Thoughts on recent events, Burning Man, and suicide

As a result of recent events, I’ve been thinking a lot about suicide.  On the other hand, I think about suicide a lot anyway; it is part of being a depressive.  (Please do not panic.  I am not in danger.  I do not have a plan.  I understand that the suicidal voice in my head talks crazy talk and I do not listen to that voice.  It will probably never go away, but I have learned to live with it.)  I’ve been thinking, too, about Burning Man and radical self expression, and why suicide and Burning Man go together, from a certain point of view.

I have no idea what was in Aaron Mitchell’s mind when he chose to run into the flames.  I can only see the content of my own head.  However, I can conjecture.  If Aaron was at all like I am, he had been dealing with depression for a long time.  He may have sought professional help.  He may have self-medicated.  He may have worked out lots of little routines to help him pass as a regular person in the world of non-depressives.

Some of those routines, some of those coping strategies (yes, including medication) could have felt like lots of little deaths.  One sneaky thing about depression is that it tells you that you are unacceptable because you are depressed, but since depression is at the core of who you are, there is nothing that can be done.  This is partly true.  At least for me.  Some medications eased the depression, but they also stole parts of my mind from me, some of my laughter, some of my creativity, a lot of my (meager, as it is) intelligence.

Then there is the societal pressure.  Count your blessings!  Then feel even worse, because you are still depressed!  You ungrateful wretch, you!

Instead, slip on this mask.  Say you are fine.  Maybe you need to nap more than other people.  Maybe you need to work out hard; strength might beat the Depression Monster.  Maybe you sometimes drink too much, hoping it will drown.  This, however, is just more little deaths.  This is hiding.  This is fear that you will be cast out even further if you are found out to be as sick as you really are.

Enter Burning Man.  Enter the costumes that reveal the true self.  Enter the environment that strips away the veneer of civilization and leaves the naked, sweating self open to be perceived.  Enter the rituals, the excess, the affirmation.  And the command to radical self-expression.

See it?  In that environment, doesn’t the one big death seem like true radical self expression compared to the daily mini-deaths of pretense?

I am not saying that Aaron made the right choice.  I can only imagine the kind of pain he must have been in.  I hurt for those who loved him and for all those who, knowing or not knowing him, tried to save him.  I am thankful that so many tried.

I wish he were not dead.  I wish he had found a way to be himself in this wide world.  So may we all.