new video: invisible but not alone

my nearly 60 year journey in about six minutes

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VrPDwyU5ZbI&feature=plcp

Way Over Yonder

All my grandparents are there. So are a few of my cousins. My dad and each one of his brothers and sisters and their spouses. Not just those aunts and uncles, but my maternal aunt and uncle, too. There are long gone mentors and professors. There are friends I knew fairly well, friends I barely knew, and people who I would like to befriend. 

When I make the journey, I'd like to meet some of the famous members of our club. Guys like Harvey and Stuart and Pyotr. If it were just up to me, the decision might be much easier. I've considered it before, usually just as a fantasy, but once very seriously. Not because I wanted to go, but because staying seemed so painful and pointless. 

I'm glad I resisted the temptation. I'm glad my mental health has improved. But when I read about someone like Todd Ransom and others who sought a way out, I realize I'm still vulnerable. Yes, in someways I'm stronger than I've ever been. I'm healthy, for the most part, and have so much to be thankful for. It has been a beautiful life, a good ride, a wonderful busy day at school. 

And there's more to come. More joy and more pain. More accomplishments and disappointments. More hot sunny days, cold dark winter nights, and those few perfect days we get each spring and fall here in the shadows of the everlasting hills. There are more rides, hikes, swims, fireworks and picnics. More doctor's offices, hospital stays, tears, deaths, funerals, graves and flowers to be placed on graves. There are more hugs and massages. More sunrises, sunsets and wild bells ringing out across the snow. 

I hope to be here. I've made promises I'm going to keep. And I've broken promises, too. Only in my dreams have I slept a summer by his side, but some of my days have been filled with wonder. But I know very well by now that there are dreams that cannot be and there are storms we cannot weather. Sorry to fill a post with so many ripoffs and cliches. 

Dear Stuart,

Your name is getting mentioned more frequently here in the Mohosphere as we approach the 10th anniversary of your death. My own suicide would have followed your's a little over a year later. You took your life on February 25, 2000. My death would probably been sometime between March and August of 2001.

That's when I felt the lowest, but strangely back then you weren't at all on my mind. I'd heard your story, but somehow I didn't relate to it then. I didn't want to commit suicide to send a message, I simply wanted to end the pain. I wonder how many gay Mormon suicides are more like mine almost was, than the more public way you chose to change the scenery.

If I had gone through with it, I probably wouldn't have left a note. I might have even tried to make it look like an accident. But when I felt my most discouraged, rather than plan my exit, I tried to find a way to hang on. Maybe you did that, too. Maybe if I'd been in your shoes, I'd have done what you did, but I was in my shoes.

So what happened? Well your story is still being told and so is mine. Your story is told by others. Your parents tell it. Those who knew you tell it, but mostly I think, your story gets told by those who didn't know you at all. Your story continues to evolve without you. Perhaps it will always do so.

My story I continues to evolve, too, but at least I'm here still adding to it. Some of it is here in my blog. My journals have some of it. My friends and family have bits and pieces. I guess both of our stories are going to go on and on, you're just not in a place where you can still actively contribute to the process.

Or are you? Maybe you and presidents Kimball and Hinckley are talking. Maybe Elders Faust, Maxwell and Brown are in the discussion, too. Maybe you have had some meetings with Evan Stephens, and I sometimes wonder if he's still writing hymns. Maybe all of you are trying to send some messages to all of us and we're just not paying attention.

I want to believe that it's not just your mortal life and death that have made a difference to so many of us. I want to believe that it is also the life you continue to lead. That's what I want to believe.

What I do know is that I'm glad to be alive. I'm glad there are such things as suicide helplines, counselors, medications, prayer, scriptures, loving family, amazing friends and a compassionate Bishop, or two or three. I'm glad I've kept going to church. I'm glad I'm still here in this life, in this neighbohod, in this ward and stake, in this workplace and in my own home. I'm grateful for old friends and some new ones, too. In all of these venues and relationships there is room to learn and grow. I thank you for the role you've played (and are playing?) in helping all of us gain a greater understanding of each other and some of the challenges we face.

I'm looking forward to meeting you someday Stuart, but I hope it isn't anytime soon. I guess that's because I've found out that I pretty much like life. It was awful in 2001 for me, but in 2002 it got a little better, and it 2003 and 2004 it got a ton better and now here we are in the year 2010 and you know what? For a decade that started pretty poorly for me, it's been pretty good. What's amazing is that I don't think these good years would have been possible without that dark time in my life in 2001. It was terrible, but it was also instructional.

I hope you get a chance to read this. I just wish you were still here with us.

See you on the other side,
Ned

Thoughts can kill, but can words heal?

I found myself writing a reply to Beck tonight and thought I'd share it here as well:

I have also felt dead ended at times. Once it was so bad I didn't think I had any option but taking my own life. Fortunately I got help and was eventually able to envision more constructive ways to cope and move forward.

Ezra says you can be in the right spot but not have the results you seek. So true in my experience. I didn't take this photo, but I've shot ones like it. Usually the light is right only for a few moments. You can be in the right spot, but if you're not aware of the moments, you might miss it. However if you capture it vividly in your memory, it's yours forever and nothing can take it away from you. Maybe, Beck, you're in the right spot right now, or you soon will be. I love Sinatra's "love is either in your heart or on its way..." from Young at Heart.

Jay remembers not feeling a sense of belonging for a long time, me too on that one. MoHoHawaii endorses therapy. I can tell you I wouldn't be alive today without it. So on top of these ideas I'll throw in one more: bibliotherapy. It's inexpensive and sometimes quite effective.

Beck I will pray for you. I will ask our Father in Heaven to bless you now and in the hours and days ahead that you might feel His divine love, and our love, your wife's love, your children's love, the love of those you have mentored, and the love you have cast upon the waters these many years. I want to believe that we are also in your prayers, and I do believe our collective and individual prayers are more powerful than we sometimes think.