* * * * * sensitive subject matter | reader discretion advised * * * * *
Part I:
S is for suicide.
Contemplated suicide for more than half my life.
Intention,
not to end life.
But rather,
to end suffering.
Suffering.
Overwhelming.
Suffocating.
Drowning.
In the United States,
suicide is tenth leading cause of death.
More than 45,000 people per year.
Death by suicide every twelve minutes.
Suicide.
Permanent solution to temporary problem.
Taboo.
Don’t talk about the elephant in the room.
Music, military, business.
Never good enough.
Damaged.
Defective.
Dented.
Broken.
All of the above.
Internalize everything.
Accept that,
some things can’t be fixed.
Tired of hating my self.
Hatred destroys the vessel in which it is contained.
Suicide ideation.
Destructive and dysfunctional coping mechanism.
Kate Spade.
Anthony Bourdain.
Had everything.
Fame, power, wealth.
Demons never go away.
I see you Mara.
June 2012.
Drive Pacific Coast Highway.
Walked across Golden Gate Bridge.
Didn’t jump.
Obviously.
Look down at the toe rail.
Don’t see San Francisco skyline.
Received Buddha’s precepts.
Disciple of Buddha does not harm or kill, but rather, cultivates life.
Suicide does not end suffering.
Transfers suffering from victim, to family and friends.
Lived in a monastery.
Return to the marketplace with gift-bestowing hands.
So un-skilled.
Worth less,
than
spit in the desert.
What is in my head,
isn’t reality.
But often,
perception is reality.
Often wish that I was never born.
Often wish that I was given the choice.
Wouldn’t have to choose suicide.
Am I okay.
Not always so.
a
joy
less
life
Suicide.
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
But,
likely inevitable.
Not pretty.
But,
pretty honest.
Brutally honest.
Too honest.
Maybe.
Not.
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with this one wild and precious life
– Mary Oliver
Part II: koan
First monk sat facing the wall.
Second monk, said “my mind is not at peace; please put my mind to rest.”
First monk, replied “bring me your mind, and I will put it to rest.”
Second monk, said “I have searched for my mind, but cannot find it.”
First monk, replied “there, I have put your mind to rest.”
from, The Gateless Barrier
Part III:
USB thumb drive has a file folder marked “s.” There are more than a dozen draft suicide notes. Very likely that I would – or could – commit suicide with no blatant warning.
December 2005, went skiing on Saturday; at the time, skied fifty days per year; awake 3am, arrive southern Vermont 7am; first tracks 8am, ski six hours 2pm; depart 3pm, home by 6pm.
Should have been an enjoyable day, but contemplated suicide; during the drive north; all day skiing, during the drive south. Contemplated nudging the steering wheel, and careening into a utility pole on Interstate-91.
Arrived home; put away ski equipment; sat on the couch, in the dark; called home; told my parents. It was a way to “disarm” the bomb. Bomb is still there, but no longer a silent or invisible threat. Opened an avenue for discussion. At the very least, if I commit suicide, it wouldn’t be a “surprise.” Surprise!
October 2017, shared dharma talk at Houston Zen Center. Way-seeking mind, or how I came to practice Zen Buddhism, The Buddha Saved my Life. Suicide ideation brought me to Zen Buddhism. Spoke publicly about suicide to fifty people, followed by question and answer. Open to discussing in public, and it wasn’t until the morning of the discussion, when I realized the gravity of what I was about to do. Can’t simply change my mind, or recant, suggest that this was someone else, or, “just kidding.” Likely means not running for political office in the future, right?
You may hear the emotion in my voice; it’s palpable. Talking about suicide is part of the healing process; if there is a healing process. Cycled so many times – like a phugoid oscillation – it’s difficult to not see suicide as an eventual outcome.
Hating oneself is a likely force field; people likely can tell that something isn’t right; likely keeps people away (from me); being introverted and shy doesn’t help; likely die alone.
Fucked up since childhood; never happy; often cried; why is he crying (others would ask). Somehow, my “happiness” set point is much different than that of most other people.
Celebrated psychologist, Victor Frankl, suggests that, one who has a “why” to live for, may endure almost any “how.” But, I don’t have a “why.” So, why bother (living).
Served the United States four years as an enlisted Marine; twenty-years community service, including hospice and Texas prison system; spiritual practice. No meaning, no purpose, no equanimity, no happiness. No thing.
Some people suggest that I would feel better if I spent more money on crack and whores.
Some people believe that I’m stubborn; I’ve become less stubborn with age. Made it through Marine Corps boot camp, thirteen weeks and six drill instructors; I was more stubborn than the drill instructors; they rode my ass trying to get me to quit. Graduated university with 4.0 because I’m stubborn; passed all four parts of the CPA exam in a single sitting (with a 92%) because I’m stubborn. I’m only alive, because I’m stubborn…or dumb.
But, there’s a limit, too. Visited Hiroshima in 1997, when stationed in Okinawa Japan. Visited atomic bomb dome and peace memorial park, where the first atomic bomb was detonated. It was a surreal day; visited the museum, watched footage of the destruction and survivors; their skin was falling off in sheets. I would have preferred to perish than to survive.
If diagnosed with cancer, would likely not elect chemotherapy or radiation; remove the tumor, and accept that I’m going to die at some point by some cause. Watched too many people (in hospice) “fight” cancer; disease goes into remission; comes back with a vengeance. There’s a reason why cancer is called “the emperor of all maladies.”
In parts of society, suicide is a sin. In consumer driven United States, if something is “defective” throw it away; toss broken television on the curb. I’m defective; throw me away.
Accept that I’m broken and damaged; it’s easier than resisting. Resistance is futile. Acceptance allows me to (try to) move forward; even, if I can’t move forward.
United States doesn’t have healthcare; system doesn’t keep people healthy. United States has sick care; system treats people after they are sick. Had migraines since graduate school; no doctor or neurologist ever “fixed” the migraine. Here’s a prescription for sumatriptan; side effects may include heart attack. If doctor can’t “fix” physical pain, how will a doctor ever “fix my mind.” Only thing worse than healthcare in North America is mental healthcare.
Maybe now, one may see the value of meditation; watch thoughts go by like drifting clouds. My mind secretes thoughts while walking through Mexico, five miles per day. My mind is a sewer; it’s in the gutter; chattering monkey mind; don’t know mind. The value of a long meditation retreat, is that the mind eventually surrenders to fatigue, and one may simply focus on the breath (seated meditation), or on the feet (walking meditation).
When living in the monastery, had a migraine so bad, it made me rush to the bathroom and vomit; violent response; muscles tighten; body working in reverse; releasing toxic toxins. Often, feel better afterwards. Maybe, the same is true here; “vomiting” about suicide. How does a person “let go” of something; how does a person “let be.”
In Zen practice, instructed to abide in the present moment; experience the experience that you are experiencing; abide in the present moment (without changing the present moment). Lotus flower only blooms in the muddy water. I abide in dysthymia and suicide ideation. This is how I came to sit facing the wall in a semi-dark room. I teach suffering and the end of suffering, said, the Buddha; the essence of Zen Buddhism in one sentence.
No one needs to call, email, text. Nothing is different; just sharing publicly. It’s like a house fire; the house from the outside looks fine; but the house is completely gutted on the inside.
Wondering if this post violates Buddhist precept of right speech; abstaining from false speech, slanderous speech, harsh or hateful speech, and idle chatter. If I have to ask the question, it’s likely that I already know the answer.
Wise person once said, if you find yourself in a hole, stop digging.
Part IV:
Hardcore Zen | I Hate Myself | January 18th 2017 | Los Angeles CA
Met Brad Warner at Tassajara (2013); appreciate his thoughtful insights.
One of my relatives made the words “I hate myself” her Facebook status today. She’s 20. I totally get it.
Probably the main reason I got into Zen was because I hated myself so much for plenty of good reasons. I thought maybe Zen would fix that.
It didn’t. I still hate myself.
What has changed is that, these days, when I start hating myself, I also ask, “Who hates who?”
If I say, “I hate myself,” what do I mean. Who is “I” and what is “myself.”
The phrase “I hate myself” does mean something. It describes a feeling. But is that the feeling of “I” hating “myself.”
This might seem like I’m playing around with words, but it’s important.
It’s important because if “I hate myself” is an accurate phrase, then maybe the best thing to do is to change myself, or, failing that, destroy myself. So, both self-improvement and suicide seem like sensible ways to deal with “I hate myself.”
I’ve never committed suicide, though I came close a few times. I have, however, attempted to improve myself. But it never worked. So, I can see why suicide seems like a reasonable solution to so many people. If you can’t fix something, you might as well throw it away.
You can, of course, improve certain things. I’ve managed to improve my ability to speak Japanese, my guitar playing, my public speaking skills, and so on.
But improving myself has been impossible. I’ve given up trying because it’s a waste of time and effort. I’ve tried to emphasize those aspects of my supposed “self” that I like, but I’m too self-critical for that to ever work very well. Accepting myself has been useful to a limited extent, but I end up having to accept aspects of me that are clearly awful, so I still hate them.
Anyway, how may I improve myself. Aren’t “I” and “self” two names for the same thing. How can an “I” so flawed and inadequate, that I hate it, do anything constructive to its “self.”
And yet, even though the phrase “I hate myself” makes no sense, it does describe a real feeling that lots of us struggle with. So, what can we do with it.
I think the first thing we can do is to recognize that the phrase “I hate myself” makes no sense, and that any solution based on that phrase can’t work. Suicide and self-improvement are both poor responses, because they are based on the phrase used to describe the feeling, rather than on the actual feeling.
In my own case, what I did was try to understand the feeling I described as “I hate myself.” I wanted to see that feeling as it exists before I use the words “I hate myself” to describe it. The best way I’ve found to do this was to sit very quietly, and experience the feeling directly.
I don’t judge the feeling. I don’t say it’s a bad feeling and try to get rid of it. If I got rid of it, I’d miss the opportunity to study it. So, I let it be there.
I also don’t try to figure the feeling out. I don’t try to come up with reasons for the feeling, or reasons I shouldn’t have the feeling. I don’t try to trace the history of the feeling. I don’t scroll through my memories looking for incidents that created the feeling. I don’t trust that method.
If I come up with reasons for – or against – my feeling, aren’t those reasons soaked in that feeling. If I try to trace the history of the feeling, isn’t the personal history I recall based on the feeling. If I try to recall incidents that produced the feeling, aren’t my memories of those incidents colored by the feeling.
I don’t trust that method because it’s based on a flawed premise. It’s based on the idea that one can somehow separate “I” from “self,” and that this subject called “I” may observe an object called “self.”
So, I have to go deeper than that. And the only way to go deeper is to let the feeling be there without analyzing it or trying to make it go away.
When I’ve done that, I’ve seen that “I hate myself” is a passing feeling. If I do nothing with that feeling, it just comes up, stays for a while, and goes away.
This was a surprise because I thought the feeling “I hate myself” was constant. It isn’t. It’s only constant because I continuously make efforts to reinforce it.
If I describe what I am as, “I’m five feet seven with brown hair and brown eyes, I like pizza, and I hate myself” then I feel like shit.
But the reason I feel like shit isn’t actually because I hate myself – even though it seems that way. I feel like shit because I am putting a lot of energy into maintaining “I hate myself” as a part of my sense of self.
My height, my hair and eye color, my love of pizza, and other such things don’t require a whole lot of maintenance. Those aspects and others like them remain whether I work on them or not.
But “I hate myself” takes energy and effort, and constant repetition and reinforcement to sustain. After a while all that effort is exhausting. I feel tired and worn out because so much of my energy has gone into maintaining “I hate myself.”
But if I can let go of “I hate myself,” it’s like putting down a massive weight I’ve been dragging along behind me for no good reason.
Letting go of things, like “I hate myself,” is easier said than done. “I hate myself” doesn’t exist in isolation. Replacing it with a different feeling doesn’t help. “I hate myself” and “I love myself” are two aspects of the same thing. Dragging either one of them behind you all the time takes equal effort, and is equally exhausting.
Through a long process of trial-and-error, I’ve seen that there is a way to step aside, there is a place where you don’t have to take either one of these options, you don’t have to replace self-hate with self-love. Which was a relief to learn, because I was never able to do it. For me, zazen [meditation] has been a very effective way to learn how to step aside from impossible options.
I’m still working on this. I’ll probably be working on it for the rest of my life. But I’ve found that it’s better than any other solution to the problem of “I hate myself” than I’ve ever come across.
Suicide & Crisis Lifeline | 988 | 24-hours per day | 7-days per week
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