before the breaking

Moon Dog by Nick White

Moon Dog by Nick White

i can no longer recall
who i was before
the breaking

memories faded, distant
brittle frames from
home video left out
in weather and dust

there are hints
subtle whispers
a scent on the breeze,
suggestions of
who died that day,
reminiscent personality
left to rot in
so much mire.

i miss him
a bitter longing
or perhaps just the idea
that once this all
was different.

where once was
hope, now bitter

where once was
love, now scornful

where once was
passion, now caustic

where once was
vigor, now apathetic

where once was
genial empathy, now
selfish indignation

where once was
wholesome symmetry, now
all lies shattered.

Facing Uncertainty by Sara Biljana

Facing Uncertainty by Sara Biljana

© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

“The demons got my beautiful, loving daughter…” via The Washington Post


Doris Fuller with daughter Natalie, 2004

Read “My daughter, who lost her battle with mental illness, is still the bravest person I know” by Doris A. Fuller on The Washington Post.

In case some of y’all don’t know, this “crazy emo brain cloud bullshit” kills motherfuckers.  This kind of story always hits home, because it makes me realize the potential consequences of my own suicidal ideation, and it makes things like the death of my brudder Branden come up fresh and new again. (A tale for another time…)

To paraphrase a friend, after every manic episode, every bout of deep depression, every nervous breakdown, every psychotic break, it becomes harder and harder to bounce back, to find your center again, to remember who you are. Some don’t make it back.

For those who may need them, below are a few links to resources for help in moments of crisis.  Please, if you need to, use them.  If you don’t, guaranteed someone you know does, so feel free to pass them along.  And keep your head up!  There’s plenty more ridiculous shit to experience. 😀

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (US)

National Crisis Services (US)

List of Suicide and Crisis Hotlines

Crisis and Suicide Hotlines (Canada)

International Suicide Prevention Lifelines

International Crisis and Suicide Hotlines

The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”  — David Foster Wallace


Image by Neo-Surrealism Art