As we go along in life, for years, we might have made tiny little thought transactions like this: A neighbor of mine commits suicide when he learns he has cancer. I think, "Well, that makes sense--he just chose when to go." And then, an old childhood acquaintance takes his kid out into the mountains to scope for deer. He leaves his child sleeping in his car seat. He has custody that week. He wanders around longer than he thought to, and when he gets back he finds the child must have woken up and gotten out, because the child is gone. He dies of exposure. The father, distraught, commits suicide a few weeks later. I think, "I can understand that."

Combine it with my own shallowness. I'd never had a major problem or a major loss. My family always died when they got old. We had alcoholism but we all found various ways to get over it. I went to Al Anon for a couple of years. So, I never knew what it felt like to get that low emotionally. I never thought much about the right and wrong of suicide. I only knew I wouldn't do it because it would hurt the people I love the most.

Okay, so this last winter I got so depressed, I envied people who died. If I didn't have other modes of thinking, other resources, education or whatnot, I might have thought it was the only way to end my suffering.

So many things going on today show the emptiness of the things we counted on to keep us feeling happy. I'm glad I'm feeling better, and I just wish that people who want to kill themselves would instead be willing to kill off something in their life circumstances...or maybe make a radically different choice...or whatever they could do that they didn't think they could...that could be a beautiful thing.