Starting From Here

 

There are no real start-overs, only start-from-heres.
― Richelle E. Goodrich

Yesterday was International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day. I noted it on this site, but other than that, I let the day sit quietly. What I did do yesterday, was head for the ocean.

I went surfing and I was riding a board that was given to me by a friend. The gift was lovely, kind, and very generous. It was also particularly poignant.

Twenty years ago, when my mother died by suicide, this same friend encouraged me to begin my healing journey by getting into the ocean. She taught me to surf, and this was the board she used while she taught me. A few days ago, my friend put this same board into my hands and said to me me, "This is yours now." 

When I received the board, the deck was covered in thick dark grey bumps. My son looked at it and cringed. "What are those?" he asked. You see, my son doesn't surf. Fellow surfers would know what the bumps were, immediately. Wax.

Surfers put wax on the deck so that they don't slide off the board in the water. It is ironic in some ways, that without the thing that keeps you where you are, you can not move forward.

Wax, when applied, is clean and white. But, each time the board heads into the ocean, sand begins to embed itself into the wax. After a while, the white turns to grey, and as time goes by, the grey becomes darker and more evident. In order for the wax on the base to be effective, it has to be applied again and again. The bumps become larger and darker every time we do this. Wax buildup on a board means that it will be even less slippery. And that's the entire goal. So, when I saw the bumpy grey wax on the board that was given to me, I didn't see a board that was ugly, I saw a board that was well loved.

Still my friend pointed out that I might want to scrape the old wax off. I agreed. I wanted to give the deck a fresh start. So I headed to my favorite surf shop. They had a little kit that included a special comb to scrape the wax, and a small cloth bag to polish the board after. They too suggested I wait for warmer weather.

But when would the weather be warmer? In the spring? Next summer? Five months from now? Six? I didn't want to wait. So, I was determined. I knew, things can be done. Even hard things. Even things that you don't believe you will get through. I knew.

So, on Tuesday night I took that board into my house. I set it down on my living room floor, sat beside it, and got to work.

It took me five hours to scrape the hardened wax off. At the end of the night both my fingers and my back were cramping. When I was done, there was one part of the board that remained a little grainy. It was at the very tip. I don't know the reasons, but the wax on the tip was harder and more embedded. I scraped at the wax for as long as I could, and then I decided to let the minor grey discoloration remain. If I scraped at it any more, I ran the risk of damaging the top of the board itself. Still, overall, the board was shiny and beautiful, all around. Even I was amazed when I sat back and looked at what my work produced.

And then, I took a deep breath and did the thing that was necessary so the board could carry me into the water. I applied new wax.

When I did this, the shine I worked so hard to uncover was clouded once again. The lovely colors were muted, and the scribbles of new wax were visible everywhere.

In other words, the board was absolutely perfect.

It's true, yesterday was International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day. But, instead of making a big fuss over it, I headed to the ocean and got in the water. At first I carried my new board. When the water became too deep, I put it down and hopped on, so that the board would carry me, instead.

~~~

Here is the thing. Other people might deem grief ugly or upsetting, but I see something different. I look at my fellow survivors of suicide loss and I see people who loved someone so much that the loss has broken their heart. That broken heart is evidence of love, not something ugly.

Some of us sit with grief that all can see, for years. Sometimes even, we sit with overwhelming grief for a lifetime. Still, the grief is proof of love. Those who don't understand how grief works, may never understand that prolonged grieving is not a sign of weakness. In truth, this kind of grieving requires a lot of strength.

But some survivors make a decision to move forward. This is not the better thing or the stronger thing, it is just a different thing. And it takes so much effort. Loss does not gently fall away, it is processed and chipped at and allowed to be for as long as needed. That's how it works. Grief makes the rules, not us.

And still, as shiny and new as we seem - there is almost always a vestige of the visible grief that remains. Let that be. If we try to scrape from ourselves every last inch of grief, we are more likely to do damage than to somehow improve.

To my fellow survivors of suicide loss, I offer this reminder: In the end, it is not the shine of having 'moved on' that makes us lovely. Grief can be purposeful. What I want for all of us, is that we learn that grief is not dirty or bad. 

Allow your grief to be here, even if others don't understand.

Know this, your grief is the thing that makes you strong, and beautiful, and ready. You don't have to start over entirely in order to heal. Wherever you are in your journey, let it be ok for today. For survivors of suicide loss, we can not change the past. This one thing remains the same for all of us:

There are no start-overs, there are only start-from-heres.

Mental Health Awareness Month. Because we are needed in this world.

Suicide Prevention. Have the Conversations.

Love, Honor, and Compassion. A Suicide Loss Announcement Done Right

Tommy Bloom Raskin
12/30/1995 - 12/31/2020

'[Tommy] opposed all malicious gossip, 

stopping all such gossipers with a trademark Tommy line:

forgive me, but it’s hard to be a human.'

With suicide loss, making public announcements is often complicated by the stigma attached to suicide. As a suicide loss survivor and as a suicide attempt survivor, I have experienced my own shame around losses and survival. For a long time, I avoided and sidestepped questions. I didn't speak up about needing comfort, and I often pushed it away when it was offered.

Today, I see speaking up as an imperative part of healing. And more so, I refuse to let shame dictate my behavior.

A few days ago, Maryland Congressman Jamie Raskin (and his wife Sarah) publicly announced the death of their beloved son, Tommy Bloom Raskin. I am sharing their announcement now. I feel the announcement was done right. It focuses on what is important: Tommy's amazing life, his accomplishments, their compassion for Tommy's struggles with mental illness, and finally - their great love for their son.

With the exception of adjusting sizing of text and removal of a few photos (for spacing reasons) the announcement below is unchanged from that which was posted on Congressman Raskin's website. I hope that in reading the announcement, you might grow in your compassion for survivors of loss, as well as those who have lost their life to suicide.

To Jamie Raskin and the rest of Tommy's friends and loved ones, I extend my heartfelt empathy and condolences. I know I speak not just myself, but for so many of our fellow survivors of suicide loss, when I say that we share your grief. We are deeply saddened that you have now joined our heartbroken club. Your son's life mattered. We know.

Statement of Congressman Jamie Raskin and Sarah Bloom Raskin on the Remarkable Life of Tommy Raskin

Rep. Jamie Raskin

3 days ago·9 min read

TAKOMA PARK, M.D. — Congressman Jamie Raskin and Sarah Bloom Raskin today released the following statement about their son Thomas (Tommy) Bloom Raskin:

“On January 30, 1995, Thomas Bloom Raskin was born to ecstatic parents who saw him enter the world like a blue-eyed cherub, a little angel. Tommy grew up as a strikingly beautiful curly-haired madcap boy beaming with laughter and charm, making mischief, kicking the soccer ball in the goal, acting out scenes from To Kill A Mockingbird with his little sister in his father’s constitutional law class, teaching other children the names of all the Justices on the Supreme Court, hugging strangers on the street, teaching our dogs foreign languages, running up and down the aisle on airplanes giving people high fives, playing jazz piano like a blues great from Bourbon Street, and at 12 writing a detailed brief to his mother explaining why he should not have to do a Bar Mitzvah and citing Due Process liberty interests (appeal rejected).

“Over the years he was enveloped in the love not only of his bedazzled and starstruck parents but of his remarkable and adoring sisters, Hannah the older and Tabitha the younger, a huge pack of cousins, including Jedd, Emily, Maggie, Zacky, Mariah, Phoebe and Lily, Boman and Daisy, and Emmet and spoiled rotten with hugs and kisses and philosophical nourishment from his grandparents Herb and Arlene Bloom, Marcus Raskin, Barbara Raskin, and later Lynn Raskin, the best aunts and uncles a mischievous ragamuffin could ask for, including Erika and Keith, Kenneth and Abby, Mina, Noah and Heather, Eden and Brandon, and Tammy and Gary, and a cast of secondary parents who wrapped him in adoration and wildly precocious conversation like Michael and Donene, Ann and Jimmy, Kate and Hal, Kathleen and Tom, Katharine and David, Judy, Reed and Julia, Dar and Michael, David and Melinda, Angela and Howard, Helen, Sheila, Mitchell, Will and Camille, Phyllis, Shammy,Khalid and Zina.

“With all this love infusing Tommy’s world and soul, girls quickly came to fancy this magical boy who always made time for the loneliest kids in class and frequently made up his own words to describe feelings and parts of toasters — and, to be clear, he took a strong liking to girls too, these omnipresent magical lovely girls he found who always had a profound beauty radiating from within. Tommy was raised on a fine Montgomery County Education, which took him through Takoma Park Elementary School, Pine Crest Elementary School, Eastern Middle School, and Montgomery Blair High School (with a frolicking detour to Ecole Active Bilingue Jeannine Manuel in Paris for one family sabbatical year where he learned French, tried to teach himself Japanese, and insisted on travel adventures through North Africa and the rest of Europe), but his irrepressible love of freedom and strong libertarian impulses made him a skeptic of all institutional bureaucracy and a daring outspoken defender of all outcasts and kids in trouble. Once when third-grade Tommy and his father saw a boy returning to school after a weeklong suspension and his Dad casually remarked, ‘it looks like they let finally let him out of jail,’ Tommy replied, ‘no, you mean they finally let him back into jail.’

“At Blair, Tommy’s adult persona began to take shape: he co-founded Bliss, a life-changing peer-to-peer tutoring program and spent hours tutoring fellow students in Math and English; made wonderful friends he lavished attention on; became Captain of the Forensics Club and a savagely logical and persuasive orator in the Debate and Extemporaneous Speech Club where he had to be constantly reminded by his teammates that the purpose of high school debate tournaments is to score points and not convince people of the truth or change the world. He was active in the Young Dems and recruited dozens to get involved in the 2012 Obama reelection effort. On Prom Night, he threw a dinner party for 24 fellow students, including classmates who had no date that evening, and they all went to prom together as a group. He hated cliques and social snobbery, never had a negative word for anyone but tyrants and despots, and opposed all malicious gossip, stopping all such gossipers with a trademark Tommy line — ‘forgive me, but it’s hard to be a human.’

“Above all, he began to follow his own piercing moral and intellectual insights looking for answers to problems of injustice, poverty and war. A Bar Mitzvah from Temple Sinai, he taught a Sunday School with Heather Levy for two years at Temple Emmanuel, often substituting his social-struggle analysis of the Exodus story for teachings on the Hebrew alphabet. He ordered and devoured books on the Civil War and Maryland’s history in it, World War II and resistance to Nazism, Jewish history, libertarianism, moral philosophy, the history of the Middle East conflict, peace movements, anything by Gar Alperovitz on the decision to drop the atom bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and anything by Peter Singer on animal rights. He began to pen these extraordinary essays and articles that now add up to well over 100 as well as write plays and extremely long polemical poems, which he eagerly performed for audiences astounded by his precocious moral vision, utter authenticity of emotion, and beauty of expression.

“At Amherst College, he majored in history, helped lead the Amherst Political Union, intellectually discredited the egregious Dinesh D’Souza who turned to pathetic insults when Tommy destroyed his argument from the audience with a simple question (even before D’Souza was soon to be convicted of federal campaign finance crimes), won the Kellogg Prize, created and performed one-act plays with his social dorm mates, and wrote a compelling senior thesis on the intellectual history of the animal rights movement. Spending his summers voraciously reading and soaking up all the wisdom to be had at his eclectic self-procured internships at the CATO Institute with Doug Bandow, J Street, the Institute for Policy Studies, ARC of Montgomery, Compassion Over Killing, and for Professor Frank Couvares, Tommy became an anti-war activist, a badass autodidact moral philosopher and progressive humanist libertarian, and a passionate vegan who composed imperishable, knock-your-socks-off poetry linking systematic animal cruelty and exploitation to militarism and war culture. He recruited gently and lovingly — but supremely effectively — dozens and dozens of people, including his parents, to the practice of not eating animals, and it will be hard to find anyone his age who has turned more carnivores into vegans than him. (He also cheerfully opposed sectarian holier-than-thou sanctimoniousness among a handful of vegans he met and would say, ‘I’m working for a vegan world, not a vegan club.’) A prolific and exquisitely gifted writer, he came to publish essays and op-eds in the Nation, the Goodmen Project, Anti-War.Com and other outlets. After his Amherst graduation, Tommy went to the Friends Committee on National Legislation to work on stopping the war in Yemen and on Middle East policy, and spent a year publishing more remarkable essays and articles (soon to be available to you) and launching a book of political philosophy offering a sweeping animal rights critique of Locke, Mill and classical liberal social contract theory.

“In 2019 Tommy went to Harvard Law School. He lived up in the attic of the home of Michael Anderson and Donene Williams, his Dad’s beloved law school roommates, and made more remarkable friends. He studied constitutional law with Noah Feldman, criminal law with Carole Steiker, and property with Bruce Mann (Elizabeth Warren’s husband); he loved the systematic thought and debate dynamics of law school but reported it to be like half an education because the moral philosophy component was somehow left out. Rather than read endless lists of long cases, why not have students read clear comprehensive statements of what the law is and then talk about what the law should be? So while zealously promoting his newfound favorite game — Boggle — to rescue his classmates and himself from the stress and anxiety of law school, he also pushed them to engage with social problems and found a strong affinity group in the Effective Altruists. He spent last summer working quite brilliantly as a summer associate at Mercy for Animals and found a knack for actual lawyering.

“This fall Tommy not only took a full complement of his second-year law classes, including Disability Law with Michael Stein which he loved, but, at the suggestion of his beloved Professor Steicker, became a Teaching Assistant with Professor Michael Sandel in his ‘Justice’ Course at Harvard. As a teacher, Tommy devoted great time to teaching his section of the class — working on his astonishing lectures and jokes, and meeting endlessly with his dozen students on Zoom, finding what was precious in their work and teasing it out. He loved his students and they loved him back. Not content with giving half of his teaching salary away to save people with malaria by purchasing mosquito nets with global charities, when the semester was over and after his grades were in and the student evaluations were complete, he made individual donations in each of his students’ names to Oxfam, GiveDirectly and other groups targeting global hunger. When I asked him why he did this, he quoted something that he loved which Father Daniel Berrigan said about Dorothy Day: ‘she lived as though the truth were true.’ Tommy said: ‘I wanted them to see that the truth is true.’

“We have barely been able to scratch the surface here, but you have a sense of our son. Tommy Raskin had a perfect heart, a perfect soul, a riotously outrageous and relentless sense of humor, and a dazzling radiant mind. He began to be tortured later in his 20s by a blindingly painful and merciless ‘disease called depression,’ as Tabitha put it on Facebook over the weekend, a kind of relentless torture in the brain for him, and despite very fine doctors and a loving family and friendship network of hundreds who adored him beyond words and whom he adored too, the pain became overwhelming and unyielding and unbearable at last for our dear boy, this young man of surpassing promise to our broken world.

“On the last hellish brutal day of that godawful miserable year of 2020, when hundreds of thousands of Americans and millions of people all over the world died alone in bed in the darkness from an invisible killer disease ravaging their bodies and minds, we also lost our dear, dear, beloved son, Hannah and Tabitha’s beloved irreplaceable brother, a radiant light in this broken world.

“He left us this farewell note on New Year’s Eve day: ‘Please forgive me. My illness won today. Please look after each other, the animals, and the global poor for me. All my love, Tommy.’”

Click here to find the announcement on Congressman Raskin's Website.

Click here to find the Tommy Raskin Memorial Fund for People and Animals.

Ending Stigma about Suicide, Kate Haldeman

 

Several months ago, Kate Haldeman, the writer behind the blog Mental Health Memoirs, offered to write a blog post addressing the stigma associated with suicide. I was honored that she asked to do this, and I am pleased to share her writing with you now:

Four Powerful Ways to End Stigma About Suicide

by Kate Haldeman

When I was in high school, I had my wisdom teeth taken out. I remember an out-pouring of support from my friends and family members. My mom bought a variety of soups and yogurts from the store, so that I could easily swallow them. My friends visited with get well cards. A few family friends brought over meals and made calls to ask if I was doing okay. Even though I was in pain from the surgery, I felt the love and support of my community. Why doesn't this happen during mental health crises?

 A family friend had a short stay in a psychiatric hospital a few years ago, and people spoke about it in hushed tones. It was as if people viewed her condition as something contagious. This incident made me realize that the stigma regarding mental health needs to change.

Not Talking About Suicide Can Contribute to Stigma and Stigma Can Kill.

The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that nearly 800,000 people die each year from suicide. This this equals one death every 40 seconds (WHO, 2016). Suicide is particularly deadly for young people. Worldwide, WHO lists suicide as the second leading cause of death (second only to accidents) for 15-29-year-olds (WHO, 2016). 

There is an urgent need to prevent deaths by suicide. Yet, you rarely hear people discuss this topic. Suicide is a topic fraught with stigma and taboo. You may want to help to end the stigma, but are unsure of where to start. Below, I’ll detail four important ways to combat the stigma surrounding suicide. 

1. Educate Yourself About Suicide 

The first step in lowering stigma is becoming more knowledgeable. Read reputable books and articles about suicide. Take an in-person or online class or training about the topic. By learning more, you will be better equipped to discuss the topic. 

Articles 

Read reputable, evidence-based articles about suicide prevention. Glean information from trusted sources, such as the Center for Disease Control and the World Health Organization. Here are a few good articles to start with: 

• Suicide Prevention, World Health Organization

• Preventing Sucide, Centers for Disease Control

• Suicide Prevention, Help Guide

Courses

One way to learn more about suicide prevention is to take courses. There are many options for both paid and free courses. There are a variety of courses available both online and in-person.

If you become a volunteer for a suicide prevention agency, you may receive free training (examples include The Trevor Project, Crisis Text Line, and the National Suicide Prevention Hotline, among others). 

The Suicide Prevention Resource Center offers free courses on suicide prevention. You only need to log on and create a username. Two of the available courses include Locating and Understanding Data for Suicide Prevention, and A Strategic Planning Approach to Suicide Prevention.

Books

Read accounts of individuals who have struggled with suicidal thoughts. Read books from reputable authors about the prevention of suicide. Here are some recommendations: 

• Reasons to Stay Alive, Matt Haig, Penguin, 2017 

• The Recovery Letters: Addressed to People Experiencing Depression, Olivia Sagan and Jame Withey [Editors], Routledge, 2017

• If You Feel Too Much: Thoughts on Things Found, Lost, and Hoped For, Jamie Tworkowski and Donald Miller, Penguin, 2017Talk About

2. Talk About Suicide

The subject of suicide is wrought with stigma. The topic is emotional, taboo, and difficult to discuss. All these reasons make it tempting to stay silent when it comes to suicide. But, silence gives power to myths and misinformation. It prevents individuals with suicidal thoughts from feeling free to speak about them. We need to talk about suicide, lives depend on it. 

Bill White (owner of Chipur.com, licensed mental health counselor) stresses the importance of speaking about suicide. White asserts, “How sad that someone dies because ‘we just don’t talk about things like suicide.' Lives are lost when perceived unpleasant truths are swept under the rug. Death is part of life. Life is always a conversation.” 

Speaking openly about suicide also allows loved ones to be vulnerable. It shifts our culture to one where it is okay to ask for help when you are struggling. Let’s partner together so that people no longer suffer in silence. 

Speaking about suicide: 

1. Lowers Stigma

When we discuss suicide, the stigma surrounding the topic lessens. Speaking about suicide lessens the negative power that the topic holds. 

2. Encourages Education 

If we never speak about suicide, it is difficult to address misperceptions. Open conversations lead to paradigm shifts. By speaking non-judgmentally about suicide, we encourage others to do the same. 

3. Raises Support 

Understanding the why behind suicide leads to a deeper empathy for those struggling. Additionally, those who are considering suicide feel more comfortable speaking about it out loud. 

4. Saves Lives 

We need to talk about suicide because it saves lives. Many people speak to someone about suicide before ending their life. One study National Center for Biotechnology Information studyOne studyContact With Mental Health and Primary Care Providers Before Suicide: A Review of the Evidence (Luoma, Martin & Pearson, 2002) showed that nearly half of suicidal individuals speak to someone about their suicidal thoughts within one month of ending their lives.

Barriers to Discussing Suicide 

If talking about suicide is so important, then why aren’t we doing it more? Below, I’ve listed some of the major barriers to discussing suicide. 

• “I Feel Awkward.”

As I established earlier, suicide is an awkward topic for many. It’s taboo and heavy. You may feel uncomfortable asking a friend about it. 

Response: 

Most things are awkward when you first begin. Your comfort in speaking about suicide will grow over time. At first, you can use suggested questions (i.e. "Have you thought about ending your life?"). In time, your comfort around the topic will grow.

• “I Don’t Understand.” 

You may struggle to understand how someone could take their own life. You’ve never experienced anything like this and so you aren’t sure how to empathize. 

Response: 

It’s difficult to understand something that you haven't personally gone through. With suicide, it’s important to remember that a person is in deep emotional pain. Imagine that you severely burned your arm. You don’t necessarily want to die, but you are in so much pain, you are willing to try almost anything to make the pain stop. This is the reality for a lot of individuals considering suicide. They are in deep emotional pain and want some form of relief. 

• “I Don’t Know What to Say.”

You may not feel well educated about suicide. It’s difficult to bring it up. It feels like something that should be “left to professionals.” 

Response: 

Help from a qualified mental health professional is definitely necessary for some scenarios. Recommending that a someone seek help is a good starting place. Still, we owe it to society to become better educated about suicide.

Identify why you feel uncomfortable discussing it, and try to remedy the problem. For instance, if you don’t feel educated enough, then commit to learning more about the topic.

• “But What if by Talking About Suicide, I Make the Person Suicidal?”

You may worry that by bringing up the topic, you could actually encourage the person to consider suicide. You worry that even though they weren’t considering it before, they might now.

Response: 

A wide body of research disproves this myth. You cannot make someone suicidal by asking if they’ve experienced suicidal thoughts. Discussing suicide does not lead to the increase of suicidal thoughts for a person. (See Evaluating iatrogenic risk of suicide screening programs, Gould, Marrocco & Kleinman, 2005.) 

3. Check in With Others About Suicidal Thoughts 

Because of some of the reasons listed above, it can feel awkward to discuss suicide. Yet, one of the most important things we can do is talk to our loved ones about suicidal thoughts. 

• Ask Direct Questions

Be direct. If you notice that someone seems down, ask them if they are having any suicidal thoughts. 

For example, you could say, “I’ve noticed that you seem down lately. I know that sometimes when people feel sad, they have suicidal thoughts. Has this been the case for you?” Or, “Are you thinking about ending your life?” 

• Be Supportive 

Assure your friend that you are there for them. Remind them that you care about them. If they speak to you about their experiences, thank them for being honest. Thank them for sharing.

Don’t quickly change the topic. Avoid sounding judgmental. Try to keep an open mind and relate to how the person must feel. Avoid trying to cheer the person up. Don't come up with simplistic solutions for the problems they are experiencing. 

• Know the Warning Signs 

Being knowledgeable about the warning signs of suicide can help direct you. According to the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), some of the common warning signs for suicide are: 

• Talking about wanting to die

• Talking about being a burden to others

• Feeling empty, hopeless, and/or trapped 

• Extreme sadness 

• Using drugs or alcohol more often or other self-destructive behavior 

• Researching how to die 

• Saying “goodbye” to friends and family members 

To see the complete list, go to this link (https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/warning-signs-of-suicide/index.shtml) 

My Friend/Loved One is Considering Suicide 

If someone is considering suicide, first, thank them for being honest with you. It takes a lot of courage for someone to speak up about suicide. Be sure to take any and all suicidal comments seriously. There is a widespread misconception that people are not serious when they talk about suicide. Take every suicidal assertion seriously.

• Do not leave the person alone. If you need to leave for another commitment, make sure to get someone else to stay with the person. 

• If you feel that a suicide attempt is likely, call 911 or the local emergency services. Or, if the suicidal person is willing to go the emergency room (ER) and you can get them there safely, transport the individual to the nearest ER. 

• Or, if the person sees a primary care physician, therapist, and/or another healthcare professional regularly, try to arrange an emergency (same-day) appointment. If the appointment is possible, stay with the person until the appointment. If you feel it is urgent and an appointment is not possible, take the individual to the ER. You can also inform the person's healthcare provider about the situation.

• Don’t keep it a secret. Inform a trustworthy friend, family member, and/or professional of the situation. Encourage the suicidal person to reach out to others, themselves. 

Other Options: 

You may not be sure if your friend is suicidal. For example, they may be unwilling to talk or frequently go silent. It’s also possible that they may say that they have had some suicidal thoughts, but don’t plan to act on them. 

If you aren’t sure if your friend is suicidal or are unsure of what to do, a good first step is to call a suicide hotline. You can encourage your friend to speak with the operator. The operator will usually further direct you. Here are some of the best hotlines: 

• National Suicide Prevention Hotline - 1-800-273-8255

• Crisis Text Line - Text “Hello” to 741741 (U.S. Canada) 

• The Trevor Project - Support for LGBTQIA+ 1-866-488-7386 

My Friend/Loved One Says They Are Not Considering Suicide 

If you are worried about someone who says that they are not suicidal, then reaffirm your support. Let them know that you are there for them and will check in on them again.

Make an effort to reach out to them the next day. You can give them the number of a suicide hotline service in case they ever feel suicidal.

3. Make a Donation of Time and/or Money to a Suicide Prevention Organization.

There are many quality suicide prevention organizations. Consider donating time and/or money. 

One great perk of becoming a volunteer is that you often get free comprehensive training. I’ve listed a few of the many great organizations below: 

American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

Befrienders Worldwide

The Trevor Project

Crisis Text Line

Suicide Prevention Lifeline

In conclusion, we all have a role to play in ending the stigma surrounding suicide. You can make a difference by learning and talking about suicide prevention. You can save a friend’s life by asking direct questions about suicidal thoughts. Your life and the lives of others will change when you make a donation of money and/or time to a worthy organization.

Are there ways of ending stigma about suicide have I missed? Leave me a comment on my Mental Health Memoirs blog! 

Behind Every Mask

 

Behind every mask there is a face, and behind that, a story.

 - Marty Rubin

On October 31, a lot of people will wear masks. Even before the advent of mandated masks, Halloween was a day to put one on. 

So, I thought I would share some masks that help me to spread an important message. I can wear these on Halloween - or I can wear them anytime. Because suicide prevention belongs to every day of the year, not just one.

(I purchased each of these masks on Etsy. Click here is you want to see a search of the Sucide Prevention/Awareness masks they have available, today.)

DAY 27 - Changing the World

We are rewarded for hiding ourselves. 
 The fact that we can function, at great cost to ourselves, is used to beat up the people who cannot function.

S.E. Smith

 

Not quite six months after John died, I reached a turning point in my anger. Up until then, most of my anger was focused on the mental health care systems that had failed him. I was enraged at the lack of information, lack of adequate treatment, and the industries that prioritized cost effective measures over making mental health resources available to those who need them.

I was also angry at the lack of resources and support available to those who love someone with a mental illness. I hated that much of the messaging for partners and loved ones is that they either leave, love perfectly, or assert boundaries that are nearly impossible to manage. All of these messages fell terribly short of respecting the imperfection of being human.

I have come to believe that the suggestions that are made to the loved ones are born of the fact that we don't have adequate treatment for mental illness itself, and we don't have adequate resources to foster universal suicide awareness.

These illnesses inflict pain and suffering on not just the person with the illness, but also on their loved ones. Trying to mitigate this suffering, loved ones often treat the person with the illness as if they are the enemy. Sadly, this dynamic exacerbates the shame and fear that mental illness already imposes.

And if we lose someone to suicide? We disect in excruciating detail the ways in which we'd been in conflict with the person we'd lost. We continue to confuse the illness with the person we loved. How could they have done this to me? But we must begin to replace the words 'him/her/they' with 'the illness,' in order to have an accurate reflection of what was going on.

Similarly, we ask ourselves: how could I have said this to him? How could I have done this to her?  The answer is that we weren't fighting with the person we lost, we'd been engaged in an argument with an illness.

Still, whether we are loss survivors or we are attempt survivors - we agonize over what we could not do, what we did do, and what we believe we should have done. We blame ourselves for not having tools and resources, despite the fact that they do not yet exist. We blame ourselves for not knowing many things that are still unknown. We blame ourselves for not being the cure for mental illness - as if that were even possible.

So yes, in the months following John's death I was angry. And I was also ashamed. I survived only because the people who loved me held me up. I know too though, it was often a struggle for them. 

My guilt was so incredibly heavy, it dragged me down again and again. I'd lost my mother to suicide. I'd nearly lost my own life. And now I'd lost John. I didn't understand why life was so unfair. Not in a self piteous way, but in all earnestness. How could this be happening? How would I ever be able to incorporate the reality of these losses into a life that might include hope and joy as well?

It was exhausting. The grief was exhausting. My self flagellation was exhausting. I was tired of the confusion. And then one day I realized that I would never overcome the worst of my pain, if I didn't better understand what had happened to John, and myself, and my mother.

It is important for me to point out that amidst all of this emotional exhaustion, I remained motivated by wanting to defend John. Because he died by suicide, there was this constant inference that he was selfish. But I knew him well. He was human with many flaws, but selfishness was the least among them.

If nothing else, I understood that John had lost his life to a mental illness that was beyond his control, and yet he was being blamed for it. I knew that he'd fought extremely hard to rebound from the ways his illness impacted him. I knew this because he told me, I knew this because I saw it.

When John died, I knew he deserved far better than the fallacy that he'd been weak or selfish.

I thought about when my mother had died by suicide 15 years earlier. When she died, I was beside myself with grief and guilt. My lack of understanding set me up for years of feeling responsible and years of feeling as if the similarities between her illness and my own meant that I would lose my life to suicide too.

And then I thought about my own suicide attempt, which had happened less than five years prior to John's death. In the weeks following my attempt, family members stopped speaking to me. People unfriended me on Facebook. I received one anonymous text: "Don't do this to your son." To this day, I don't know if that was supposed to be instructive or accusatory.

I changed my phone number and stopped replying to messages.

The truth is, I hadn't known the answers to the questions people were asking. I agreed with the premises though. There was something terribly selfish/bad/wrong with me. I was not worthy of friendships or forgiving. I couldn't understand how I had 'let' this happen either. I, like John, had tried desperately to stay alive, for years. What went wrong and how could I have failed so terribly? The accusations from others and the self blame on my end was agonizing.

I had bursts of blaming others for my despair, and bursts of feeling defensive of myself. Mostly though, I agreed with what the world at large says about those who are suicidal: I was selfish. All I cared about were my feelings and I was incapable of thinking about the feelings of others. I was rash and weak and not to be trusted. I was not worthy.

When my mother died, initially I was convinced that I should have 'done something different' to save her. Fifteen years later when John died, I believed that I should have 'loved him better' in order to save him. With my own attempts, I just knew I'd failed everyone who loved me. In all three, I still struggle with guilt some days. This is common for people whose lives have been touched by suicide. Guilt offers very few people mercy.

Our culture tells us that death by suicide is driven by choice. This belief creates an agonizing contemplation on the part of the loss survivor. 'Why didn't the person I lost choose me over death?' And for the attempt survivor, the stigma driven suggestion that they made a selfish choice only serves to add a layer of shame on top of what is likely already profound self hatred.

How do we challange stigma and change the unhelpful premises that exacerbate it? We speak up. 

After John died, I realized that my voice was important. I am the voice of someone who has experienced all these facets of suicide and stigma. I am a multiple loss survivor. I am a suicide attempt survivor. And I am a person who, at times, still struggles with suicidality.

I have experienced first hand the misunderstanding, the accusations, and the insensitivity. But I have also experienced the support, the understanding, and the love that carries people like me from one day to the next.

This is why I use my voice. Because it is those who speak up who are making a difference. If those who read learn something, that can potentially lead to life saving advocacy and action. And for others, knowing that they not alone and that they are understood can save a life too.

There is an African Proverb: Not to know is bad; not to wish to know is worse. If suicide has touched your life, I encourage you to reach out, ask questions, and learn more. Educating yourself is the first step toward compassion.  

And I believe that knowledge and compassion have the capacity to change the world.

[The essay above was first written in June of 2018.]

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