That which is re-experienced in a never-ending cycle eventually becomes too much. These are the words I use to describe the pressure exerted on the mind prior to committing suicide.
An event of dubious significance loops over and over again, causing fatigue and sadness for the individual who bears it. Eventually the event, or rather the image of the event, has rolled its wheel across consciousness one too many times and it can no longer be tolerated.
Never-ending cycles do not always result in death, though. I only just realised this as I lay awake in bed thinking about the person I have not heard a murmur from for three weeks. No, the ceaseless stacking of the same event upon multiple copies of itself is not a dead end.
We are not condemned to repetition but nor can we state with certainty when (or even if) the the tower of facsimiles will topple and provide if not always new insight, at least some form of release.
When this release has been earned - I say earned because it always comes at a cost of labour - then the event which gave birth to the release is always subsequently considered in a different light.
A conscious decision, then, to relinquish the person who expanded and filled my head like a gas for the last n days means that the circuitous internal repetition is broken, and a particular weekend re-contextualised. The Buddhist who proselytises letting go has been let go of - the irony!
