The images of voices in ‘your’ head are always presented as cartoon-ish, animated nuisances when portrayed in movies, cartoons, etc…, but in reality they are anything but laughable. It is a conflict that most people deal with in any dilemma that overwhelms and takes control, especially when it comes to making a moral choice as in good versus bad. These voices can create havoc and be quite disturbing. Indecisiveness makes these voices more irritable and loud. To quell these speakers would mean that a decision has been made.
I know that I may never have all the answers as to why my son took his own life, and that is the most disturbing thing to live with for a mother. I live daily with speakers on each side of my head vying for a platform to influence me one way or the other. They whisper “Choose me…choose me.” “He did it because….,” “You should have known…,” “God forgives…,” “Why would God let this happen?”……so much war going on inside of me. What I do know is that the consequences of a mysterious disease was death; a death where others try to decide the whys of it all…the science behind it…the spiritual condition….the soul’s final residence. The only way to give rest to those questions is to come up with a reasonable answer that will chase away these voices. In my heart’s core is an answer that only God has given. His prevailing grace and loving voice has been insistent all along. It is “the peace that passes all understanding.” Phil. 4, 6-7
Upon lying in bed at night, waiting for sleep, I think of my precious son. When I awake, he is first on my mind. It has been like this for five years. I go through the day now with periods of peace where there is brief respite of my inner conflict, a peace that is very hard to explain. I do not think it is resignation but rather, a contemplative reconciliation that Brandon has died and we will be together again as promised by God. In the beginning, and for a long, long time that was not the case. My mind was battling itself constantly. The image of the angel and the devil placed on my right side and my left side, whispering in my ears; a tug-of-war that left me shell shocked and restless. It has been a difficult life with these voices provoking my sanity to give in and give up. I think that this may have been what it was like for my son or for anyone conflicted with emotions that are inherent in us all. But for some, the over-sensitivity is most unbearable.
One decision I have made is that the devil has not won. My son’s death sent him to the Father, the One in whom my son believed in all of his life. Even when contemplating his own death, my son had a sense that there was peace awaiting him. The voices in his head were compelling him in either direction and that in itself was too much. I know that conflict. I know it now more than ever. The struggle is a horrible place to be. While some may say that it was my son’s decision that caused it to be, I do not agree. My grief would have come no matter how he died. My understanding of that “decision” is that is was not his so much as it was the reluctant surrender of his weakened mind. The voices he ‘heard’ were an audible coaxing of a mental disturbance that was unbearable and undefinable. There is no sin in that. The mind’s emotions just are. The only predictable outcome is their existence. The slightest imbalance can determine the “choice.”
This is my reality and my answers that I can and must live with so that I can cope. I believe that the voices will always be trying to steal my peace, there will always be the battles but, the war is already won for me and my son and those who believe.