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Blogs > wickedeasy > wicked and that ain't so easy |
they shoot horses, don't they?
they shoot horses, don't they? in this world, there are so many people living lives of "quiet desperation". i know that i have been in the abyss a time or two. once i was lost there for a loner time than usual and a friend that i cherish was immensely helpful in slowly,inexorably leading me up and out. even a life that is full of "life" can sometimes lose that shine that makes us see it as worth living. my brother and i were talking the other day and we were discussing getting older. he said maybe i need a lover but i don't really want the fuss of a lover. and i knew what he meant. and yet we all want some magic. some reason to get up. so what if you knew that you had a limited time to live and that part of that time would be utterly painful, swept into darkness and the essence of you, that part that you consider your core, would no longer be there. i remember when my dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, i was reading everything i could on it. a woman who'd been diagnosed quite young said she'd set a bottle of poison on her mantle with a note tied to it, rather like alice in wonderland. the note read, when you can no longer remember why i am here, drink me. i am very good with pain. i can stand pain. that would never be a good reason for me. but i think losing my mind would be a good reason. at times, i've thought loneliness was a good enough reason, but for those i would leave behind i might have left gladly. i remember a party i attended for a very wonderful man. i'll call him dan. AIDS had eaten away most of his body and was working on his brain. he'd been a beautiful man and a powerhouse of a person. he was well known, well loved, and joyous in his life. before he lost the ability to think and became nothing more than a shell, he chose to say goodbye in his own way. oh what a party it was. with amazing food and a band and people dressed to the nines with poets and politicians and drag queens and dan in tails and a top hat. it went into the wee hours of the morning and we were all there when the police were called. over 200 people. i remember when my mother was dying....grabbing my hand and from the depth of her pain saying, make it stop...this is just wrong. i know what suicide can do to those left behind. i've seen the tortured families. but, if the end is inevitable, and the death will be horrible and the pain unbearable....is there any grace in that? i wonder. You cannot conceive the many without the one. |
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I figure we're all entitled to die in our own way, but if people are going to end it themselves, then they damn well better pick up there shit before they go. Donate their clothes, burn those 20 year old birthday cards from the kids, pass on the family heirlooms, select your plot, leave a will, maybe even send a few UPS packages to assholes you've met a long the way and fill them with dog crap. Cross all the i's and dot all the t's, cuz anything less than that would make it a selfish act. It's easy to end it, but cleaning all your shit before you leave isn't all that pleasant.
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When it's time, it's time and long suffering is needless when someone is ready.
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If I knew I had a limited time to live wherein I would be able to enjoy life before experiencing excruciating pain, I would make it my goal to see all of my friends and loved ones and make certain they knew they were loved--a party sounds like a great way to celebrate one's life and relationships! Never ignore those who care for you you will have lost diamonds while you were collecting stones
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Hm, from reading MzBonBon's comment, sounds like someone recently chose that route? I've had some dark thoughts along those lines lately. No, don't worry, I'm not considering it NOW, but having seen my mom go through dementia and some other friends with health problems - and being in the situation of not having any kids to look out for me and all of my sibs are older and will probably be gone before me - it sort of makes sense to just walk out of the picture instead of being a burden on my nieces and nephews. The scary thing about my mom's dementia was she didn't seem to realize she had it. It was really only the last few months of her life that she seemed to get an inkling that something was wrong with her head. The note on the poison bottle is kind of a genius idea, actually, if one could rely on it working.
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some pretty tough things to figure out in life, eh? thank goddess for love! Always tell the truth Use kind words Keep your promises Giggle and laugh Be positive Love one another Always be grateful Forgiveness is mandatory Try new things Say please and thank you Say your prayers Smile ~Author unknown
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We all have a limited amount of time, oui-oui... I don't worry about future unknowns; not anymore. Used to, though. Seems I have been spared that particular torture... by a merciful God who chose to let me off the hook and to take my place; and knowing that I will never have to try to remember what has already happened (past or future) gives me a sense of wellbeing that even a strategically positioned bottle of boop-juice could never supply. Ain't but one--possibly a fluke, as there is virtually no historic record of it but for some three lines in the Bible--ever got out of here, alive. NO; not Jesus. Even He had to die before being resurrected--and for very good reason, too. I've never really looked upon life as being particularly "worth living"... but more so as a holding pattern, if you will; a place of learning how not to cry over leaving it, when the time arrives. I know that most people--virtually all people--view my attitude as rather cynical and quite counterproductive. I know because they tell me so. But... barring such inventions as the coil-fed screw-gun, exactly how is productivity measured? The way I figure it, if God wants me dead, then I'm dead--if He don't, then I ain't. And so, time moves along and I do my best to learn how to be in this world... but not of this world. I ain't had much success of it, so far. I have, however, tried... and will continue to try. Perhaps I'll get a bit better at it as my departure, inexorably, draws nearer. I can tell you this--I have no strategically positioned vial for speeding up the process. And if I ever get to where I can't remember if I needed to place one, or not... it won't much matter, now... will it? As for others? Php 2:12 ...work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. Truer words were never spoken. Solar...
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(praying that Mr. Bene never finds himself unable to find a portapotty in time). But I love the sentiment. Thank you.
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"....a place of learning how not to cry over leaving it, when the time arrives." Well said, Solar. I'm gonna hold onto that one 'til something better comes along. It replaces, " You get called home the moment you figure out the meaning of life." Most people are other people... FUCKING CHARACTER LIMIT!!! ~Oscar Wilde
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For me, I'm pretty clear that if I'm faced with a prolonged death, I'd rather have a good time and say goodbye. I recently had to make a choice around this, and I choose quality of life. still am.
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As a society, we have this all wrong, yet there ARE caring health care professionals out there who have it all right. In the end, we all die. THAT is an incontrovertable fact, I must claim. When my mind is gone, I am gone. When my life is reduced to gasping for breath, or so pain filled that I am totally numbed to all to make that pain slightly less intense, I am gone too. I do hope, that when my time comes, IF it arrives in either of the above scenarios, I am connected to one of those caring and wise health care professionals.
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1/25/2012 1:50 pm |
Yes, I believe there are good deaths and not so good deaths. My sister died of early onset Alzheimer's and my Dad's got it too. There is no way I want that death, but there were things she did or said, long past her ability to remember who or why she was, that brought me immense joy. Her last sentence, between the incoherent noises and hallucinations were "I love you". It made me wonder what a "meaningful life" is. I have thought alot about taking my life if I get it, but the problem with suicide and alzheimer's, as you probably know, is when? The note on the vial of poison wouldn't have worked for my Dad because he would have called the police to ask who put this wierd note on his mantle. lol. He's almost completely gone now, but, again, the joy of life comes screaming through his body sometimes (he gave me the finger the other day with a big smile). So my certainty has been shattered once again by joy.
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1/30/2012 8:55 am |
Thanks M, you're a peach.
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