suicide is a choice to have no choice

I watched BBC1’s “The Road” last night.
It was about a post-apocalypse collapse of Society and the effect of a Man, his wife and his son.

I spent the whole program trying to empathise with them and couldn’t.
The wife committed suicide, rather than face a life of mere survival.
The man was all about survival but survival by avoiding all risk, knowing it meant eventual death by attrition.
The lad survived, despite his tendency to attract the attention of predator’s, by being adopted into a more successful family group.
I concluded that the characterisation was by a Wuss, or a woman, because it seemed so lame.
The thing that struck me most was the willingness of the wife to blow her brains out just because she saw no return to her earlier life of ease.
I’ve faced the black dog, so I can understand the attraction of suicide but not how one can act on it.
If I knew I faced a painful exit through lingering illness TB, cancer etc., then, OK!, that would be an easy choice.
A loss of lifestyle is not enough to throw in the towel.
Once you’re dead, you surrender all your options.You don’t count any more.
If you choose to live, you experience things, you have choices. I think the film of Sobibor illustrates this best. They suffered degradation and humiliation. They eventually got a chance to make another choice. Some died, some survived and some returned to a normal comfortable life.

In a way, the survivor’s of Sobibor had a better, fuller life than any South Sea Islander, whose days rolled one into another without significant difference.
The phrase “while there’s life, there’s hope” is the key, for me, as to why suicide is the last choice.
A choice to have no choice is a bad choice.

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