Heart Topics: Is Suicide Selfish?

Greetings to any and all who stumble upon this blog article.

This is the first in a series. "Heart Topics" are, in short, any blog posts I write on a topic close to my heart - animal rights, depression, LGBTQ rights, womens' rights, pro-life topics, the effects of porn, etc.

As you may be able to guess... these topics and some others are very personal to me. This means they can sometimes trigger negative memories and emotions, or at the very least, cause me considerable pain.

I tell you this so that you know - it takes great effort for me to write on such things. But I will write, for people need to hear about them. All I ask is that you treat any and all of my Heart Topics with respect when commenting on them.

Now that that is out of the way... we move on to my first Heart Topic.

Suicide. Or, rather, whether or not it is selfish.

As with most aspects of life, this is not black or white. There is no clear-cut answer: no 'yes, it is selfish' and no 'of course it isn't'. It is far, far more complex.

Do I believe suicide is selfish?

Well, I believe it is about as much as I believe all apples are rotten.

(Hint: that's not much.)

Just as not all apples are bad apples, not all suicide cases were because of selfish choices. In fact, eight out of ten people who commit suicide do so because of other people. Observe the following thoughts:

"Everyone will be better off without me."

"If I do this, my parents/spouse will have more money for debts and bills."

"At least now my failures in life won't upset Mom and make her cry."

"I won't be able to constantly upset my friends anymore. I could never help them anyway - like this, they have the ability to go find someone else, someone who can help them."

I can promise you that those thoughts and ones just like them are what goes through a person's mind when they consider suicide.

Why?

Because I have seriously considered it more than once. I've sent out the goodbye notes and had plans to end everything. I never did succeed.

But I can say with complete certainty that my thoughts were not centered on myself - some of them may have been, but the majority revolved around other people.

How much better their lives would be, how many things that would be set right when I was gone... always other people in my mind.

Was I correct? Probably not, on most counts.

I may have been wrong - but I was not being selfish. The definition of selfish is 'concerned excessively or exclusively with oneself'. Which I was not - I had a few thoughts for myself, of course; one of them being, "The pain will finally be gone". But the rest of my thoughts were excessively about other people.

That means that - if I had succeeded - my choice to commit suicide would not have been considered selfish by the dictionary definition of the word.

Neither would the suicides of any person who had felt and thought the same as I did in my situation.

If a soldier kills himself or allows himself to be killed for the greater good of his comrades and his country, he would be considered a hero for 'doing what he had to do for the sake of all'.

When a person ends their own life, often they are doing the same thing - trying to do what they feel is best for the greater good of those they know.

Are they correct? No. But the pain, the feeling of being lost and drowning, make it so that they believe that ending their life is the best thing to do. They are no more selfish than the soldier is - the only difference is that one's mind is clouded by pain, and they are believing something that isn't true.

It is not logical... but it is definitely not selfish either.

Now... can suicide be selfish in some cases? Yes. Sometimes, a person commits suicide and is only thinking of themselves. How to end their pain, why they deserve death, etc. I do admit that.

But I'm going to give anyone who immediately wants to announce to the world, "That was selfish and wrong!" a quick lesson in something called empathy.

I know how hard it is for those of you who have never been truly depressed to understand. Trust me, I do know. When you've never been that low, never been drowning in the dark and lost, unable to find a meaning to anything...

It is only too hard to understand how it feels and the motives behind what happened. Sometimes, it is impossible to figure out the exact motive.

That never - never - gives you cause to be callous and proclaim to anyone who will listen about how selfish and wrong and disgusting a person is for... simply trying to end the agony in the only way they knew how.

My mother's cat died from kidney disease. In her last weeks, she was in agony. Finally, my mother made the decision to euthanise her - to end her suffering instead of prolonging it.

Elderly folk in many places have a choice - if they are getting sicker, and in a lot of pain, they can ask to be 'put down' in a peaceful manner so that they no longer have to suffer.

Why, then, is it so much more 'selfish' and 'cowardly' for another sufferer to try to end the pain in the only way they can think of? Yes, it is wrong, but one who has been in their shoes cannot blame them for it. We can grieve, but knowing the pain they were in, it is impossible to condemn them for their choice.

They were only doing what animals and the elderly have a legal right to do. It isn't logical, yet it is nearly no different, but for the stigma around it.

Not only that, but you never know who might be reading your posts or listening in on your conversations at the store. A severely depressed person may come across something you said about the horrible wrongness of suicide.

The resulting emotions you give them may have disastrous effects.

When Robin Williams committed suicide, and I found out, I was heartbroken and devastated. I still am - I was crying over it the other day. He was the man who did everything for everyone else, and gave them joy... but was going through so much pain, he could never do the same for himself.

Someone on Facebook spoke harshly against the people mourning the loss of the bright soul who had lit up their lives for so long - implying that those who mourned him were foolish. In the comments, more people started to talk about how selfish a choice it had been, and how Robin Williams would surely end up in Hell.

I saw this. I took part in an attempt to explain things to them, as did several others who understood.

I have depression. It was so much worse at that point, because someone I had looked up to had been struggling for years with the same thoughts and feelings I did - and had, the night before, lost his battle with the agony.

And because those feelings of pain were so much more intense for me at such a time, the words those people spoke were a personal blow. I found myself, yet again, suicidal as well.

I wasn't planning on doing anything - 'being suicidal' means that one wishes to die, and may even entertain thoughts of it - but does not plan on going through with it. And I was wishing for death then.

Why? Because I felt like a disgusting human being - I struggled with depression, and I had so many times thought of suicide... and here, I was seeing implications that that made me a bad person, selfish, horrid, and that if I ever made such a mistake, I would end up in eternal damnation.

Do you know what that does to a hurting soul?

I wept the rest of the night, mainly for Robin, but also because of the pain I was going through.

The point I'm trying to make with that anecdote is... you must be empathetic. You must be loving. You must be gentle, and kind, and understanding.

Because you never know who might hear your words. You never know who might feel your words are validating how they already feel - worthless, horrid, and hopeless. You never know who might make the ultimate decision to end it too, solely because they feel from your words that it's true - they don't deserve life and they are horrible for having a medical condition they cannot change.

The bottom line is - even if suicide is done for selfish reasons, shouting it to the world and acting in such a way (without compassion and understanding), is very wrong. You will dig a knife into the wounds of people already hurting from the loss, and possibly cause pain to others.

When something like this happens, offer condolences and reach out to the family and friends who lost their loved one. Pray. Post comforting words.

Do not condemn or judge or make assumptions about how selfish the person was, when you do not know the whole story.

In conclusion to the question - is suicide selfish? - my answer is that it's complicated. It is not black and white. Sometimes people will commit suicide for themselves and not for the perceived good of others. (Most times, as I said, however, it is for the perceived good of others.)

Even if something does seem selfish, it may not be.

Even if it truly is, being callous and uncaring about the gravity of such a situation... is wrong.

And that's all I really have to say on the matter for now. I may write a follow-up in the future.

God bless,
~ Theodora Ashcraft

A Plea and a Prayer: No More

Leelah Alcorn. A bright young lady, only a few months younger than me. She ended her life recently, because she was shown no love, no acceptance, and felt as though the world would never have any hope in it for her, as she was.

Jamey Rodemeyer. 14 years of age.

Jacob Rogers. 18 years of age.

Seth Walsh. 13 years of age.

Asher Brown. 13 years of age.

Eden Wormer. 14 years of age.

And so many more, over the years and through the ages. Gone too soon. They took their own lives, driven to suicide by hatred, by neglect and feeling as though they would never fit in.

Suicide is on the rise because the more time that  passes, the more one realises that love and acceptance are becoming rarer and rarer in society. Bullies run rampant. The 'mongers' - the mongers of hate, and war, and fear - roam the streets and the cyberworld, waiting. Waiting to strike and then disappear, anonymous and uncaring.

Why? Why do we sacrifice souls of beauty, people of worth? And we do. We do sacrifice them. We sacrifice living beings with hearts and emotion, solely for our own agendas - or our own fear of taking a stand, taking their hand, and protecting them whatever the costs. We betray them to the abyss of agony, in an act of self-preservation.

We allow men, women, and children to die - because we are afraid. Afraid to love unconditionally, afraid to accept them, flaws and all. Afraid to get too close.

Because if we had let them get too close, what if they had dragged us down with them? What if their dirt and grime had brushed off on us and turned us - horror of horrors - into them? We could not allow ourselves to get close enough for that to happen... to have their dirt and grime mingle with the dirt and grime we ourselves already carry.

Don't you see? Can't you understand?

It was not only their hand that brought them to the next life. We - the fellow humans, the fellow souls - played our own parts. We did nothing to stop it. In some cases, we may have even caused it to happen.

This needs to stop.

We need to learn to love, to care, to feel. Apathetic is a pathetic way to be, and yet many who do not actively try to hurt others make it no better with their apathy.

Imagine a world where love reigned - a perfect ideal, where love replaced all pain, no exceptions. There would be no war; there would be no bullying; there would be no murders. Because everyone would love one another, and by extension want the best for every person they came across.

How many more innocents must die before we as a species realise that as long as hate, bigotry, fear, and superiority rule, there will be no peace? No hope for a gentle-minded world, no hope for the rescue of our children from depression, bullying, and anxiety.

How many more times will the Leelahs and Seths and Edens of this world have to die by their hands - and by extension our own - before we begin to change?

How many beautiful souls must we lose before it all becomes clear and we begin to hold them dear?

Please.

No more.

No more of this. No more pain, no more neglect, no more attacks hidden behind veils of sweetness-tinged judgement.

No more suicides, brought on by feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness.

No more deaths. Please, God, I beg you, no more. No more executions by the barrage of stones from the falsely righteous, justified by cries of 'sinner, foul sinner!'. No more worn and weary hearts pleading for Death to take them away from the day-to-day struggles of abandonment, cruelty, and unbelonging. No more light-filled souls shattered into shards of darkness.

No more, my God, I beseech thee.

No more.

Please... no more.

Why "I'll Pray For You" Doesn't Help

"I just feel so lost. I want to die, but at the same time, I just want to live."

"Ohh. I'm so sorry. I'll pray for you. Here, read these Bible verses."

That is the sort of conversation I've had many times. I'm in a dark place, and when I admit it to someone, their only words of comfort are 'I'll pray for you', and a few Bible verses copied-and-pasted from a Bible app or from Google.

As a person who has been and still is from time to time in that dark place where life seems meaningless, I feel qualified to speak about the "I'll pray for you" line and why it's rarely any help to a depressed or suicidal individual.

Perhaps you think you're being kind, encouraging, and comforting in your religious words of "I'll pray for you" and "Here, have some Bible verses".

And I'll say right now, sometimes, when done right, it can be comforting. One night, I was extremely lonely and sad, and a panic attack had come on. It was late, but I wasn't thinking about that when I called one of my brothers.

He was awake. And he sat there on the phone for a while, asking me what was wrong and giving me chances to talk if I could. In the end, he prayed out loud for me, and then read a passage from the Bible. Part of it was no doubt the gentle way he was talking - it soothed my frazzled nerves - but mainly it was comforting because I could hear it, and because he didn't just do that and then say he was going to go to bed. He stayed on the line and talked to me, reassuring me it was going to be okay.

Done in that way, the prayer and Bible verses tactic can be comforting.

But more often than not, a person I confide in will simply tell me after I just poured out my heart to them, "Oh no, I'm so sorry. I'll pray for you." Then they'll send some of the typical Bible verses. And... apparently expecting that to be all the comfort needed, they'll either move on with other topics or decide they have to go do something else more pressing.

That is not comforting. That gives, at least to me, the vibe that you really do not want to talk about what I'm going through. You just want to throw out what is, to you, a fix-all and then move on.

That is not helpful.

Look, when you have a child and they're sick, are you going to kneel by their bedside and say, "All right, Jimmy. I'm going to pray for you, and then read this Bible passage to you." Then you do that and leave, without giving him any of the comforts you typically give a child when they're sick - medications, extra blankets, chicken noodle soup, whatever.

No parent would ever think of doing that. Nor would they think of walking up to a man lying on the sidewalk with a broken leg and saying a prayer over them before walking off.

People need to stop treating mental issues and emotional issues as something you can just 'pray away'. We do not do that with physical ailments; why should you do that with mental and emotional ailments?

There isn't medication you can give to someone over the internet or over the phone that will fix their depression or their anxiety. But there is something you can give, and that is comfort. Real, proper comfort that you pour your heart into and show them you love them.

You need to come to terms with the fact that many depressed people (and I'm talking about Christians here) don't want to hear solely about God. *cue the horrified and outraged gasps*

Yeah, you heard me right. As horrible and terrible as it probably sounds to some of you, a depressed person wants to hear comfort and reassurance from someone tangible. Someone they can hear, touch, and get responses from.

Do you understand how it feels to be completely hopeless and to have given up on the world, and then to go to someone you trust for comfort... only to be turned away with a brief 'I'm praying for you'? That makes a person feel worse.

It makes me frustrated at best when I feel like the world is crashing down around me, and the person I go to for comfort sends me away with an alleged promise to pray and a few Bible verses.

It makes me feel alone. Because when I turn to someone I trust and tell them something as deeply personal as 'I want to die', I need comfort. I don't need them going on and on about 'God' and 'Jesus' and 'Bible' and 'pray'. I need them to reassure me that I'm going to be okay, that they're willing to listen to me vent no matter what, that they love me. I need them to give practical advice.

"I'll pray for you" by itself doesn't help because it makes me feel like I'm being pushed away like some little child with a 'later, dearie, I'm too busy to listen to you right now'.

"I'll pray for you" by itself doesn't help because it makes me feel alone.

"I'll pray for you" by itself doesn't help because it sometimes feels condescending and judgmental - because I'm not a good enough Christian due to the fact I don't place everything in God's hands.

"I'll pray for you" by itself doesn't help because it makes me feel inferior.

"I'll pray for you" by itself doesn't help because I gain no comfort from that.

"I'll pray for you" by itself doesn't help because I have trust issues and I have no idea whether you really will.

"I'll pray for you" by itself doesn't help because I need comfort, reassurance, and advice from someone I can talk to face to face.

It doesn't help by itself. A person comes to you for comfort, not a quick promise they have no certainty you'll keep or not.

The next time someone is upset and comes to you for comfort, try to give them something more than a few overused Bible verses and a promise, unless you know for sure that it helps them. Don't act like you can pray away their problems without doing anything else to help.

Make an effort to show that you truly care about them personally, to invest energy in them instead of passing them off to Someone who can't personally speak to or hug them.

Show them you truly care by investing time in them.

God bless,
Theodora Ashcraft

A Confession

I want to say something before I continue—certain readers, especially those of you who are younger, might do well to proceed with caution. I don’t go into explicit detail about anything, but the following subjects might not be something some people should be reading. If something said starts to make you uncomfortable, definitely stop reading if that is what you think you must do.

~~

It was a fairly ordinary day when it started. I think I had recently turned thirteen. I was browsing YouTube. It started out as an innocent search for something-or-other (I no longer remember what), but the videos in the sidebar, the ones I continued to click on, began to get considerably less innocent.

I kept going. Something was pulling at me; and while a part of me knew that my mom would be very upset if she saw me, another part of me… wanted to keep going. And I did.

At first, it was just YouTube clips and videos. But then it progressed to other websites.  I began actively searching things out, sneaking onto the computer late at night when I wasn’t supposed to, simply so I could proceed with my dealings in secret.

Well, there’s the premise. Here’s the main point of this blog post in one simple statement:

I was, and still am (though to a lesser extent), a porn addict. Another lust-based addiction developed some time after that addiction began.

Those of you who are squeamish probably want to stop reading here. As I said, I don’t go into explicit detail, but I do go into the very basics. 

I regret to inform you that this isn’t a blog article with a happy ending—not yet. I’m still struggling, and I’m still giving in. I haven’t found healing or redemption yet.

That’s not what the point of this blog article is. The point is to confess, because this has been festering inside my mind for nearly four long years. Judge me if you will; and I’m sure some people are going to drop contact with me. But this needs to be put out there, if only because a select few that I can think of deserve to know the truth.

I didn’t tell anyone for two and a half years. The WiFi I used (sneaking onto the neighbour’s) stopped working after about six months, and since the only other internet access was in sight of others during the day, my little secret stopped.

So I had two reasons for not telling anyone—one, I had ‘stopped’ and I wouldn’t ever do it again (or so my childish mind told me), and two… porn addiction was a guy thing. After all, society said so, right? If only guys had this problem, what might happen if I, a girl, were to admit I had the same problem? I thought I must be the only girl in the world like this; something was seriously wrong with me, it had to be!

Well… I did do it again. It started, I believe (I’m not totally certain), right after one of my favourite singers and a friend of mine, George Donaldson, passed away.

You all heard about that somehow, I’m sure (most of you probably heard of it from me). Call me stupid, but the death of that man broke me beyond imagining. My entire life twisted upside-down along with my shattered heart—I became furious with God, and basically defied Him, turned away from Him.

And, I suppose, my subconscious turned back to my poison for solace—porn.

A vicious circle was put into motion. I would spend a few days indulging in my particular poison, and then I would sink into guilt. I would go a short while without looking at any inappropriate images or videos… and then it would start up all over again.

Around this time, another lust-based addiction surfaced. I hate the word, so I won’t use it—but basically, this was an addiction to self-stimulation, because it felt good. Yes, I know. I think it’s disgusting too, but I still do it. It’s a fight to stop at this point.

About a month after George’s death, the guilt and pain got to the point I started to do something I never thought I’d do—cutting.

I never went and I have not gone too deep—my knives are too dull for that. But I have gone deep enough and drawn enough blood to leave scars. I now spend most days, even the hot ones, wearing hoodies or long-sleeved shirts to hide my arms.

Well, at some point—I don’t remember exactly when; the last few months are a bit of a blur—I joined what is essentially an online dating site.

Most, if not all, of you know what roleplaying is; those actions written within asterisks, *like so*. The things I roleplayed while on that dating site started off small, but ended up too hideous for me to put here. The one good thing that came from that is that the guilt and shame I felt after the last roleplay session was so strong, I—with my mentor and my adoptive mama urging me to—left that site.

The viewing of inappropriate content continued, though.

Anyway… I’ve stopped looking at online content. For now. The other addiction of self-gratification continues. Am I trying to stop? Well… I’m trying to avoid the online content altogether. The other addictions (the one I mentioned above, as well as self-harm) will come later. One step at a time.

In case anyone is wondering, no, I haven’t turned back to God yet. I’m confused, and still angry with Him, for various reasons. I’ve tried to go back to Him, I really have—I just can’t yet, I guess.

So… that’s the real me. Or, rather, one aspect of me I hide behind my daily mask. I’m an often-suicidal porn addict with various mental disorders, people. That’s the only way to put it. And I’m the last person most people would have expected to turn out this way. A lot of people call me things like ‘innocent’ or ‘sweet’, or tell me they see the light of Christ in me, or that they’re proud of me.

When I hear that, I want to scream or cry or hurt myself or something. Because nothing is further from the truth. Nothing. Then again, it’s what I wanted people to believe—the mask I wanted them to see as real.

Why did I write this? Because I needed to confess (I’m just now deciding to tell my mom, for goodness’ sake), and besides that, a few people I know who will read this—especially new friends, and old ones who have known me for a long time—deserve to know the truth. And now they do. I’m just… well, like I said above. Just an often-suicidal porn addict with various mental disorders.

I won’t fault anyone if they drop contact with me, so if you feel the need to, or your parents tell you to, then do so. I won’t get upset; I completely understand. And those of you who decide to stay in contact… I will never understand you people, but I can’t say that I’m disappointed that you did decide to stay.

Until next time,

Theodora Ashcraft

About Me

Lately, there seem to be several people that have problems with me, without bothering to consult me first or come to me with their thoughts, preferring to talk about them to other people. This appears to partially find roots in that people seem to be unclear as to who I really am and what I think.

I need an ‘about me’ page anyway; so here it is. I'm just putting it up as a post for now. This isn’t my past, like the Road To Reality challenges I took part in. This is me, now; who I am—now.

~~

I am a 16-year-old girl from Washington State. I live with my parents and my brother, along with eight cats.

I have been officially diagnosed with depression and Generalised Anxiety Disorder. After extensive research on Asperger’s Syndrome, I’m fairly certain I could also be on the mild side of the Aspie spectrum, as I have about 90% of the traits I found lists of online.

I am a writer who seeks to glorify her God in everything she writes.

I am Pro-Life. Every human, born or unborn, deserves the chance to live—no matter what.

I am an animal rights activist.

My primary love language is physical touch. If a person wants to show me they love me (as a friend, sister, or otherwise), the main way of doing so is touch. Give me hugs, ruffle my hair, pat me on the shoulder. That is how I will feel most loved, even if it’s only a typed or roleplayed gesture.

(A note. When someone shows me they care about me in this way, I feel happy, safe, and loved. That said, I don't condone physical touch in an impure way. Things like what I mentioned above - hugs and such - are okay, as long as everyone is respecting one another's boundaries and following the standards set forth by the Bible on such things. If one is actively breaking Biblical standards or disrespecting boundaries, then that is absolutely wrong and unacceptable. It's a tricky topic, and one that I plan on talking more in-depth about in a later blog article - what you can take away from here is that by 'physical touch', I mean the kind given only in complete purity and Biblical love towards family-members in Christ.)

My secondary love language is words of affirmation. If I’m doing a good job with something, or you care about me, or anything of the sort—tell me. Let me know what you like about me, what I’ve done right; anything of a kind and encouraging nature.

My personality type wavers between ENFP and INFP depending on my mood.

I love to laugh, and I love to make other people laugh or smile.

I love being given nicknames; every time someone gives me a special nickname, it makes me feel happy and cared about. So do people calling me things like 'dear' and 'sweetheart'. It makes me feel loved.

'Princess' is one of my favourite nicknames; I really appreciate it when people call me that, because it helps remind me that I am a princess; a princess of the King.

I have been betrayed and manipulated many times; as a result, I find it hard sometimes to trust people. Please do not take it personally; just understand that I need some time to work through the doubts still clinging to me from the past. And please be honest; give me a reason to trust you. Show me that I can trust you. “Trust is built after a long time; it can all shatter in a matter of seconds, with one small word or action. It will take even longer to build the trust back up again, if it ever can be built back up again at all.”

I deeply care for my family in Christ, and love them as much as my biological family.

I’m normally a mostly peaceful person who avoids confrontation…

… but if you hurt, insult, attack, slander, or upset one of my friends or family members, I will very rapidly change from the peacekeeper to the warrior. You can do what you like to me, and say what you like to me—I will rarely, if ever, confront you about it, and only go so far as to write a blog post such as this, addressing things in a roundabout manner.

But if I perceive someone as a source of pain towards someone I love, that is something I will not let stand. Nobody hurts my loved ones.

I have limits and breaking points, just the same as anyone else. Yes, I will take any insults, disrespect, or hatred aimed at me for a very long time without much complaint or confrontation. But sooner or later, if it shows no signs of stopping or I have been advised by my mentor or another trusted family member—I will cut the rope tethering me to such things.

I believe in dressing modestly, to glorify God and to help keep my brothers in Christ from stumbling.

I wear a purity ring; this means, quite simply, that I will stay pure until I am married. This also means that I will have certain boundaries I set forth regarding any potential suitor in the future.

If one day God blesses me with the opportunity of marriage, I will only court. For my own safety of heart, body, and soul, I will not engage in casual dating in which the couple is not kept accountable by their family, friends, the church, etc.

If a man decides to pursue me, he will have to go to my parents and ask their permission; after, he will be required to talk it over with my mentor—this is because my father hardly knows me, or what God says on such matters. My mentor (a godly man who strives for Christlikeness in all that he does) knows my struggles, my fears, and my emotions. He can apply Biblical standards where my father cannot. The bottom line is—a man will have to talk it over with my parents and my mentor for permission prior to courtship.

All that to say—I believe in courtship and purity, and I will hold myself to those standards.

I believe in the Word of God, and that His Word is divine.

I believe that Jesus Christ died for all our sins on the Cross.

I believe that God loves us all just the way we are; but that He loves us too much to let us stay that way, and encourages us to strive for Christlikeness.

I believe that I am only a sinner saved by the grace of my Lord. 
~~

If you cannot accept what I just wrote—you cannot and clearly will not accept me. What I wrote above is who I am; if you can’t respect these things, you cannot respect me. I do not ask you to agree with all of my beliefs. I simply ask you to understand that this is who I am, and if you are friends with me, you have to accept that these are my feelings, beliefs, and standards.