Richard D. Cole

Grief Comes in Waves…

Recently I was chatting with a young mother whose baby died in her arms shortly after being born too prematurely to survive. I check in on her every few days and I told her that grief comes in waves… That she shouldn’t be surprised if she feels better one day, or for a few days, and then the agonizing pain returns. I warned her that this will happen again and again, and may never end; the hope is that the period of time between waves will grow longer and longer as time goes on.

I should listen to my own words. I woke up this morning around 5AM and had a really nice conversation with a young man who has reached out to me because of this blog from South Asia. After showering and having my 2nd cup of coffee I went down to my office with the idea of editing some photos. I turned on my music app and a song that I love but had not listened to in a while came on… by the 2nd or 3rd bar I was in tears. The tears just welled up in my eyes and I could feel my heart expanding in my chest to the point it felt like it would burst. Then the tears just flowed.

The gut wrenching wave of grief struck me out of the blue and I felt like I couldn’t breath. It felt as if it took all of my bodies will to make my heart beat each beat. My brain was awash in sadness and of course, me being me, my initial response was to wish that I were dead. I wasn’t acutely suicidal or in any imminent danger to myself… I just wanted the pain to stop and my old “stand by” reaction to this type of stress is wishing I would just die.

The song was “Forever Young” by Alphaville…

I love this song… I have since it first came out… but it reminds me of Lena. This morning, out of the blue, when hearing this song all of the hurt Lena’s leaving me… pushing me out of her life… and the lives of her children who I helped raise for 8 years… all of that soul crushing, heart breaking pain came rushing in as if it had just happened all over again.

I recognized the stress for what it was and immediately turned off the music and forced myself to run some errands. But the “wave” didn’t stop when I turned the music off. Driving felt almost surreal as I wasn’t aware of consciously deciding to turn the wheel a certain way or press the gas or break… I was kind of on auto-pilot. I still felt like just breathing was taking all of the energy that my body and mind could muster. This lasted for more than an hour! Some quacks would call it a panic attack… but I would not. It was a grief wave.

As I am writing this, now 8 hours later, I am listening to “Forever Young” on repeat and I can feel those feelings without letting them push me to that “wish I were dead” spot and helping me write this post. It never ceases to amaze me how certain songs can provoke certain responses… and as time passes the invoked feelings can change. In the months prior to marrying Lena, I listened to this song alot and thought of it as a happy song. Now different verses of the song provoke very different feelings.

Prior to the marriage the first verse spoke the most to me and it rang as youthfully hopeful to me…

Let’s dance in style, let’s dance for a while
Heaven can wait we’re only watching the skies
Hoping for the best, but expecting the worst

Now, almost 9 years later and fully knowing the whole marriage was a lie… that I was used and abused and then thrown out like a dead work horse… this verse rings truer to me…

It’s so hard to get old without a cause
I don’t want to perish like a fading horse
Youth’s like diamonds in the sun
And diamonds are forever

I have promised myself that I will NOT kill myself over Lena. I just won’t give her that satisfaction. I probably will kill myself some day, but not over her!

Happiness Comes in Small Doses

When I first brought Dutchess home Dukie would not play with her no matter how much she tried to instigate with him… Even when she punctured his neck twice!. Now that she is growing they play like this every day outside. Watching these two play is one of the highlights of each day. It brings me such joy. Dukie is so gentle with Dutchess and I haven’t had to reprimand him even once. He seems to instinctively know her size and how rough is enough. I love these two hounds with all my heart ❤

What Will It Take For Us To Wake Up?

I had suicidal ideation by the age of 10… meaning I was feeling sad, lonely and severely stressed and I saw my eventual death as an end to and preferable to the daily struggles I faced. But, even with suicidal ideation, or ideas of preferring death to life… it never occurred to me to actually end my life at the age of 10. My embracing the idea of death at such a young age use to put me as a far outlier in terms of society and how children thought and felt. Today we have 10 year old kids actually committing suicide.

Allison Wendel, age 10, committed suicide.

Two days ago it was reported that a 10 year old girl was found dead after committing suicide. Read that again… a 10 year old girl was found dead after committing suicide. Bullying is rumored to have played a role in her suicide. Suicide is the second leading cause of death for teenagers in the United States.

https://www.fox5dc.com/news/10-year-old-girl-dies-by-suicide-in-santa-ana-prompting-police-investigation-into-bullying-rumors?fbclid=IwAR0O5mPz9_goWiU-MR2k-DtomndaWFjK7Z0iq0mhw2093dnud-wIY33eGH8

This 2010 CDC brief lists suicide as the 3rd leading cause of death for teens in the US behind homicide and “unintentional injury.”

https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/products/databriefs/db37.htm

By 2017 suicide had surpassed homicide to become the 2nd leading cause of death for teens in the US.

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2019-10-17/suicide-rates-for-u-s-teens-and-young-adults-on-the-rise

The suicide rate among people ages 10 to 24 years old climbed 56% between 2007 and 2017, according to the report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
https://www.wsj.com/articles/youth-suicide-rate-rises-56-in-decade-cdc-says-11571284861

This country needs to wake the fuck up! We need to realize that despite all of our “modern advances” children are just as cruel, if not more so, than they have always been. In fact, some of these so called advances probably play a significant role in the increased suicide rates of teens… Specifically I am referring to social media. When I was a kid we may have had to deal with a bully in a certain class or during recess, but when we went home the bully wasn’t there. With the advent of social media the bullies can be present 24/7 creating an inescapable stress bomb that pushes many kids to killing themselves or killing others.

Bullying isn’t the only ill of social media. Children today become obsessed with the number of “likes” they get on Instagram. Imagine thinking of killing yourself because you didn’t get enough likes on a photo… WTF? The social pressures created by social media are huge and potentially deadly.

We as a society also need to finally admit that the current medical model for depression and suicide just doesn’t work. Taking a little yellow pill isn’t going to fix what’s wrong despite this messaging from Big Pharma for the past 30 years. Doctors and pharmaceutical companies have gotten rich off of our misery and what they offer DOES NOT WORK!

Neuroscientists who study suicide and depression have known for 10+ years that SSRI “antidepressants” do not work. There have been books and numerous articles published about the false claims made by SSRI manufacturers. There have also been numerous articles written about things that do work, or at least work better than SSRIs… such as working out 3x a week. Yes, working out for half an hour 3x a week works better than taking an SSRI if you are depressed.

For Depression, Prescribing Exercise Before Medication
Aerobic activity has shown to be an effective treatment for many forms of depression. So why are so many people still on antidepressants?
https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2014/03/for-depression-prescribing-exercise-before-medication/284587/

Here is an interesting article from the Mayo Clinic about exercising and depression/anxiety…

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/depression/in-depth/depression-and-exercise/art-20046495

There is much more that is wrong with the current medical model of suicide and I will continue to discuss this in my next post… but for now, we as a society need to decide if we care that our children are killing themselves at an alarming and ever increasing rate… and if we do care and want to change it, we as a society are going to have to face some hard truths and fight powerful entities that have made alot of money off the current model.

I’m a Love Chameleon

I was speaking with someone today and mentioned that I had a loose plan to kill myself around my 60th birthday in the year 2031. They asked why and I told them that I had given it a lot of thought and that with the confluence of my declining physical health and the fact that I have enough money to just get by for about 10 years… It seemed logical to me. This person knows me a little and said that I had so many talents and why didn’t I find some way to earn some more money and that my physical health wasn’t bad enough to kill myself over. This person didn’t say it in a judgmental way and I thought about it the whole way home and some more tonight.

I am not one of those people who think that all life has inherent value; I never have been. I think quality of life is more important than how long someone lives. I was standing on my deck smoking and I was asking myself why I have never been afraid to die. I also found myself pondering what I am here on this earth for. I thought about my “talents” and it occurred to me that although I may be an OK writer and an OK photographer and an OK public speaker… these have never seemed like life-worth-living pursuits. Now being on love on the other hand… that’s a different story. I’ve always been willing to give my all to love and have foregone suicide a few times for love.

I found myself thinking about my relationships and how I give myself over to them 110%. In a relationship I can be a chameleon… in that I tend to end up liking things my partner does and doing things they do — even if I wasn’t interested or if it isn’t particularly healthy for me. For example, the last woman I dated, April, smoked and I had been smoke free for two years. April wasn’t interested in quitting and within a month or two I was smoking again. I’m the same way in bed… I am very willing to accommodate a wide range of bedroom activities to please my partner. That’s when I came up with the idea that I am chameleon like; reflecting back to my partners what they want or are interested in, at times to my detriment… such as when Lena asked me to move to Rivertown full time. I moved without hesitation and created the life that she said she wanted, even though living there was very detrimental to my mental health and even though living there in her “normal life” was very demeaning to me as a person.

So, now that I am single, where does that leave a chameleon? I feel like a chameleon that has been placed on a blank piece of paper… with nothing to reflect back and no goals. The psychobabblers out there will immediately say that I am co-dependent. OK. Maybe I am. So what? I am 48 years old and admit that I am a bit fucked in the head. I have been through thousands of hours of therapy and the statistical likelihood of me changing this core part of my personality at this point in life is basically zero. The greatest joys in my life have come from loving a woman 110%… Is that so bad?

Open Talk about Mental Illness and Suicide

My next open and free public talk on issues of mental health, PTSD, bullying, suicide and the stigma of mental illness will be October 24th at 6:30 PM at the American Legion Post 323 in Granville, NY.

Let's have an honest and open talk about suicide.

OK On the Outside, But Inside…

Watching the walnut limbs swaying in the wind.

Yesterday was a very hard day for me. I have been trying to work on my book a little each day. Yesterday morning I was writing about a relationship I had where I was repeatedly lied to, used and manipulated… much to my significant detriment.

As I was writing I found myself getting angry… muttering things like, “Fucking Bitch!” or worse. However, in typical fashion for me, my outward anger quickly turned into inward anger… anger at myself and feelings of wanting to hurt myself. I had errands to run after writing which had me driving more than 80 miles from here to there.

As I was driving and interacting with various people I looked fine on the outside. I drove the speed limit. I wasn’t driving erratically. I smiled at people when I met them in stores and asked them how they were. On the outside I looked perfectly “normal.” But on the inside… I was dying, or wanting to die or hurt myself. I had thoughts of burning my arm with cigarettes, or cutting my arms with razor blades, or crashing the car, or asking a friend to literally beat the shit out of me. Externally induced physical pain is much easier to “process” and heal from than the emotional devastation I was feeling. A physical bruise heals… my heart, not so much and certainly not nearly as quickly!

So why write about this? Because much of the stigma of mental illness comes from the fact that it is “hidden.” Most of the time it’s an internal condition unlike a broken arm or even cancer that can have visible symptoms. Someone can look perfectly “normal” on the outside but truly be struggling to hold on to life on the inside. You never know what someone is feeling inside by their outward appearance… so maybe cut someone a break once in a while.

Reach Out!

World Suicide Prevention Day Meme — Meme from “Loss of a Loved One to Suicide” Facebook support group.

Today is World Suicide Prevent Day. Despite all of the press about suicide rates going up… they continue to rise. 🙁

If you are feeling suicidal, depressed, lost or just down… Reach out! I am always here to talk, chat online and help in any way that I can. There are other people who will also help. I know you often feel alone, but you are not. You are NOT alone. I have been there. I know the feelings of giving up and just wanting to go to sleep and never wake up.

A year ago I was featured in an NBC Today show piece on survivors of suicide. You can watch and read the entire piece here….

https://www.today.com/specials/suicide-attempt-survivors?fbclid=IwAR3oPMo_RPaZTW9MuwXbVKhBT4i3NrFApRRt6DLRqPyk6ocffW-LZrPgU6Y

Goo Goo Dolls “Iris”

In November of 1998 I listened to this song for 3 days straight before shooting myself through the heart with a 9mm handgun. I had to “bleed just to know I was alive.” Obviously I am still here and can’t wait to see the Goo Goo Dolls live for the first time this Friday at SPAC! #GooGooDolls #SPAC #bleedtoknowimalive

Iris, written by John T Rzeznik

And I’d give up forever to touch you
‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be
And I don’t want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
And sooner or later it’s over
I just don’t wanna miss you tonight

And I don’t want the world to see me
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s meant to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive

And I don’t want the world to see me
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s meant to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am

Mental Illness is a Thief

Sitting here this afternoon, needing to fill out legal paperwork for my divorce, I found myself thinking of all of the things that have been stolen from me by mental illness. Mental illness is a silent shrewd and cunning interloper that steels into our lives and before we realize what’s happening, it steals from us. Mental illness steals opportunities, stability, family, friendships, love and sometimes, even life itself. Let me clarify that for the sake of this writing I am not using “mental illness” in a clinical sense with exacting definitions and diagnoses. I am using the term to refer to deep psychological issues that seriously affected the people I am writing about; some have had actual mental illness diagnoses and some have lived their lives without an official diagnosis.

I was born into a family with mental illness. So, from the start, any chance of a “normal” childhood was stolen from me. My parents’ mental illnesses made them incapable of dealing with the stresses of life and love, and made them not able to care for or love me in the ways that I needed.

The combination of my “issues” and my mother’s “issues” led to us not having much of a relationship the first 35 years of my life. As a little child I didn’t feel loved by my mother and we grew apart. When my parents divorced, I chose to live with my father and his third wife. My mother and I didn’t start to be close until about fifteen years ago. Mental illness stole thirty-five years of a mother-child relationship.

My father also suffered from mental illness and this greatly affected me as both a child and an adult. As a small child I idealized my father and didn’t see his illnesses for what they were. I followed in his footsteps; in many ways to my own detriment. As an adult I saw his actions through the lens of accepting that he was mentally ill, but that did not make his actions and inactions hurt less. When I moved in with my father and his third wife, she told me, “I married your father, not his children.” I was fourteen years old. Natasha’s mental illness led her to being a cruel interfering step-mother and my father’s mental illness caused him to accept her horrible behavior towards me and my brother. The nature of the relationship between my father and his wife allowed mental illness to steal my father from me the last fifteen years of his life.

By the time I was a teenager my own mental illness was in full swing and often led me to acting like a total schmuck. In my lifetime there has only been one woman who truly loved me unconditionally, my high school and college sweetheart, Shannon… and I treated her horribly and eventually permanently broke up with her. I was a dick. Period. I have apologized to her and she has very graciously accepted my apology and we are now good friends… but my mental illness stole the only woman who may have ever truly loved me… loved me for me without trying to change me or “fix” me.

When I was twenty three I married my first wife, Ava. Like all people, Ava had some issues, but nothing that I would say elevated to the level of being a mental illness. I think… or I would like to think, that she did love me. In some ways she tried to save me/change me. The marriage fell apart mostly due to my acting out because of my mental illness. At that point in life I was very difficult to live with due to my depression and anger issues. At this point in life I don’t harbor any ill will towards Ava for divorcing me. I’m not thrilled with knowing that she cheated on me and ended up marrying the guy… but I was a lunatic at the time and understand her behavior. Mental illness stole my first wife from me. With the loss of that marriage I also lost our home in Georgia and everything that connected me to life. If I had been able to be a different person back then and remained married to Ava, I would have had a much better chance at a “normal” life. It was during the divorce process that I shot myself in the heart with a 9mm handgun and six months later took 900 pills.

After my “should have died” suicide attempts I ultimately ended up at The Austen Riggs Center in Stockbridge, MA. Austen Riggs is like no other place that I have ever heard of… it’s an open campus mental health hospital, which means patients are never restrained and can and go as they please. While I patient there I had several romantic relationships with other patients. One of them, Barbara, shot herself in the head with a rifle up on a hill in Stockbridge. Barbara was a few years older than me. She was a lawyer from an extremely wealthy family in California. She was beautiful. She was brilliant. She was an amazing person and had everything going for her. Mental illness stole this incredible being from the world.

The CEO of Austen Riggs while I was there was a despicable human being, Dr. Edward Shapiro. This man’s hubris was so elevated that in my opinion he was mentally ill. Again, in my opinion, his ego directly played a role in Barbara being able to kill herself. His mental illness allowed for Barbara’s mental illness to end her life. I pray Barbara’s needless suicide haunts him.

Due to ongoing legal issues (divorce) I can’t really write about my marriage to Lena right now, let’s just say that we both had serious issues that led to the marriage not working and yet again, mental illness stole love, family and home from me.

At the beginning of this year I started dating a woman, April. April is a nurse and seemed to be a very caring and loving woman. When things were good, they were great. But April suffers from severe insecurity, specifically about infidelity. I have many female friends. Several of those female friends are ex-girlfriends. April’s insecurity led to her acting in very antisocial ways: threatening to beat up women I interacted with, threatening to kill someone and a phone call in which she cursed out an ex, Aubrey, that I have been friends with for more than fifteen years. April accused me of keeping these ex-girlfriends “on the side” in case we didn’t work out. Nothing could have been further from the truth. After the phone call, April told me that I had to choose between her and this woman who was nothing more than a good friend to me. She wanted me to call up Aubrey and tell her that I would never speak to her again. I refused… and April stormed out of my life. April’s mental illness stole another love for her and for me. April wasn’t “the love of my life,” but I did love her and felt very content with her. It was the first time in my life that I loved someone, without being “crazy” in love and felt content with that. This was and is a huge deal for me that I will write more about in the future… I thought it was a much healthier form of love, at least for me. Mental illness stole that cherished contentment and love from me.

There are many more examples from my own life that I could write about regarding the thefts committed by mental illness, but these were the big ones that came to mind while procrastinating filling out boring legal forms. The point is that mental illness effects many people in many ways and causes all kinds of loss… real loss… that hurts… and sometimes… kills.

Sedated Nation

Twenty twenty twenty four hours to go
I wanna be sedated
Nothing to do, no where to go o,
I wanna be sedated

I Want to be Sedated, The Ramones (1978)

Most people are familiar with the chorus of “I Want to be Sedated,” perhaps the most famous song of punk rock band The Ramones. This song debuted in 1978 and it seems that America took this on as the new national anthem. Joey Ramone wrote the song in response to the band being overworked by an overzealous manager. Ramone claimed to have worked 360 of 365 days that year.

What is it about life in America that has people so desperate to tune out? Drug and alcohol abuse continues to climb. Suicide rates have gone up significantly in recent years. Why are Americans so unhappy?

Think about these facts: