When I saw this sunset a couple of weeks after my sister hung herself in her garage, the words ‘beauty persists’ arose from deep inside of me, something to tether my broken heart to. It’s been a resiliency mantra ever since. Her death had nothing to do with guns, but other kinds of suffering including the blind neglect of an overwhelmed and inaccessible healthcare system. She kept coming back to her healthcare providers to treat severe insomnia; they kept tweaking her medications and sending her home. Never suicidal or in a mental health emergency before, I believe she’d be alive if the hospital ER in Pokeytown, USA had admitted her for severe sleep deprivation when she went asking for help unable to tolerate endless wakefulness. There is a reason sleep deprivation is used for torture. It breaks humans down; it’s ceaseless suffering. It makes people crazy or want to die. Check.
What’ve guns got to do with it?
This morning I’m clinging to the sheets in a peek-a-boo game with the clock while my sloth-self is thinking: “Just five more minutes. Ahhhh.” My phone buzzes. It’s a text from a dear college friend. She’s sorry to hear about the shooting in Burlington, Vermont, the hub city I live seven miles outside of. I’m thinking, ‘What shooting!?’ while simultaneously checking the news feed. Finding coverage, my heart sinks. While taking a walk, three visiting…
