From Darkness to Light.

It will be hard to do justice to the experience of my participation in The Overnight, this Saturday and Sunday. It was an extraordinarily moving event, at times somber, mournful, joyous, hopeful, and ALWAYS inspiring.

As almost 1,200 people walked and 170 people crewed from sundown on Saturday evening until a beautiful dawn on Sunday, they covered 18 miles of hilly San Francisco terrain, raising over $1.7 million for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention’s mission of raising funds and awareness for suicide prevention.

As you all so patiently tolerate my emails and fundraising appeals, you know that I’ve done my share of fundraising. Never have I received such personal or touching responses to something I’ve participated in. People, who have personally struggled with suicidal notions, lost family, friends, lovers. I received a note from a stranger who received my email about the event and said that they had ideated suicide that very night, but read my email, found out about AFSP and the resources they offer, and they decided to seek help.

We hold SUCH power as people, our passions, our words, we don’t realize how we affect those around us. By the grace of God, my email made it in to the right inbox at the right hour, and I am so thankful that a person found hope rekindled by an email.

This is a powerful subject, with much stigma attached. One of my friends who joyously supported my AIDS/LifeCycle journey asked me to stop emailing (fundraising and personally) after the AFSP appeal—I must have crossed a line in some personal history. It certainly was not my intention. I apologized for making my friend feel uncomfortable, but I would not apologize for my effort or my appeal.

I will not undersell you or say no for you around my efforts. I certainly don’t expect donations when I email about my participation—I’m simply spreading the word. Awareness is as important if not more so than funds raised.

One element of the Overnight included colored Mardi Gras beads worn by participants & crew. White symbolized a child lost to suicide, red symbolized a spouse, other colors meant siblings, parents, close friends or other family members, green meant a personal struggle with suicide or depression, and blue meant one was supporter of the cause.

People were wearing too many beads.

Todd on my crew wore white beads for his fifteen year-old son who took his life three months earlier. Todd related the whole experience. He chose action over the black hole of despair. He was a strong, wonderful soul. My friend Donna wore purple for her boyfriend Danny who took his life twenty years earlier. Mara, also on my team, lost her boyfriend and a best friend.

I wore three purple strands, for Alex, Jesse, and my grandfather, John Tewksbury. I wore blue to symbolize support. And I wore green to show my own personal struggle back when I was twelve.

Stigma still surrounds suicide. My mom was told her dad had walking pneumonia and wasn’t allowed to attend the funeral. She didn’t find out till she was older.

I’m still not sure if Scott my brother knew about my considering suicide when I was younger (did ya Scott, huh, huh??). But I was a prime candidate, depressed, with a family history of depression leading to suicide, grieving for a lost pet, and being ‘different’ than everyone else—an all-too-common situation for gay/lesbian & questioning youth. I didn’t know how to stop the hurting. Luckily, the enormous love of and for my family got me through this dark period.

To be honest, it was quite liberating and a little terrifying wearing the green beads showing personal struggle. I know it shocked the bloomers off quite a few of you when I alluded to this in my last email. I know you’re tough, though, and you’re used to my over-personal, heart-on-my-sleeves missives. You will always get honesty from me, even when it’s less-than-pretty.

There is no shame in honesty or acknowledging the entire person that you are, even the dark turns and less savory moments. Everything that has come before makes us who we are today. The person reading this email, and the person typing this → ‘e’.

I have said this in regard to HIV and I say it again here. There is NO SHAME IN A DISEASE. We must talk about these issues if they are to be changed. Suicide is not weakness, selfishness, an inability to pull one’s self up by their bootstraps, or get it together.

In 90 per cent of suicides, there is a diagnosable though not necessarily diagnosed mental illness—depression, bi polar or other mood disorder. Suicide is the terminal outcome of these disorders.

One thing that was clear is people who have experienced such devastating loss want to talk about it, their struggle, their grief.

There was talk about people belonging to a club they wouldn’t want their worst enemy to have to join. There was common sense of compassion, shared understanding and a chance to begin healing. In commonality there was peace and hope.

Okay, back to the walk. Two moments pop out at me.

When I was directing traffic at California and Divisadero, I had a slightly inebriated woman (being kind here) spill out of Soulstice bar, saunter up to me and say,

“Are you for real? This whole hot, crossing guard get up? Is this a ‘Jackass’ episode?”

I told her it was and that she should smile at the mailbox as it was a hidden camera. She may still be there…

Another occurrence at the same corner, was when a gentleman of maybe sixty came up to me and said,

“Excuse me, may I ask you a question? What’s this for?”

I explained the walk and its mission.

He said, “I live across the street and I was upstairs in my pajamas playing my piano when I heard all the commotion and you telling people to walk safely and to hydrate. I had to put on my clothes and come see what this was all about.”

At that, he turned his coat jacket pocket inside out and gave me the $1.31 that was in there.

“It’s all I have; please take it.”

Awareness. It’s a beautiful thing.

So, my friends, that was my experience of a journey out of the darkness and into a new dawn of hope.

Thank you for supporting my efforts, by donating, by wishing me well, by reading my email and not sicking the hounds on me…

I am grateful for all parts of this grand adventure.

I’ve said it before, and I say it again,

Namaste.

I honor the God I you.

Love Craig

http://www.theovernight.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=extranet.personalpage&confirmid=10006388