Not In Silence Of Our Ignorance But In The Silence Of Our Prayers~

Alex Holyoake @stairhopper

Ever wonder what was that turn in the road that set you on your present path? Last you remembered your life, far from perfect, one could say actually not very good but to you, finger nails stressed, you were hanging in there. Having previously had many a days where you awoke head already fully submerged, breathing completely exhausterbated by the constant need to reassure others that “yes I am ok” when secretly you’ve always been trying to reassure yourself.

Over time you found several varieties of routines, like tools in your toolbox of survival, each day pulling the appropriate routine to get through that day. At times of excessive stress two possible three different tools could be called upon to get you through the day. You managed to have avoided the seven year itch; kink in behavior, excess in addictive habits and nothing that could be considered overly risqué.

On one of these many days, not being uniquely different from the other, something of seemingly absolute insignificance occurred and every possible tool in your toolbox vanishes. It could be that you spilled all the pills from its container on the carpeted floor directly in front of you. And though you can see each and every spilt tablet, like dots on a map of indifference, the distance between each might as well been their scaled distance on a global map.

Just reach down and pick them up comes the voice of the quickly fading logical part of your brain. But just as quickly, coming from somewhere between the very logic of just pick them up and the unexplained void of non-action, is an avalanche of expletives. At first not a word is spoken only the thundering violence in the now increasing madness that is the remnants of a lifetime of just hanging in.

A lifetime of lying to all those around with, yes I am fine. And for a micro second of time you can clearly see yourself standing on the very, narrow bridge that separates your quickly disappearing hold on reality and the impatience of the combination of every lie you have ever told yourself, every painful thing you have forgiven of others, every disappointment you have ever subverted with, I understand. There is a moment of absolute silence, the white light of heat, the flash of a lifetime gushing out of your mind like heated blood from a wounded jugular.

The final moment preceding never ever going to be you again fades slowly from the white light of peaceful acceptance to the irrationality of temporary insanity. It is a short lived battle for your sanity but even before the battle had begun you could hear the footsteps of the soldiers marching towards your gates. Now they are standing at the gates demanding your surrender. You are beyond the line of exhaustion; to be tired would be a vacation from exhausted. Surrender becomes the most rational of thoughts.

Surrendering to the madness that has always been there, the acceptance of nothing better to hope for, the elation of finally being able to let go without apologies becomes the most effective pain medication. Just spilt tablets on the ground; easily retrievable with but the very slightest of efforts yet they might as well have been points on the global map in terms of distances. For others it might have been just a voice saying “dinner”.

A single word you have heard for decades and never a single thought of or need for defiance. Still others it could be that most treasured moment of all, the “silence”. An unexpected moment of silence and your entire world comes unraveled like acid having being poor on your most precious of quilt. The most insidious of feelings is that of being trapped inside that body exhibiting only madness to all others yet somewhere deep inside you can still feel connected with your rationality but unable to explain its absence. Now comes that question from those having shared in your experience.


You must now explain, ”being in the “debts” of despair is not equal to being suicidal.” In fact your failure to allow me to express my feelings without guilt of fear of persecution is the very bridge that leads to suicidal thoughts. “A tribute to you my friends, you suffer not in silence of our ignorance but in the silence of our prayers”




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