How do you possibly wrap your head around losing the one you love? By their own hand? I just don’t know. I can’t fathom. I mean, I have pictured it so many times in my head, because it’s always been a concern. Rory told me, even before we started dating (hours before, but still), that he had tried to commit suicide once. It had been about a year earlier, at the time. But then three months later we hospitalized him for being suicidal. And now six months later, again. But if it were to actually happen, I’d be devastated. He knows this, but it doesn’t matter because that’s not how being suicidal works. You can’t just say, “But think of all the people who love you.” That doesn’t matter. I get it. I really do. But I don’t have to like it.
He’s explained to me the thought process that goes on when he’s suicidal. The fact that your brain sees reality in a completely different way. Your brain makes it so that the only logical course of action is to die. And it totally makes sense to you at the time, in a special-twisted-kind-of-logic kind of way. I’ve had similar experiences, albeit not involving suicide. Your brain gets convinced of something that isn’t actually reality, but that doesn’t matter. It’s reality to you at the time. The key is to stay safe during those times. But how to do that isn’t always clear.
My hopes for the future are these: I hope Rory comes home with a renewed determination to take control of his life, keeping up with such things as exercise, meditation, breathing exercises, and a more proactive approach to his doctors and his care. I will do what I can too, of course, but I’m only support staff. Rory would be the first person to say that it’s his responsibility to take charge of himself. But I hope to keep him on track. If his medications are working, this should be possible.
I can’t wait to see him again tonight. More group visiting, with others, though. I long to see him by myself. Maybe I’ll get to do that tomorrow. Or maybe not until he’s released. Who knows.