Writing this on Sunday, I’m sickened by social media posts designed for the writer to benefit professionally from Caroline Flack killing herself. The ‘I’ve been there too’ brigade and ‘I can help you xyz.’
Those of you who know the dark bleak seductiveness of suicide will be sickened too. We’re the ones who made it back through an act of grace one way or the other. We’re the ones who know the whole freakin’ thing is too sacred to be monetised.
Too sacred to be chewed over with the macabre picking over of what drove her to it. Jeeez is there no integrity or sensitivity left in the media?
OK Sharon! Your buttons are being pushed big time… So what are you seeing in this of you?
Tears prick my eyes.
For I’m seeing the extraordinarily vulnerable part of me who feels unable to face what seems an insurmountable thing.
Who feels no-one and no–thing can help her. Who despairs, who feels without power, without agency and her only desire is for the relentless terror and pain to stop.
Dear god – let it stop!
And when it won’t?
Then you have to stop it yourself.
And we are left to mourn another magnificent soul who didn’t make it back. Not back into this world and this life at least.
What do I know?
All I can work from is my own experience and gratitude that, beyond all the odds, my Wild Soul intervened to keep me here…
Just as your Wild Soul keeps you here day by day.
Love to you…