Thinking back to my 7th grade when I walked out of art class telling them I was going to kill myself...
And really all I did was walk home for lunch earlier then usual. The cops meant me half way, and of course I ended up in front of the elders. GAWD!! I hated that shit. My older sister who was already married to a "wordly" guy did take it upon herself to secretly take me to a psychologist. But with her own family responsiblities could not continue paying.
I understand for myself those thoughts of suicide at such an early age was a desperate cry for some positive attention. I hated my life, hated the jw thing, just hate in general. Looking back I realize too, that it was being stifled in every area of my life. When a child is not allowed to associate and be a part of life, then death does seem welcoming.
As the adult I've had fleeting thoughts of suicide. I don't hold that against people because I havn't walked in their shoes. I do know for myself that life comes to an end all too swiftly and I want to be around for my grandchildren as long as possible. Besides, I've learned that there are solutions, period. It's just that suicide is not one of them today.
Depression can be a bitch! But I'm worth more than ending my own life by suicide. And I'm certainly not going to leave my grandchildren with that legacy. Those of us who have survived untold heartache and hardship show by example how it is turning a negative into a positive. But if the adult chooses such a course of action, so be it. I'm not their judge. I can only make that call based upon knowledge of who I am.
BTW, it's always a good topic because it reminds me where there's life, there's hope.
Cheers,
granny