A Man Who Wanted To Die

/ Lisa / 4 Comments

On a hot summer day, he tried three times. All alone in his little car, he swallowed a bottle of pills. Later, when the pills didn’t work, he tried stabbing himself in the stomach. Later still, he rolled up all the windows and waited for heat exhaustion, until he had silver-dollar-sized blisters on the side of his body that rested against the metal of the car door.

He survived.

You might ask why he wanted so badly to die. We never knew the full reasons. He had awful health issues though. They weren’t terminal, but made his life difficult to the point where he may have seen no way out other than death.

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I wonder if he learned how to love life again.

More and more states are passing ‘right to die’ legislation, which I am highly in favor of. It’s for those who are terminal, and allows them to pass with dignity. You know, that same dignity we allow our dogs and cats and beloved pets when it’s their time.

But for those who aren’t terminal, such legislation doesn’t exist. Of course it doesn’t. Because when you are in that deep, dark, isolated hole of depression, when that unimaginable weight is on top of you and you can’t rise up, you are incapable of making decisions. Such a person, like that man who so wanted to die, sees no hope. And yet, the right help, the hand held out, the words from someone who tries to understand, or just listens, can sometimes begin to lift that weight off another’s soul.

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Why such an intense topic today? Because I was recently reminded that we are coming up on a season that is difficult for many. Suicide rates climb high during the Christmas and New Year holidays.

So take care of each other. Be aware of your stress. Be kind to strangers. Ask for help. Ask for help for others. Don’t stay silent out of despair or fear. Don’t stay silent because of a sense of politeness or worry about offending someone. If you see changes in behavior, a withdrawing, anything that constitutes a flag, be blunt. Ask if they have thoughts of hurting themselves. Ask if they have a plan. Don’t leave them alone. Get help.

And if someone holds out a hand, take it.

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Words In Music

/ Lisa / 2 Comments

I just finished the first book in Rachel Caine’s Stillhouse Lake series. I gobbled that book right up even though I knew who the villain was as soon as he was introduced. The protagonist was so wonderfully drawn that I wanted her to fight, to win, to be strong. I’ve pre-ordered the second book. This one had a satisfying ending but left open something I didn’t expect.

At the end the author listed the music she wrote the book to. Isn’t that a cool idea? I knew a few of the musicians because she listens to the same kind of music my husband does, like Birthday Massacre. But it was an eclectic list.

I’ve mentioned before here that I like to write to soundtrack music. It gives me lots of background drama. I also like Celtic music.

I’ve recently discovered the soundtrack to the new King Arthur, Legend of the Sword movie, thanks to my son. The music is perfect for the current work in progress.

Briefly, here is the music I wrote Sunshine on My Shoulders to.

Caravansary, Into the Forest, and The Bell Tower, by Kitaro

I Don’t Believe and The Start of Something New by Chrom

Everything by Two Steps From Hell (basically the people who make movie soundtracks)

Aran Boat Song by Darol Anger

Bring Me To Life by Evanescence

Demelza’s Song from the new Poldark series

Cows On The Hill by Jay Unger

The Expanse‘s opening music by Clinton Shorter

Jewels in Indra’s Web by Jami Sieber

Katuman Kaiku by Turisas

The Robin Hood soundtrack – the version with Russell Crowe

Song For Odessa by Spare Rib and the Bluegrass Sauce

Beyond the Night, from the Stargate Atlantis series

Hey Little Girl by Icehouse

And any music from the Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter movies.

Obviously that’s a short list but I don’t want to bore you with more. You get the idea. It used to be, with previous manuscripts, that the music had to be instrumental. Lyrics distracted me as I paid too much attention to the stories within the songs.

But this time the lyrics actually faded somewhat into the background, and in some instances, like Song for Odessa, which is a ballad written for a woman we knew who died in an avalanche, the poignancy and loss in the lyrics added to the story, especially when writing about a character’s loss.

I imagine there are lots of writers out there who need silence to give their story space to be born. Not me though. With the exception of a couple scary scenes where I needed no music in order to hear if anything was creeping through the house, I like that background of music. It pulls up the emotions I need near the surface.

I also imagine this is true for all walks of life, not just for writers. What music do you consider your personal soundtrack?

Dog Dreams In Clouds

/ Lisa / 9 Comments

I have an active imagination that translates to dreams. I can even control them. I’ll think about a story I want to have a part in, and dream it. If I have a nightmare, I’ll lay there and think, ‘but if this happened, and that happened…’, go back to sleep and have a great story.

But one night I had an extremely vivid dream, even for me. Just a scene, really. I sat on our couch, squished against one end because my Irish Wolfhound, Strider, was also there. Wolfhounds take up couches. And beds. And floor space. And block the television and steal food from counters.

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And look you right in the eye. After all, I’m short and they’re tall.

In the dream, Strider’s head was on my lap and I was running my hand over and over his rough-coated fur, crying. Hard. Because he’d been gone for a few years and I missed him, but also because I knew it was a dream. I wasn’t going to wake up with my dog soul-mate back in my life.

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The dream stayed with me, just as vivid. His fur under my hand had been so real. The weight of his head on my lap. Those copper penny eyes looking up at me. Even now I get teary remembering the dream.

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Then came the hot summer day when I’d been working outside. That evening I knew I’d be sore the next day so I went out to the hot tub. While soaking, clouds moved in over the mountains. And there he was. This huge cloud shaped like a wolfhound. Like he leaped from the top of the mountain into the sky where the stars were coming out, his tail streaming behind him.

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I’ve never been one to see shapes in clouds. Someone will say ‘oh look, it’s a dragon!’ and I’ll think ‘looks like a cumulus cloud to me’.

A friend pointed out later that I was probably dehydrated. Hot day, sweating, sitting in a hot tub. Seeing things. I suppose she was right. But it reminded me of that dream.

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So I mentioned the dream to another friend. She said it sounded like Strider was finally ready to transition and had come to tell me goodbye. Well, that made me cry. Still makes me teary.

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Anyway, I’m pragmatic. I don’t believe in life after death. If anything, I think we’re bags of energy that dissipate wherever energy goes. I don’t believe in religions. I think they were man’s first attempts at creating a moral code.

But here’s the thing.

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That dream was so vivid.

And since then, I always see faces and creatures in the clouds. Lots of them. Even when I’m not in the hot tub, dehydrated. I find myself looking for them, silently telling them hello.

I think Strider is out there with them, running free.

 

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