“I don’t want to be here anymore.”
I’ve been hearing this phrase more often lately. I’m not talking about a literal determination to end one’s life*, but rather a whale-size disillusionment with the world.
When my spouse hears or reads yet another instance of overt and grotesque racism in our society, for instance. I’ve tried to be understanding of her position, one I will never fully understand, no matter how hard I want to or try, but it still makes me wince to hear it come from her mouth.
When she first said it a couple years back, I didn’t know what to do with it. At first, I took it personally. How could she possibly desire to leave this life, i.e., ME? After I surgically excised my ego’s narcissistic belief that everything in the world was about me, I was a little better at just letting it be, even while still not completely comfortable with the statement. Sometimes this world is too much. I understand that.
Just this past week, though, I heard a friend relaying a conversation he had wherein the other person said, “I don’t want to be here anymore.” My friend said, “I told her, ‘Honey, none of us want to be here!’” And then he laughed, and the group laughed, and the moment passed, but I sat there trying to take it in.
What was I to make of this apparent upward trend in general dismay about existence?
I get it, of course. We live in times I never thought I’d see. We seem to be revisiting ideologies and demagoguery so unevolved and outdated that their return is a sad surprise. The marginalized are more marginalized every day. The vulnerable, more vulnerable. How can happiness, contentment, peace, and self-actualization live in the midst of all the crapitude around us?
We’re tired of the cage of this era and ready for any freedom escaping it might provide.
A 1997 Italian film called Life is Beautiful tells the story of a Jewish man and his son who are imprisoned in a concentration camp during World War II. To protect his son from the horrors of the Nazis, the man pretends it’s all a game. They are simply playing, and there is still reason to laugh.
The movie is not really about the Holocaust, despite the setting. It’s about the strength of the human spirit to overcome obstacles to peace. It’s about salvaging whatever hope and joy can be found in the midst of trauma and war. It’s about hope, the hope every generation has held, that we have the power to build a better world for our children.
And, historically, we’ve been right to hope. The moral arc of the universe really does bend toward justice in the long run. Despots often reach their demise in bombed-out bunkers and international tribunals. The goodness of the human heart ultimately does prevail.
I can almost hear you say . . . “but in the meantime . . .” I know. I know. In the meantime, lots of shit goes down.
The times are tough, and people are suffering. More may suffer before this season passes. A lot is required of those who choose to stand in solidarity with democracy and hold the high watch for immigrants and women and the LGBTQ community. It takes equal doses of courage and compassion to do this work.
But we are up to the challenge. Just as generations before have answered the call, we have what it takes to meet the moment and direct it back toward justice. We have the strength of will and the strength of heart to make our world safe for democracy again. We have the fortitude and determination to return our society to one that values its diversity and is proud of its inclusion.
And I, for one, want to be around to see that day.
*(Note: If you need emotional support, call or text the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988 or online at 988lifeline.org)
Deb Moore 