Friday, October 13, 2006

Writing is work. Writing is hard work. It may not be back-breaking physically but it is mentally challenging. My brain feels like a construction worker at the end of a project. If you believe writers just sit around and type and have it easy, you're ignorant. I feel totally comfortable saying so.

Yesterday I spoke to one of the rare survivors of a suicide attempt by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. 98% of jumpers die. He's a statistical improbability. He's been through a lot in the 6 years since that fateful day. His life is a miracle, but it hasn't been an easy recovery from the mental illness he struggles with. Now he's back on track, has his life in balance and he is working to educate others about suicide prevention.

Just now I got off the phone with a fellow whose friend jumped less than two months ago. This fellow had purposely not gotten close to any new friends lately because he had lost a number of friends in tough ways. Then he started to open up and bam...the guy jumped. This fellow's body was never recovered. He had only been married four months.

Whenever the media reports on suicide attempts from the bridge, it draws copycat jumpers. Someone, whose identity I won't reveal, told me: "By writing about this, just know you're going to kill someone."

It's funny because the issue of responsibility is at the heart of this article. Should I feel responsible for writing about it? I don't know if I should, but I do.

Look for the article next week in The Pacific Sun.

I'm fried.

JPR

2 Comments:

At 1:50 PM, Blogger Susan Henderson said...

Sounds like a tough article to write. I'll be reading it when it's out.

 
At 6:02 PM, Blogger Patrushka said...

I think you may be preventing. Relatives or friends who read it may take action on time thanks to your article. I wouldn't accept that responsibility.
No-one commits suicide because someone writes or talks about it. They may just be expecting for an excuse and anything can do at that moment.

And I believe we all have the right to choose when we think life was enough. If we are brave enough... it's weird that others believe to have more right to decide on our own life.

 

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