurt by the marriage and there seemed to be no hope for the future. I was suffering. Sometimes even now, I wish that I would be able to step out of the pain of my life. But the deeper I get into working through it... the more I see that I will be better off in the long run, to work through it, become stronger, and be more positive on the other side.

Working through the awfulness and pain associated with the unwanted loss of my spouse (recall that I did everything I could, for as long as I could, to make it work... until he forced my hand otherwise) has been the hardest damn thing I've ever done. Compared to this... an M.S. in Industrial Engineering will be somewhat of a labourious cake-walk. But if this makes me a more stable, more well-adjusted person in the end... then I'm all for it.

As always, I have to thank God for my wonderful life. I'm sure it's wonderful, because I have all of the trappings of a good life. Stuff, friends (and some unexpected new friends!) and even a good buddy rooting me on and supporting me in everything I do.... a buddy that even now, I am not sure I would stop falling for, if I wanted to. Mega-sigh.

Good life. Great Price. Wal-Mart.

ROTFLMAO!