It was the stories. It was all of those people doing this in memory of someone they lost. Or, like me, in memory of the fact that we are still here instead of leaving others to tell our stories. In our day to day lives, it’s too easy to forget how many people are impacted by suicide each and every year across the country, and the world. The further in time I get away from that time in my own life, the easier it can be to put it behind me and forget about it. But, that is something I never want to do. As painful as it is, I want to remember what it was like to no longer want to be alive. When someone is in that place, I want to be able to say, “I’ve been where you are”, to recall all of the details, and be able to sit and understand. Because that is how we save people. Not by talking in hushed tones about depression, or mental illness, but by sharing the stories of people who survived and healed, and of those we’ve lost.
Let’s face it, if you spend much time considering those losses, and listening to those stories, it is impossible to walk away without realizing that we have lost a devastating number of people to this disease. Many more than some of the diseases we all gladly talk openly about every day. Yet somehow, maybe because we don’t understand it, or are afraid of it, we keep silent. After all, it might make someone uncomfortable. Even I have, at times, kept the details to myself in fear of making other people uncomfortable, or risk having them worry about me. The more I read and heard these stories though, the more I realized that I needed to share my story, if only so that anyone who reads it would know, and maybe even understand a little bit, what it’s like to be so far down into the darkness of depression, that you don’t want to live any longer. So, with that said, let me share my experience with you, now that it’s been some 25 years, and maybe now people won’t worry so much about me. (Warning, this is about to get dark, and we will talk a bit about suicide, though I will keep those exact details out)
Mike – I think you have a very good line on why some people don’t like to be touched – but also I think it has to do with the way they were raised.
Some people grow up in households where the parents don’t show any affection for the other in the slightest – they grow up not knowing how two people in love should act, not knowing how to show affection.
Personally – I love to have my husband reach for my hand as we walk together, I love to have him lean over for a quick brush on the lips – but I find it very disturbing to see two people in public sucking the tongues out of each others heads – if that is due to the abuse I went through or if that is just modesty I don’t know…
I guess to get a good line on this question – you would need to have a poll of those who have been and those who haven’t been and review the results – might be an interesting theory to research.
I only came across your site today – I’ve only read two posts so far, but hey, I have to comment! 😉
I guess the questions of touching depends a lot on how a person was raised, but I guess it’s also a very “personal” thing (my sister doesn’t mind touching as much as I do).
I was raised in Italy, where touching and kissing and hugging is something you do an awful lot of – and you can often find youself being hugged by someone you’ve only just met. So on one side, I’ve always felt like I had to *let* people touch/hug/kiss me, because it was the socially accepted way to behave.
BUT my parents have never been the touchy-feely with each other or with us kids, probably because my mother is Japanese, and in Japanese culture touching (especially in front of other people) is a big no-no. So I can’t remember ever being kissed or hugged by my parents.
I guess I’m rambling on here, but to get back to the point, I don’t like it when people I don’t know, or even aquaintances, or even friends – touch me or hug me or get too close to me, even just by asking questions.
I guess I’m a lot worse after I was raped, so I guess abuse does come into it – I will freak if a man touches me or even just comes too close for comfort.
On the other hand I *LOVE* and can’t get enough of, being touched/hugged/kissed by the man I love. I just have this huge need to be held, to be close – to get all the hugs and kisses I never got as a child maybe?
I wonder…
i think that it is a mutual feeling between all ages of people and it’s a feeling that cannot be changed. in some rare cases it can but most likely not. i also feel that i thought you were very brave to tell the world how you feel about men..good for you!