Перевод заметки про суицид
Решила показать заметку своей case-manager и, возможно, врачу. Для этого пришлось перевести ее на английский. Раз такое дело, пусть тут лежит: вдруг мне ее еще кому захочется дать почитать (ага, на досуге... про самоубийство... легкое чтение).
Про ошибки в английском не надо, ладно? Процесс перевода собственных текстов уже сам по себе неприятен. Так что фиг с ними, буду неграмотной иностранкой.
On Suicide, Manipulation, and Adequacy
This is one of the essays from my 3rd time in McLean. Sort of disorganized and, mind you, very far from scientific. An essay about suicide seen from "inside"; an attempt to explain... or to understand... or to justify myself. And again - it's such a bitter thought - to justify myself having tried to do it or having failed?
I've heard more than once that whoever really wants to end themselves just goes and does it; and if they fail then probably all they meant was to attract attention or to manipulate others. Sounds pretty logical, doesn't it? If one really wants to take their own life they are not supposed to inform others about their intention, and then slice across the wrist with a pocket knife. It obviously isn't going to work, it's just a gesture, isn't it? And when life sucks and one hangs or drowns themselves - how can they possibly fail?
The reality is... a bit more complex. Firstly, some happen to have nine lives (well, more than one anyway) and will survive anything. Secondly, Narcan was an unpleasant surprise; it kicked me back into this earthly world after a huge dose of oxy (and trust me, that wasn't gentle at all... in fact, it felt horrible).
Thirdly - and that might be the main point - people are pretty complex creatures, so things cannot really be that black and white. I don't know how suicide in affective disorders works; bur usually it's something planned or at least something that has been on the background for some time. Hence, on the one hand we have the urge "to die, to sleep"; and on the other hand we have fear of death and an instinct for self-preservation.
it's scary. It's really, really, immensely scary. It feels like there should be at least some ways out left: a hint given to someone or a pack of pills left where it can be noticed. At the same time the urge to go is strong, too, and the way to do is rather efficient. A sort of Russian roulette...
One more thing... And it's very hard to explain... A witness. I shall cease being, I shall be no more, and I shall not see it. But this is important! In fact, it's the most important thing, the most important event in my life, for me - me that at this particular moment is the center of the universe, the axis, atound which the entire world spins (Camus explained it all much better and in more detail; he's definitely more eloquent, isn't he). Someone must notice. Someone must witness. Even if the reasons for taking one's own life are guilt for everything, including global warming, and burning self-hatred. Well, someone is supposed to understand and prove it, so that later on people wouldn't shrug and say, "That was stupid..."
Most of the time we don't think in a linear fashion; our wants and needs at any given moment are numerous and sometimes conflicting. And every time we have to make a choice. Add emotions and instincts to the mix, and an incredibly stressful situation (killing oneself tends to be pretty stressful, I suppose) - can we make the right choice? Is the decision sane and adequate? Is the person taking a handful of pills sane and adequate? Is this person really me? Even if the answer is "yes", it's still scary.
By the way, multiple attempts might be steps towards overcoming the fear of death. Or at least getting used to it. And, maybe, tricking the instinct for self-preservation: look, it didn't work last time, so it shouldn't be dangerous, right? Well, and sometimes something fails for merely technical reasons. Oops.
Even if someone actually did it, if the task was completed successfully - I don't belive there was no doubt at all. It's just that the want to stop pain and the urge for self-destruction was stronger. And yet... There might have been fear and pissibly hope. And how many of those who are gone tried to give hints, leave breadcrumbs for others but no one noticed, stopped, helped..? We'll never know. But maybe quite a lot.
The conclusion is... There should be a conclusion, right? Frankly, I have no idea. Same old thought of human illogicalness and inner contradictions, fragility and power, stupidity and cunningness. A view from above and aside. A view from inside. An attempt to explain, or to understand, or to justify myself. An attempt to forgive myself - for having tried to do it and having failed.
I want everyone to judge not, and not be judged. If so, why do I judge and punish myself..?
Про ошибки в английском не надо, ладно? Процесс перевода собственных текстов уже сам по себе неприятен. Так что фиг с ними, буду неграмотной иностранкой.
On Suicide, Manipulation, and Adequacy
This is one of the essays from my 3rd time in McLean. Sort of disorganized and, mind you, very far from scientific. An essay about suicide seen from "inside"; an attempt to explain... or to understand... or to justify myself. And again - it's such a bitter thought - to justify myself having tried to do it or having failed?
I've heard more than once that whoever really wants to end themselves just goes and does it; and if they fail then probably all they meant was to attract attention or to manipulate others. Sounds pretty logical, doesn't it? If one really wants to take their own life they are not supposed to inform others about their intention, and then slice across the wrist with a pocket knife. It obviously isn't going to work, it's just a gesture, isn't it? And when life sucks and one hangs or drowns themselves - how can they possibly fail?
The reality is... a bit more complex. Firstly, some happen to have nine lives (well, more than one anyway) and will survive anything. Secondly, Narcan was an unpleasant surprise; it kicked me back into this earthly world after a huge dose of oxy (and trust me, that wasn't gentle at all... in fact, it felt horrible).
Thirdly - and that might be the main point - people are pretty complex creatures, so things cannot really be that black and white. I don't know how suicide in affective disorders works; bur usually it's something planned or at least something that has been on the background for some time. Hence, on the one hand we have the urge "to die, to sleep"; and on the other hand we have fear of death and an instinct for self-preservation.
it's scary. It's really, really, immensely scary. It feels like there should be at least some ways out left: a hint given to someone or a pack of pills left where it can be noticed. At the same time the urge to go is strong, too, and the way to do is rather efficient. A sort of Russian roulette...
One more thing... And it's very hard to explain... A witness. I shall cease being, I shall be no more, and I shall not see it. But this is important! In fact, it's the most important thing, the most important event in my life, for me - me that at this particular moment is the center of the universe, the axis, atound which the entire world spins (Camus explained it all much better and in more detail; he's definitely more eloquent, isn't he). Someone must notice. Someone must witness. Even if the reasons for taking one's own life are guilt for everything, including global warming, and burning self-hatred. Well, someone is supposed to understand and prove it, so that later on people wouldn't shrug and say, "That was stupid..."
Most of the time we don't think in a linear fashion; our wants and needs at any given moment are numerous and sometimes conflicting. And every time we have to make a choice. Add emotions and instincts to the mix, and an incredibly stressful situation (killing oneself tends to be pretty stressful, I suppose) - can we make the right choice? Is the decision sane and adequate? Is the person taking a handful of pills sane and adequate? Is this person really me? Even if the answer is "yes", it's still scary.
By the way, multiple attempts might be steps towards overcoming the fear of death. Or at least getting used to it. And, maybe, tricking the instinct for self-preservation: look, it didn't work last time, so it shouldn't be dangerous, right? Well, and sometimes something fails for merely technical reasons. Oops.
Even if someone actually did it, if the task was completed successfully - I don't belive there was no doubt at all. It's just that the want to stop pain and the urge for self-destruction was stronger. And yet... There might have been fear and pissibly hope. And how many of those who are gone tried to give hints, leave breadcrumbs for others but no one noticed, stopped, helped..? We'll never know. But maybe quite a lot.
The conclusion is... There should be a conclusion, right? Frankly, I have no idea. Same old thought of human illogicalness and inner contradictions, fragility and power, stupidity and cunningness. A view from above and aside. A view from inside. An attempt to explain, or to understand, or to justify myself. An attempt to forgive myself - for having tried to do it and having failed.
I want everyone to judge not, and not be judged. If so, why do I judge and punish myself..?