Suicide is going to be the death of me

So since I've been on Chantix it appears my loved ones have me on suicide watch.

Blink.

From the official site (and the script insert):

Some patients have had changes in behavior, agitation, depressed mood, and suicidal thoughts or actions while using CHANTIX to help them quit smoking.

So everyday I get asked by my loved ones "are you ok?" "how do you feel?" and from the Butterfly "so, you gonna kill yourself today?".

Can you feel the love here?

Now to be honest, I realize where they are getting this over zealous concern from - a discussion I've had with each of them at some time over the years. The "I believe that a person has the right to end their own life when they feel they're ready to go."

Yeah I know. Gets the Western sensibilities in a snarl.

I also know how fucked up I was after the dead husband died and those that went through that with me were extremely concerned about my mental well being. Rightly so because frankly, if I hadn't had PFC Tyler I would have offed myself. The needs of my kid have kept me alive, not some twisted love of life. The Butterfly didn't know me then so I have nfc what his malfunction is. Speaking of which he's on the phone now asking me how I'm doing and telling me how proud of me he is and some sexually deviant stuff, lol. Jeebus, do I come across as a fucking psychopath or something???

So how did I come to the conclusion that suicide is acceptable? Well meet my Aunt Connie (circa 1956).



My aunt was one of the women who helped raise me. She was also the first professional female in our family. Extremely smart, fiercely independent, defiantly feminist. She and my uncle Curtis had no children, so my cousin Debbie and I became "hers". Shortly before she retired, my uncle moved to TN and they were officially separated. About 6 months after her retirement, my aunt died of an overdose. It was ruled an accident, but we know what happened.

Connie was ill towards the end of her life. She was also lost after retiring - her career was her LIFE. Add to that the strain of her 30 yr marriage ending and she was just - tired of living. I can get with that. I can UNDERSTAND that. I can respect that. I was 15 at the time and understood that. The money she left me funded my first 2 years of college. She inspired me to be a hard-nosed professional.

The thing my loved ones can't seem to get is that I am not suicidal. I'm groovin along with life now. No, it was NOT GOOD when Danny died but life does go on. I've learned to enjoy the little bright spots of happiness you get even if they're few and far between. So everyday I have to tell them to get a grip, stop freaking out and relax. I'm not planning on going anywhere, damn I'm trying to quit smoking, DUH!

Yes, I know all the arguments about suicide: it's selfish, it's cowardly, it's illegal, it means you have issues that need to be shrink-ified. No, it's NONE of those things. It's a personal choice that should be respected and accepted.

But I still believe it's an individual's right to end their life when they want. And if or when I ever decide it's my time, I will.


now playing on my iPod "Touch of Grey" Grateful Dead

Richard and Mary Alice

Samhain is approaching RAPIDLY.

My family that is beyond us now has been reaching to me through the thinning veil. They're reminding me of who I am, what they instilled in me and giving me all their love and support like always.

In honor of them, throughout the rest of the month I'm going to use pics of them as my avatar. And tell you a little bit about them as well.

Today I'll start at, well my beginning, and present my parents. My father passed away 2 years ago. My mother is still alive. But this is a picture of them in 1955 just before they got married. It's my very very very very favorite picture of them together. They look DAP! Daddy is ROCKIN that suit and mom is all about that hat and gloves. That man wore a suit every single day of his life until he died.

Yes, they were married at a fucked up time. Yes, they had problems being an interracial couple but neither one of them gave a shit. They ran with a very progressive crowd, full of artists, musicians, academics and techno geeks. Yes, techno geeks - they both worked for the Navy and my father was a computer programmer. Of course computers back then were the size of a room, but that's what he did.

They were also members of an interracial couples group in Cleveland and all of them were considered the "smart set". I remember lots of dinner parties, group picnics and backyard bbq's. I grew up with a lot of other biracial kids whose parents were part of that group. In fact, my first serious boyfriend (who took my virginity) and I had played together as babies back then.

My mother's family all lived in Cleveland (by way of Alabama) so we spent a lot of time with them as well. My mother's cousins and my parents always got together to play bid whist and drink and dance. My cousins and I would run around like knuckleheads and all fall asleep on the bed with all the coats while the adults partied late into the night.

My father's family all lived in Fulton, MO and we didn't see them often. My dad had 11 brothers and sisters (good IRISH CATHOLIC family that!) Almost all of them accepted my mother and me. At least my grandparents did. I can remember driving down there a few times and due to the laws in some of the states we passed through, my parents weren't legally married. My mom and I had a hotel room (for colored), my dad had another (for whites). My very first memory of racism directed at me was on one of those trips. Once we got to Missouri one of my uncles came over the house and told my paternal grandmother "I can't believe you let that little nigger in here. I'm not staying here with that." To which my grandmother replied, "Then I guess you're gonna have to leave because this is my grandbaby who will always be welcome. And when you leave, don't bother coming back." Until her death 10 yrs later he never set foot in her house again. I was about 5 then.

My parents divorced several years later. My mother never remarried, my father had a common law wife and they had 2 kids together. I was never close to them, but until the day he died I was always Daddy's little girl. I still am.