Talking About Suicide on Good Friday

It amuses me to think about how these conversations we have about suicide make the administration of my law school squirm.

They aren’t worried about me. They are worried about the logistics, liability, and countless other things that have nothing to do with me. They just want to dot their I’s, cross their T’s.

We need administrators, at least for now. I think AI could easily do their jobs. They likely will be one of the first white-collar casualties of the AI revolution. And honestly, I’d rather talk about my suicidal thoughts with a robot that will freely admit it doesn’t have feelings, yet can do a WAY better job of empathizing than a human that should care but doesn’t.

So, I enjoy that Schadenfreude ((pronounced SHAH-den-froy-duh) is the experience of pleasure, joy, or self-satisfaction derived from learning of or witnessing the troubles, failures, or humiliation of another.) It’s these kinds of twisted amusements that bring me some of the biggest joys on earth. (That, and having a good meal followed by a good shit the next day. It’s the full cycle of life, and it’s wonderful.)

But even more than that, I’ve truly enjoyed the conversations of people who have come up to me expressing similar suicidal feelings.

This is a third-rail topic. I NEVER click the box with my therapist about if I’ve had suicidal thoughts in the last 2 weeks. I just don’t want that conversation. We are embarrassingly behind in thinking about this topic.

Albert Camus stated that “there is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide” in the opening lines of his 1942 essay, The Myth of Sisyphus.

Literally, all you had to do was read the first page of the book, and we could have had a jumping-off point for the conversation. But no, it’s too scary. It’s too “serious.”

Mostly, I just wanted to say, “I hear you. And you aren’t alone in thinking the thoughts you are thinking.”

You are right to question whether it is all worth it or not.

But I often carry my father-in-law’s words into this debate. “Suicide is a long-term answer to a short-term problem.” I’ve found this to be quite true.

I’ve also known people who have killed themselves while they were drunk or high. That’s a damn tragedy.

I’ve also had homeless friends who killed themselves after they had just started to get to a better place in their lives. I think there is a level of existence below the thought of suicide that is beyond severe, torturous self-loathing and extreme emotional suffering. And as you move up the elevator of life, you actually feel more pain than you did when you were freezing, unsheltered on the street alone.

And then there are people who are in a state of continual emotional or physical suffering. The question of suicide for these people becomes much more real and serious.

During a trip back to the Mayo Clinic on April 25, 1961 (where he had spent the last seven months being treated for depression), shortly after takeoff, Hemingway struggled to open the plane door and jump out. During a fuel stop in South Dakota, he rummaged through parked cars searching for a gun. When he couldn’t find one, he headed toward a plane taxiing down the runway, apparently intending to throw himself into the propeller — but the pilot cut the engine.

Suicide ran in the Hemingway family — his grandfather, father, brother, sister, and granddaughter all died by suicide.

These are complicated, nuanced, and delicate situations. I certainly support personal autonomy and the right to live your own life any way you please. But you really need to make sure this is what you want because it’s such a permanent deal.

For most of us, the suicide question is, while real, not that critical. I believe we are all correct in thinking about it. In fact, I think thinking about suicide is a good way to realize that life isn’t all that bad. (I maintain that the pizza is still good and a good nap is priceless.)

And then, I’ll leave you with this on Good Friday. Did Jesus kill himself today?

He knew he was going to be betrayed. He, apparently, was an all-knowing God who could control space and time. Why did he do it?

The story is, if I remember correctly, he did it to save us from our sins. It’s kind of a cop out if you ask me. Like, as God, was he required by some cosmic law to sacrifice himself in order to get past his own old-school rules?

Maybe he was just tired.

Maybe he figured he’d become a martyr, and maybe that was his last big move. Maybe this act would inspire us to be better people.

On February 25, 2024, Aaron Bushnell, a 25-year-old active duty U.S. Air Force serviceman, died after setting himself on fire outside the front gate of the Embassy of Israel in Washington, D.C. As he burned, he repeatedly shouted “Free Palestine!”

That’s a Jesus-type move. But his extreme efforts seemed not to have made one inch of a difference in the actual change of things.

And honestly, I feel the same way about Jesus. We live in a me-first world. And somehow we’ve contorted the message of Jesus to be in line with that ideology.

I think I would rather Jesus and Aaron had just stuck around and enjoyed the pizza. We weren’t ready for the message 2000 years ago, and we still weren’t ready for the message 2 years ago.

Don’t kill yourself. Yes. The world sucks. Yes. Things aren’t getting better. Yes. Life is hard. You are correct in all those things. But if you aren’t in perpetual depression or pain, you can find a path that is comfortable.

I’m telling you the food alone is worth the stay. Not to mention the good people in your life, the dogs, and the large bodies of water. I’m not at all convinced those things are going to be around in the place we are all headed.

I like to think that the universe made us so that it could look back at itself in wonder. We were created just to enjoy the view.

I love you, and Happy Good Friday.

Sage

P.S.

I guess you can press the numbers: 988 on your phone and talk to someone about suicide. I’ve never done it. But maybe someday I will.