Persisting Despite Awareness

Thoughts on suicide awareness, genocide awareness, and living despite it all

It’s suicide awareness season.

I’ve written about my experiences with suicidality before, about the two main thoughts that would plague me: I can’t, and I’m sorry.

By junior high and high school, I was hitting autistic burnout over and over again, without realizing that’s what was happening. I accepted the label of “depression” because it seemed to make sense, but I’m not sure I’ve ever actually had a depressive episode that wasn’t a direct result of autistic burnout.

I still have suicidal thoughts that flit through my head when I’m frustrated or upset, and I find myself wondering… if my autism had been identified as a child, would I have avoided ever coding suicide into my neural pathways? Would suicidal thoughts be a concept, something I heard about from other people rather than experiencing myself? Or are they something that would have found me no matter what?

I no longer struggle with suicidal ideation due to personal depression. But thinking about climate change and genocide definitely lights up those “Just give up!” neural pathways.

It’s hard not to feel despair when you’re aware and empathetic. Palestine continues to be genocided, with my tax dollars, no matter how many of my representatives I call and email. Climate change continues to worsen, no matter how hard I try to recycle correctly. There are so many big and awful things that are so obviously awful, and so completely out of my control, and it does make me want to just opt out entirely sometimes.

Thankfully, I have cracked the code to experiencing joy and contentment and functionality alongside awareness and grief and pain. (I am capable of this due to my own efforts, for sure, but also due to the many privileges that give me the stability to pursue my own joy and contentment. I doubt I would be capable of this without steady housing, a supportive partner, good friends, loving family, and work that fulfills me.)

Talking about suicidal tendencies tends to come with a call to individual action: check on your friends, meet them with grace, make space for talking about scary things. And that is important, for sure, but I think so much bigger than the personal these days.

I think about how many suicides would be kept at bay if people had access to affordable housing. How many suicides would never be considered if healthcare was affordable and accessible.

Our world is more than a bit fucked right now, on a scale much larger than any blog post of mine could address. We’ve been tricked into believing covid isn’t a big deal, and we are only starting to see the devastating impact of repeat covid infections on formerly healthy people. We’ve been tricked into believing Palestine isn’t our responsibility, Congo isn’t our responsibility, that it’s fine to drink Starbucks and buy iPhones despite those companies directly funding the annihilation of entire families, entire generations. We’ve been tricked into believing that self-care is personal.

Self-care and suicide prevention are so much bigger than the personal. Treating ourselves to a pumpkin spice latte is not the self-care we need—unless it’s from a locally owned business. Treating ourselves to the newest technology is not the self-care we need.

The self-care we need is looking bigger than ourselves, finding ways to take action that will continue the momentum of all the activists and change-makers who came before us, who are doing the work right now. The self-care we need is strong community.

I cannot convince Taylor Swift to stop taking a private jet everywhere, but I can build my life to require less and less time driving a car. I cannot convince Kamala Harris to stop sending weapons to Israel, but I can drink beverages that aren’t tainted with the blood of Palestinians.

Each cup of tea, each walk to work, reminds me that I am living a life in alignment with my values. Each sip, each step, reminds me that I can take action against the tide of indifference that tries to sweep us along for the benefit of billionaires who don’t give a shit about us.

I can’t single-handedly undo the culture of individualism that convinces new parents they should be fine on their own, but I can show up for the new mothers in my life. I can hold their babies so they can rest. I can do their dishes so they can enjoy their babies.

I truly deeply believe that if each of us individually make decisions every day that align with our values, rather than the values of capitalism, we can create a better world.

A world with no homelessness.

A world with fewer suicides.

Sometimes it feels harder to care, harder to be aware, like ignoring the big problems is a form of self-care. As someone who cares very deeply, who has felt the pull of giving up on life entirely, I couldn’t disagree more.

Lean into caring. Lean into it with every choice you make. Choose the coffee that funds a local family, instead of a distant genocide. Choose the commute that brings you closer to your community, rather than isolating you on the freeway.

There is hope in action.

And choose to talk about it, so the people around you who also care deeply know they are not alone, that we are in this together. We can build a better world, together.

Fuck the billionaires who think they can make all the choices for us.

We get to choose.

P.S. As with all things: progress over perfection. Everything in moderation. I’m no longer in the business of policing other people’s actions, of canceling people for going to Starbucks every once in awhile. One of the choices I make is to believe that everyone is doing their best with the information and resources available to them, even the people who are making choices vastly different from my own. I’m no longer interested in wasting my energy on judgment— I think my energy is much better spent on grace.

I’d love to hear about the choices y’all are making to bring about a better tomorrow! What does your ideal liberation focused day look like? Who do you listen to and learn from? How are you connecting with your community? Give a girl some hope, spark my future-oriented neural pathways by telling me about it!