Please Stay Pretty Rainbow
Please don’t….
Don’t do it….
You are loved…
You are enough….
These are the things we say and maybe even scream when we hear someone is suicidal. We don’t understand: “why on earth would anyone want to cease living when the world is so full of excitement?”
We don’t understand the 12 year old boy with the gun to his head that realizes he’s gay.
Or the 15 year old that hangs himself in the attic because he realized he might be transgender.
Or the 19 year old that is standing on the ledge of a bridge staring at the void below. He told his family he is gay and his parents disowned him. He couldn’t cope feeling so alone. So he jumps.
What about the 17 year old girl that takes a cocktail of whatever pills she can find? She can’t cope because her dad saw her kiss a girl and hit her for being “disgusting.” She couldn’t bear to hear the words “whore” or “abomination” or “worthless piece of shit.” She cries as she clutches her stomach as the drugs begin to work and her life slowly fades in a painful cry for the parents she wish she had.
What about the 40 year old man who finally realizes he’s gay and can’t bear the burden to tell his wife and kids? Can’t stand the idea of failing this family because of who he really is. Breaking up a household and having to explain to his kids why daddy is moving out. Or maybe the mutual friends him and his wife have. How will they react when this comes out to everyone? What about himself wanting to be who he really is and yet cannot seem to find a way for that to be without so much pain to be inflicted. He can’t cope. He feels the despair drowning him. He can’t face his family with the shame he carries. On his way home, he crosses a bridge over a river. He turns the wheel of his car sharply right and the car bursts through the wall of the bridge and flies off and into the river below. If the impact didn’t kill him, surely he’d drown instead.
Stories like these happen every day in the LGBTQ+ community. Stories of rejection, shame, fear, confusion, hopelessness become the headline of the news the next day. People who never come home, wake up, breathe again, or share a smile with someone else. They never know the feeling of a hug again, or the reassurance of the words of another: “I love you.”
They are gone, lost. What they don’t know is when they choose to end their life, their pain may cease for them but it isn’t over. It gets passed to everyone else. We struggle to grasp the question: “why?” We tell ourselves “they had a good life” or “they seemed so happy.” However, no matter how hard we try to rationalize or find a logical reason as to why this happened, we cannot come to an answer. We ask other questions like “why didn’t they reach out?” or “what did I do for them not feel comfortable to tell me?”
Those of us that are depressed or even have been suicidal before know how awful that pain feels. It feels like a vast chasm of emptiness that cries out to you; to jump in. It is such an all-consuming and numbing pain or emptiness that we would never wish it on our worst enemy, let alone our loved ones and friends. Eventually, we can no longer combat such a thing alone, but we cannot also call for help as we don’t wish to share such a pain.
So we do the only thing we think we can do: end it. Cease the pain we feel and be freed. We’re so far down in the pit and it’s dark. We can no longer see light or hope. All we can do is…..keep going further down into the pit.
And then there’s you. Maybe you were cast out because you’re gay. Maybe people abused you because you’re transgender. Maybe the lack of understanding from a parent has pushed you over the edge because they don’t understand that you’re non-binary and just think you’re sick. Maybe you kissed a girl, and you liked it, but others didn’t. Maybe you were called names like “faggot” or “sissy” or “abomination.” You were hit with hate, apathy, and isolation. Maybe you feel alone and not a soul understands what you’re feeling. Maybe it’s time for you to cease living and make the pain of the endless void of suffering that goes on in your head stop. It may seem like you’re at the end of the rope and time’s out.
If you’re feeling any of these emotions and you’re reading this, I’m begging you: stay a while longer you pretty rainbow. It’s not over for you. It may seem like it is, but I can promise you it’s not. There are those who do love you; not as who you think you should be, but as you are RIGHT NOW. All of you. All the smiles, the sparkle in your eyes, the depression, your self-loathing, and whatever else you may be feeling (good or bad). You are loved for ALL your components. You are a creation of life that’s broken and busted, yet beautiful and marvelous. You inspire someone out there. They see you differently. They see a beautiful human being worthy of all the love you cannot believe you deserve right now (but you do). They see all the colors of the rainbow you embody and they marvel and how bright you are (even if you don’t feel like it).
Whatever it takes, beautiful rainbow, please stay here and keep adding your gorgeous light to the sky. Keep inspiring others that see you. Let them wonder what sort of Oz is on the other side of your rainbow. Someone else will find strength in your struggle. Get help if you can. If that seems intimidating, talk to a friend. Do whatever it takes to stay here. The night might seem dark and your light diminished, but morning comes and people will see your rainbow still in the sky and think “Thank God it’s still there.”
This can’t save the 12 year old who shot himself in the head, the 15 year old transgender person that hung himself in the attic, the disowned 19 year old that jumped, the 17 year old that overdosed because people told her hateful things, or the 40 year old that couldn’t face reality of who he was and what that meant would happen if he came out.
It can’t save any of them, but it can save one person.
YOU.
The Pretty Rainbow.
