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I understand the need to remove undesirable and inappropriate posts, but it can be very painful - especially if the part removed was your main point, or a deep thorn that needed removing. It only drives the thorn in deeper.
No matter how you broach it, some subjects are highly charged and effects everyone. Suicide is one that is particularly explosive. It would be nice if the moderators could understand sometimes we need to step out of the box in order to breathe. Sometimes we have to color outside of the white lines drawn for us.
My mother threatened suicide on a daily basis - she attempted suicide often. Dad was too busy traveling for work, my sister too busy with her activities. I was always the one who had to find help and clean up the mess. I wasn't allowed to speak of my fears - I wasn't allowed to cry.
Timing is everything.
Third Grade: I went to school one day worried sick about mom. She had gone off on one of her tangents the night before and promised to kill herself the next day..."just you wait and see!!!" were her last words to me that night.
I walked into class all disheveled - hadn't slept, even forgot to button up my dress. My teacher gave me a dirty look and spit out - "What's the MATTER with you!" I told her I was afraid my mom was going to die. She burst out laughing and said "What do YOU know about DEATH little girl!" Then she laughed some more and went back to her desk.
Later in the day, she caught me staring at the clock. She banged down her stick, screamed out my name, and warned me every second that goes by is a second closer to my death - then forced me to stay late after school. She didn't know I was trying to prepare myself for the grisly scene I might have to clean up when I got home from school. My teacher didn't know it was MY job to keep her alive while dad was off at work trying to keep a roof over our heads.
From that point on, throughout grade school, I kept my distance from school, teachers, and people of authority. No one could help me. Some tried, but they only dressed me up like a puppet, stuffed food down my throat, or read to me from books. I didn't have time for beauty pageants, talking rabbits and jolly old fat men. Even THEY knew it wouldn't help me or keep my mother alive - what they didn't know was it made my entire family feel even worse.
That was just school. It was even worse in church and out in the streets. The only people who could help me had no time for me. They were too busy burying their heads in books, TV screens, playing games, and medicating themselves into oblivion.
Where should a little girl like that go? To whom should she turn to for help?
Just thought I'd throw that out there - I wasn't trying to spit. Hope it doesn't need cleaning up.
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