No one died. One of my sons has described me as having retarded unflinching optimism. I took that description as a compliment, even though I’m not sure it was meant to be.
I believe it’s all a matter of perception – what we tell ourselves. As long as no one has died, there’s always a chance that things can get better.
After a year of hospitalizations for depression, my son tried to kill himself one night by overdosing on prescribed medicines. As I sat by him on his bed, trying to keep him awake and talking until the ambulance arrived, something happened that forever changed me. My son cried, looked me in the eyes, and begged me to just please let him die. Even though I love my son dearly and would give my life for his without hesitation, I considered his plea. I actually considered it. For a moment, I wondered if I should let him die. We had spent the last year in countless psychiatric hospitals. Each new hospital and set of doctors would completely change his meds on arrival. There were times when I visited that my son would be so drugged he could not even sit up. – he just laid there and drooled. He was in such pain and nothing seemed to be getting better.
I’m sure it was there all along, but that night I became aware of a core belief. As long as no one has died, there is a chance for things to get better. And a chance is all we need.
And so it begins. The ramblings of a retarded unflinching optimist.