Today, Genevra Thorne is here to discuss suicide. A family member of hers is gone too soon, and she was brave enough, less than a month later, to tell the story and help others who feel suicidal and to raise awareness about it.
Remember, if you have a story, you can share it with us here.
On March 30th, 2016 my twenty-seven year old niece took her own life.
I never imagined those words leaving my mouth.
It’s like a curse word people want to hide under the carpet, pretend it could never happen to anyone in their family.
It happened to mine and the devastation it wrought swept through us like a surging wave and left us tearing at our hearts.
(I feel I should stop here and address anyone contemplating taking his or her life. If there’s a desire to know if your loved ones will care when you’re gone. Yes. Yes. They will. But it won’t matter to you at that point.)
Let me tell you a little about my niece. I’ll call her “Jolly” here—a name she’d chosen for herself. Maybe a veil to hide who she really was, maybe it was just who she wished she could be. She spent the first nine years of her life with her mother, who, according to Jolly, introduced her to demonic influences. By the time my brother won full custody, Jolly was an atheist. Darkness had grown like a seed, festering deep within. It split her in two, one, a girl who loved rescuing foal from the slaughter house and setting them free, the other, a girl who defied danger and grew reckless.
Diagnosed with Personality Disorder, she was medicated and seen by therapists for a few years. It helped for a while, but we now know from her journals that she fought a battle almost every day of her life. A battle to live. A battle she eventually lost.
We live with regrets. So many why hadn’t wes? But regrets are only helpful if we let them teach us to avoid them in the future.
It wasn’t selfish of her. She suffered a mental illness. She suffered so much that she believed death was the only way to make it stop. Suicide isn’t a curse word. It’s a tragedy. To the person lost in its mists, mental illness and depression are battled alone. Even in this century, mental illness is mostly taboo. It’s rarely brought into the light, the way other diseases are. And that needs to change. Lives depend on it.
Dying became Jolly’s fantasy and near the end, the culmination of darkness that enveloped her, had consumed her. Nothing we did or said helped her. She killed the person she’d grown to hate the most. Herself.
But I don’t want to end Jolly’s story with sadness.
Darkness lost in the final hour and light burst forth for a single moment when Jolly gave her heart to God the day she died. She asked Him to forgive her and wash her clean.
She was forgiven.
And now Jolly is finally happy.
I’m a NY Times bestselling author of Scotland-set historical romance under my real name Paula Quinn. I finally decided to publish my first love-fantasy/paranormal romance under my pen name, Genevra Thorne. I hope you enjoy reading my books as much as I loved writing them.
I live in the beautiful city of New York with my three amazing offspring, six little chihuahuas, three small parrots, two rabbits, and an occasional lizard. It’s a full house where love and grace abound!
Visit her on Facebook~ https://www.facebook.com/GenevraThorne/
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Visit her website~ http://genevrathorne.wix.com/genevrathorne