Everyone experiences heartbreak. In one form or another, we all find ourselves recovering from the trials and tribulations of life. But what do we do when we find ourselves standing out a little bit awkwardly from the crowd? As much as we try to blend back into the crowd, it’s difficult. We all want the same thing-acceptance and a place in society..
As a society, we criticize those that step across the social line, and slowly but surely, erode a piece of that person’s self-esteem. Depression affects 18 million adults every year. That’s 18 million people with feelings of helplessness, self-loathing, and despair.
How many of those people admit those thoughts out loud? In today’s day and age, where appearance is everything, we walk around like robots.
“I’m fine,” you say to a friend after losing your job.
The “I’m fine” mantra can only work for so long. Maybe if we believe it hard enough, we can convince ourselves that we’re OK.
When in reality, we’re struggling to do even the most mundane task. Just getting out of bed is a mission in itself. We keep our thoughts well hidden, so when the dam finally breaks, we are overwhelmed to the point of excess.
Some hold on. Yet many more give up.
My family received the phone call three days before December, and it changed all of us. My father’s brother, my uncle, had committed suicide.
We all refused to believe it. This was the kind of man who others wished they could be-he walked around with unflagging enthusiasm and excitement for life. In his profession, he was a dedicated pharmacist. He touched the lives of hundreds, possibly thousands of people, and he had taken his life.
It didn’t make any sense. After his suicide, we grappled with the reasons, but in the end, it didn’t really matter. He was gone, and we had to learn to live with the hole he’d left behind.
After my uncle’s suicide, I didn’t talk about it to anyone. My family, grieving in pain, had asked the family to keep it a secret. Even my closest friends were in the dark.
Finally, I decided to write about it. At first, it was too hard. I cried through each and every draft. Still, I knew I had to finish.
My uncle’s suicide was tragic. This was a man who was struggling with the greatest demon of all: himself.
And in the end, his demons won.
His memory will live on. Not just through his family, but through the people who dare to express their feelings. If anything, this entry is dedicated to the people who feel out of place. The people who feel like crying at the magnitude of life. You’re not alone. And I promise there’s someone that cares about you.
Stacy Lipson
Philadelphia, Pa
stacy.lipson@temple.edu
