March 24, 1994

"It is not those who can inflict the most, but those that can suffer the most who will conquer."
                                                     Terence McSwiney - Irish Rebel&Hero

The history of Ireland, including the current problems in the North, prove Terence McSwiney to be correct.  He suffered and died in a British jail in 1920 after a 74 day hunger strike.  But this act of suffering also carries over to Irish-Americans. There is something about suffering that appeals to the Irish - and not for the religious reasons about offering it up to God or for the poor souls in Purgatory.  I think we suffer because we are good at it.  After centuries of persecution, hardship, famines and stern and strict sermons, suffering has become embedded within us that is just comes naturally - usually wrapped in guilt.  We are a people whose wars are merry and whose songs are sad.  Our common bond is more than blood and heritage, it is that we suffer well.  It is too bad Saint Patrick didn't have the wisdom and foresight to drive the inner serpents out of our ancestors, rather than the snakes out of Ireland.

But I am tired of suffering and am tired of being alone and on my own.  I am living in my own private hell of anxiety, misery, depression, despair, sadness and loneliness.  My loneliness is so keen, so deep, that there are times when I'm full of terror.  I am tormented endlessly.  It is said that God comes to us through our wounds, but I have yet to feel His healing presence.

For the past four months I've been living out of two overnight bags, a gloomy gypsy wandering aimlessly with no escape from self.

Today in my last day in Saint Augustine. I got much accomplished on this trip, but little rest.  All my goodbye letters are written, the envelopes addressed, sealed and stamped - to be mailed when my parents find them after my death. The best of this trip was seeing Robin.  I even wrote her a goodbye letter. I've been thinking about her way too much, weaving unrealistic daydreams into childish fantasies.  But these thoughts allow me to escape, however briefly, from the burdens of my suffering.

My suffering is killing me and it is a slow and painful death - am tired of being a good suffer.  Only seven weeks remain of this deep, dark and horrifying nightmare before my journey into the great unknown.

2:30pm   -   Monterey Inn   -   Saint Augustine, Florida

contact: fortheheartcries@gmail.com




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

WHEN YOU KILL YOURSELF

When you kill yourself, this is what happens - you end your life and as you do you steal life from those that love you, destroy their dreams and devastate their lives of all hope. Their shattered souls and broken hearts will never heal, never mend. Your suicide will condemn them to a life sentence of endless nightmares. Their nights will be spent in a flood of tears, not until they fall asleep but until the sun rises - and a new day of sorrowful struggles and suffering begins, day after unending day. Your death will cause so much destructive damage to your family that it will be beyond repair. All will be ruin. They will remember the day you died every day in mournful misery, in sadness and sorrow, in hopelessness and helplessness - forever doomed to a life of agony and anguish. Their minds will ache in brutal pain as they abandon all hope of a peaceful life. Their lives will be spent wandering wearily, not knowing where they are or where they are going - because their life ended with ...
Read more

SUICIDE: EXPLAINED

 " I fear the weight of his mind has overcome him."  William Clark, of Lewis and Clark, on hearing that his friend and fellow explorer, Meriwether Lewis, had died by suicide. The weight of their minds have overcome them - for that is how our loved ones died. Contact: fortheheartcries@gmail.com 
Read more

A LOVED ONE'S SUICIDE: WHAT IF?

  What if? Two simple words, but if you have lost a loved one to suicide - those two words, "what if," can torture and torment you relentlessly and endlessly. What if he talked to me, what if she called me, what if I stayed home, what if I called to say hello, what if I invited her out to lunch, what if I stopped by his apartment - what if? What if...two words that leave you trapped to a past you cannot change, cannot escape. And that is the life you now have to live - and as time passes and you slowly move on, there will be moments when you reflect back in time and ask yourself, what if? - as I do. What if I had joined Anne for breakfast on that Sunday morning - would she had sat on the banks of the Hillsborough River with a gun in her hand on Monday afternoon? What if? Contact: fortheheartcries@gmail.com
Read more