My 10 Reasons Why
Yes, I know there is a TV Show. That's not what this post is about.
Warning: There is some truly heavy stuff in this post, so please consider your well-being before diving in. As per the usual disclaimer, I don’t endorse any sort of self-harm.
I’ve never watched the Netflix TV Show 13 Reasons Why, and I don’t plan to, but I understand that it’s about suicide. Creating a list of “reasons why” is not about justification, but more about dispelling these farcical illusions that people create around the idea that “it’s bad to kill yourself, so you shouldn’t do it.”
I mean, it’s bad to drink yourself into a stupor and kidnap children, but somehow identifying and explaining that has not stopped alcoholism nor child trafficking at any point in human history.
These Tweets appeared in my timeline today, and to be honest, when they did, I just kind of laughed – because, to me, they reek of a kind of moralism that comes from someone who’s never actually experienced self-annihilative ideation.
First of all, the idea that with this one act, I could therefore obtain the power to destroy others, makes it incredibly attractive. I think that’s what I think the second statement, in response, is getting at: to someone who experiences “powerlessness”, promising a “power over sentimentality” – even through murder – is inspirational.
Frankly, given how much I’ve been manipulated and wounded1, I feel perfectly justified in being utterly selfish; the idea of performing a short-sighted act that will not only not benefit me, but additionally, injure others is enticing. Thus, there is some merit to that second theory.
However, it also falls short. In my life, I’ve reached a point where the circumstances that send me straight into psychologically dangerous territory are those that are made worse by trying to address them. The framework of sentimentality versus power is just too juvenile to capture the impression.
Imagine being caught in tangle of brambles that progressively constricts around you. Trying to ride out the situation2 (e.g., meditation, somatic work, radical acceptance, prayer, love) is excruciatingly painful, because my flesh is pierced every more deeply, every second. On the other hand, trying to do something3 about it (such as becoming an expert Bramble Fighter™) may remove me from the circumstance, but I accumulate a set of grotesque lacerations that become scars; not the cool kind from a biker gang brawl, but the hideous kind that provoke vomit.
Anyway, enough analogies. I’ll just produce the list below, and request that you digest it.
You work tirelessly at something ostensibly worthwhile and earn the respect of others; upon doing so, you find out that you don’t actually respect anyone whose respect you’ve earned, which also sucks out the worth of the work you put in.
You feel extremely unseen and unheard, which prompts you to learn how to be an extraordinary communicator; only to realize the more extraordinary you become at effective communication, you are more unseen and unheard.
You become excellent at developing agency in your life to manifest your will; applying this agency to achieve increasingly impressive goals causes you to feel more powerless than you’ve ever felt before.
You express compassion toward those who need it, which produces a sense of self-worth in others, that they are grateful for; you discover that this gratitude from others reveals an enormous contempt you have for those others and yourself.
You feel an utter meaninglessness, so you learn how to create sources of meaning that others partake in, which they find edifying; since you’re good at this, they come to expect it from you as a matter of course, causing you to fall even deeper in to the despair of meaninglessness.
You decide to put faith in someone else’s god, just to try something different, and worship that god well – which earns you admiration – and at the exact moment of communion, you find out it’s an illusory god, filling you with disgust.
You skillfully practice intimacy with an individual, or a group, with the genuine hope that they may mirror you and possibly even heal some deep wounds; finding yourself utterly revolted at the vulnerability you engender in them.
You seek absolution, desiring especially to right certain wrongs you’ve committed in the past; and the precise second someone forgives fully and without expectation, you acquire burning resentment toward them.
You write out a blog post, desperately hoping it will put you into closer contact with your soul. Not only does it leave your further way from divine connection than when you began, you might have actually invited in some rakshasas into your soul.
I guess I was only able to make it to nine. The fact that I failed at ten can be my 10th.
Though to be clear, I’ve also been shown an unreasonable amount of love, grace, and kindness, too.
i.e., sentimentality
i.e., power
Your post opened something inside me. Not necessarily because I share the same reasons, but because I recognized the shape of them—the weight of contradictions that pull in opposite directions, the way effort and meaning sometimes hollow out the very things they seek to build.
It made me reflect on my own tensions—the frustration of only receiving what we work for when sometimes we just want life to choose us, the loneliness that deepens as we create meaning for others, the way striving turns into entrapment. I don’t know if these are the same as yours, but they feel like echoes of something familiar.
I hope it’s okay if I quote you in a post in the future. Your words stayed with me. Maybe that means something.