Choosing the way one dies.

I wonder how my sister’s life might have been so much better. If only she had obtained good mental health treatment at a young age. Maybe in her teens and 20s. We have a society in which there’s far more emphasis on physical health than on mental health. That’s a shame. My sister ended up an alcoholic and in several abusive relationships. She’s got her act together. But it took until a few years ago. And now she’s 72. So much of her life was wasted. Although, alcoholics will tell you that’s not necessarily true. That they had a good time drinking. Not my sister though. Her life would have been so much different, in positive ways, if she hadn’t been addicted to alcohol. But the past is the past. And she’s living in the now. As a recovering alcoholic. That’s a real plus. Coming before it was too late. So she may have a few relatively good years left. Better than not. I only wish she had seen a psychiatrist early on. To deal with her mental issues. Might have even persuaded her to stay sober. If only… That’s often the lament of many lives. If only, if only, if only. I would have loved to get my sister committed. To mental health treatment. Even against her will. But that’s not the way the system works. One is allowed the freedom to destroy one’s life. Even to commit suicide. Some alcoholics choose to do it gradually. Slowly. Over a period of decades. But it still qualifies as a form of suicide. And they know it. But there are trade offs in life. One can sometimes choose the way one dies. –Jim Broede