I am a guy. I narrowly avoided suicide around 18. I should first note that I'm doing much better these days.
If there is anything scarier than attempting suicide, it would be the thought of surviving it. Permanent disfigurement, crippling, or chronic pain would only make life all the worse - and a second attempt would be made all the harder by well meaning family, police, and doctors. One thinks to be thorough, or to not try at all.
Scarier than keeping quiet about your demons, is the thought of being forced to confront them. You don't want to talk and dwell on such a depressing subject, when depression is the very thing you're trying to run from. Outward silence mirrors a desperate attempt to achieve inner silence.
Manly ideals such as the ability to shoulder burden, and self reliance, can worsen the problem. Why share such deeply personal problems, if you think others can't help you with them? After all, if even you yourself can't lick the problem - you who surely best knows yourself - what chance do others have? You'll only depress others. You'll only depress yourself further.
.
I survived the peak of my first depression thanks to a fear of hell. The second, by knowing my ex still cared about me, even if she did not still care to be with me. I couldn't be that selfish.
A decade later, and long walks are for exercise and a break - not an excuse to cross tall bridges. I fight the good fight: I try to exercise. To eat well. To sleeping well and fully. To socialize regularly. To enjoy the sun. To enjoy nature. To eliminate stress. I have a career. I rarely crunch.
Medication would probably help. I'd still like a meaning to life. Maybe Love, again, but love is hard work - and even after all this time, is it prudent to risk a third heartbreak? I'm better now, and take care of myself better, but in doing so I've also learned a healthy amount of selfishness...
.
It's 7AM, and I should sleep. Back to silence. I will sleep well, and wake refreshed tomorrow. Be kind to and take care of each other, and do the same for yourselves. Make friends instead of enemies, even if that means funny hobbies instead of important politics sometimes. Smile, laugh, and try to share the joys of life. They may not always shine as brightly, but it's easier to find your way towards life if the path is at least lit.
I'll never match my grandfather's income. That's fine.
I didn't understand the need to be frugal, when I was young, because of this. But dealing with my own money and my own jobs, gave me hands on experience with the value of being frugal. This went well with their sharing of their own experiences - the value they got out of being frugal.
The lessons sunk in well. It's not just "savings are good" and a list of abstract rationalizations - savings feel good because I absolutely get it why they're good to me even this moment.
Understanding my grandfather's wealth taught me other important things beyond frugality, however:
I was able to learn from my grandfather's success about managing money - the value of compound interest, savings, calm and diverse long term investments. The dangers of panicked short term day trading.
I was able to learn from my extended family's failures with managing money - putting all their eggs in one basket, throwing good money after the bad, the disadvantages of lending to family - really underscoring what these mistakes can inflict on people, losing more money than I'll ever earn.
All the frugality in the world won't secure one's financial future if you can't resist shoving a retirement fund all in on the housing market. Or into a tech bubble. Or any number of baskets you couldn't see were going to come to an end eventually.
If there is anything scarier than attempting suicide, it would be the thought of surviving it. Permanent disfigurement, crippling, or chronic pain would only make life all the worse - and a second attempt would be made all the harder by well meaning family, police, and doctors. One thinks to be thorough, or to not try at all.
Scarier than keeping quiet about your demons, is the thought of being forced to confront them. You don't want to talk and dwell on such a depressing subject, when depression is the very thing you're trying to run from. Outward silence mirrors a desperate attempt to achieve inner silence.
Manly ideals such as the ability to shoulder burden, and self reliance, can worsen the problem. Why share such deeply personal problems, if you think others can't help you with them? After all, if even you yourself can't lick the problem - you who surely best knows yourself - what chance do others have? You'll only depress others. You'll only depress yourself further.
.
I survived the peak of my first depression thanks to a fear of hell. The second, by knowing my ex still cared about me, even if she did not still care to be with me. I couldn't be that selfish.
A decade later, and long walks are for exercise and a break - not an excuse to cross tall bridges. I fight the good fight: I try to exercise. To eat well. To sleeping well and fully. To socialize regularly. To enjoy the sun. To enjoy nature. To eliminate stress. I have a career. I rarely crunch.
Medication would probably help. I'd still like a meaning to life. Maybe Love, again, but love is hard work - and even after all this time, is it prudent to risk a third heartbreak? I'm better now, and take care of myself better, but in doing so I've also learned a healthy amount of selfishness...
.
It's 7AM, and I should sleep. Back to silence. I will sleep well, and wake refreshed tomorrow. Be kind to and take care of each other, and do the same for yourselves. Make friends instead of enemies, even if that means funny hobbies instead of important politics sometimes. Smile, laugh, and try to share the joys of life. They may not always shine as brightly, but it's easier to find your way towards life if the path is at least lit.