Swim

September third, two thousand twenty one. It was 8:31 pm. My phone rang.

My world changed.

This date will forever be cemented in my heart and mind as the day I lost one of my favorite people in the world.

Not lost in the sense that we can find something, because he was not misplaced. More, gone forever, and leaving a very large hole in the lives of many.

To Gibby, love your #1 fan.

I wrote this as a short literary piece, to recognize him and to bring light to the struggle of mental health and suicide.

Please, do not choose a permanent solution to temporary problems. Suicide is not the answer.

Swim:

I understand being alone in a sea of people.

I am so sorry you ever felt this way, my friend.

Isolation is a terrorist that lives in the mind of those with the most to give. It is the self made addiction from survival mode.

It is the drug induced coma of those who choke on rejection and anxiously await the day they can be free of the weight of society's expectations.

You sit, in the center of a boat with leaks, the laughter and joy of others are waves that crest over your edges and seep through the bottom.

Your bucket doesn’t hold enough crowns or mottos, or conversations and affirmations to bail you out.

You suffocate in the silence, you shatter in the darkest crevices a mind has to offer.

You go mad, believing you truly do not matter and spiraling into the shadows of dark thoughts…

A million times of what you can do differently until you no longer care to think about anything more than escaping the drowning weight on your chest that is neatly packaged and manufactured as a solvable problem named “mental health.”

Which is truly ironic to call it mental health when you feel so unhealthy.

Get exercise. Take some pills.

Be social but spend time alone so you learn to love yourself more.

Eat healthy, but give yourself treats too so you can feel the guilt of loving yourself later.

Talk, reach out! But only when it’s convenient because Gods forbid someone stop to think you actually need them.

Call this 1-800 number and remain on hold for hours to talk to someone who has done the research on how to help, but cannot tell you how to untie the metaphorical noose wrapped around your neck, while you gasp for air and choke on the anxiety of your self-worth.

Yes, I have been alone in a sea of people.

I have dreamt of the day I no longer see the only escape as a final act.

I have fought the same demons and sat in the weight of the sinking boat, throwing ropes to anyone who I thought needed saving more than me.

No one can save me. I’m just too broken.

So, my dear friend, I know the weight you carried. I love you.

Put down your heavy things and worry not for the anger and sorrow of others.

I forgive you for leaving that pain behind for all of us to bear.

You are never alone again. I’ll see you someday.

I hope that day is not near, not for a long while.

I think I’ll sit, awhile longer in my sinking boat, and listen to the laughter of the waves.

Maybe, if I am lucky enough… I will learn to swim.