Asked via formspring.me/iamgarrett :
What do you think happens to people who commit suicide when they die? Kinda need closure on this.
- Anonymous
To be honest, I've been rather afraid of answering this question, due to the final statement of "kinda need closure on this." There are two potential reasons for this statement, each of which make me fear for the affect of my answer improperly framed. Out of ignorance of you or your situation, and in recognition that someone else of either situation might read this, I will address both reasons for such a statement before answering the question.
If you need closure because you've been contemplating suicide, please please please take a step back from the ledge. A prevailing message over the last few weeks to the youth of today is that "it gets better" - and it's been a message for a reason. It is the truth. There are few things I ever actively scold adults for saying; one of those things is when I hear "High school is the best years of your life." Ha! When we stay true to our selves, and support our higher self, life truly does get better. Hell, even if we don't life still gets better by your mid-twenties. Even if it is not circumstance, but rather a heavy inexplicable melancholy you find weighing upon you, know that this too will pass. And don't discount a good therapist or minister, etc. either - there's a lot of crappy ones out there, but life has been personally and profoundly affected by one good therapist, and I am a strong advocate of professional assistance when things get dire. Even beyond the tragedy of death itself, and beyond the tragedy of suicide, I find one of the most troubling things about suicide is this: to possess the capacity to actually violate one's animal urge for survival and contemplate suicide is a sign of veritable intellectual and emotional depth - and people with that sort of depth are precisely the sort of people we need to keep on living in this world.
If, on the other hand, you need closure because someone close to you has taken their own life, I offer my sincerest condolences (as useless as they may be). It is never easy to lose a loved one; it is even harder when that individual takes their own life. Grief melds with (causeless) guilt, and the ensuing pain is only embittered further with the question of life after death. I encourage you to remember the good times, the happy days, and celebrate the life your loved one lived. Take your love for that individual and share it with others, such that the world may be lifted up a notch. Know that if nothing else, they continue to live in your heart, and though this does not erase the sense of tragedy and is but a sliver of light, sometimes that sliver will be just what you need. And with time, that sliver can grow even brighter.
That being said, it is my personal obligation to answer the question at hand, which is essentially what happens to us after we die. This is actually one of those things about which I am most uncertain. I don't believe in a physical heaven or hell, and reincarnation as commonly understood seems to me to be more a product of vanity than anything else. If it wasn't for the near death experiences and "ghost" encounters I have heard of from close and trusted individuals, I would likely believe that there is no form of individual continuation after death. Regardless, I still believe that any form of ourselves continuing beyond physical death has little to do with our self as we know it. I believe in a body-mind-spirit both in humanity and the universe/god. The three are separate, yet connected. The self that I am, Garrett, is a combination of these three, and when my body dies these will become separated. The me that I am will only have this lifetime, and any form of myself that may continue will not have the same identity or consciousness that I currently possess in life. Of this much I am certain. What this means to be in contemplation of my eventual death is this: when I die, that is it - whatever I lived, however I felt will in that moment be made eternal and immutable. In my darkest moments, when I myself have stood on the brink of suicide, it has been the knowledge that doing so would not end my misery but rather cement it that has aided me in stepping back. And considering how joyous my life has become, despite my once thinking such joy an impossibility, I am damned glad that I have stepped back from that ledge.
If you need closure because you've been contemplating suicide, please please please take a step back from the ledge. A prevailing message over the last few weeks to the youth of today is that "it gets better" - and it's been a message for a reason. It is the truth. There are few things I ever actively scold adults for saying; one of those things is when I hear "High school is the best years of your life." Ha! When we stay true to our selves, and support our higher self, life truly does get better. Hell, even if we don't life still gets better by your mid-twenties. Even if it is not circumstance, but rather a heavy inexplicable melancholy you find weighing upon you, know that this too will pass. And don't discount a good therapist or minister, etc. either - there's a lot of crappy ones out there, but life has been personally and profoundly affected by one good therapist, and I am a strong advocate of professional assistance when things get dire. Even beyond the tragedy of death itself, and beyond the tragedy of suicide, I find one of the most troubling things about suicide is this: to possess the capacity to actually violate one's animal urge for survival and contemplate suicide is a sign of veritable intellectual and emotional depth - and people with that sort of depth are precisely the sort of people we need to keep on living in this world.
If, on the other hand, you need closure because someone close to you has taken their own life, I offer my sincerest condolences (as useless as they may be). It is never easy to lose a loved one; it is even harder when that individual takes their own life. Grief melds with (causeless) guilt, and the ensuing pain is only embittered further with the question of life after death. I encourage you to remember the good times, the happy days, and celebrate the life your loved one lived. Take your love for that individual and share it with others, such that the world may be lifted up a notch. Know that if nothing else, they continue to live in your heart, and though this does not erase the sense of tragedy and is but a sliver of light, sometimes that sliver will be just what you need. And with time, that sliver can grow even brighter.
That being said, it is my personal obligation to answer the question at hand, which is essentially what happens to us after we die. This is actually one of those things about which I am most uncertain. I don't believe in a physical heaven or hell, and reincarnation as commonly understood seems to me to be more a product of vanity than anything else. If it wasn't for the near death experiences and "ghost" encounters I have heard of from close and trusted individuals, I would likely believe that there is no form of individual continuation after death. Regardless, I still believe that any form of ourselves continuing beyond physical death has little to do with our self as we know it. I believe in a body-mind-spirit both in humanity and the universe/god. The three are separate, yet connected. The self that I am, Garrett, is a combination of these three, and when my body dies these will become separated. The me that I am will only have this lifetime, and any form of myself that may continue will not have the same identity or consciousness that I currently possess in life. Of this much I am certain. What this means to be in contemplation of my eventual death is this: when I die, that is it - whatever I lived, however I felt will in that moment be made eternal and immutable. In my darkest moments, when I myself have stood on the brink of suicide, it has been the knowledge that doing so would not end my misery but rather cement it that has aided me in stepping back. And considering how joyous my life has become, despite my once thinking such joy an impossibility, I am damned glad that I have stepped back from that ledge.
