International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day

 

From the AFSP (American Foudation for Suicide Prevention) website:

International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day

International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day is an event in which survivors of suicide loss come together to find connection, understanding, and hope through their shared experience. This year, International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day is Saturday, November 21, 2020.

To learn more about resources for suvivors of suicide loss who are also impacted by the pandamic, click the image below.

DAY 5 - Suicide Prevention Week 2021

Moving into the second week of the National Suicide Prevention Month, we have the National Suicide Prevention Week. This week is a great opportunity to spend time learning about suicide prevention organizations. These organizations and/or websites have devoted their missions or parts of their missions toward making a difference in suicide prevention and awareness. Many of these organizations are in need of financial support, advocacy, and volunteer support. 

Take a look at their websites. Broaden your knowledge about suicide and find ways that you can contribute your time or money to this important cause.

You can start by clicking on the image below:

*If you find that links need to be updated, or if you you feel that their are additions that should be made, please feel free to contact Lighting Up the Sky directly.

 

DAY 1 - National Suicide Prevention Month 2021

 

This is the fifth year in a row that the Lighting Up the Sky suicide prevention and awareness blog has been dedicated to publishing a suicide related post every day of the month. 

This year we will share some of what we have shared in the past, some new content, and a great deal of support for those who struggle with suicidal ideation, those who have been lost to suicide, and the suicide loss survivors who hold onto the love and memories of those who have been lost. 

For those of you whose lives have been touched by suicide or those who would just like to learn more, welcome to the Lighting Up the Sky blog. 

What The Heart Can't Erase

The mind replays what the heart can't erase.

- HealthyPlace.com

Thinking today of all of the suicide loss survivors who have lost their loved ones to firearms. For many, the sounds of explosions or fireworks bring back unwanted memories, some of which can cause a PTSD activation that can make holidays like the 4th of July very traumatic.

For anyone who suffers from PTSD related to gun violence, here are some tips for coping this holiday weekend, provided by psychiatrist John Lipkin, M.D., from peacehealth.com.

Ask your neighbors to let you know if they plan to set off fireworks. Anticipating the noise can help you avoid being caught off guard. (If you’re uncomfortable talking with your neighbors about it, have a trusted friend or loved one check with them instead.) You might let others know you struggle with anxiety or PTSD and that fireworks can make it difficult for you. You can encourage them to celebrate the holiday as they wish, but just tell them it would help you to know when they expect to set off their fireworks. They might even decide to forego the fireworks out of kindness.

Prepare a self-care tool kit. Consider positive things you can use for healthy distraction and comfort. Look through photographs that give you joy. Listen to favorite soothing music. Enjoy the fragrance of fresh pine, lavender, cinnamon or peppermint. Spend time playing with or grooming your dog or other pet.

Cover your ears. Wear inexpensive foam ear protection. When fireworks start with greater intensity or frequency, try other acoustic earmuffs or noise-canceling earphones. Listen to calming music, an engaging audiobook or nature sounds to cope with the noise. Run a fan or other source of white noise to help mask and muffle the outside sounds. Retraining can help you remove negative associations to loud sounds and help you begin to experience them as more neutral.

Darken your room. If flashes of light bother you when you’re trying to sleep, shut the blinds, use a room-darkening curtain and/or wear an eye mask or bandana over your eyes.

Allow yourself to accept the reactions that you have. Don’t be self-critical, embarrassed or ashamed. Millions of people have startle and upset reactions. Remind yourself you are ok; these noises are temporary, and you are safe.

Plan a getaway. While it may not always be possible or necessary, consider going outside of the city or neighborhood. Enjoying nature miles away from civilization can be restorative. Watching a firework display, for example, on a distant beach with friends or family, might turn out to be an enjoyable experience. 

Practice self-regulation and grounding techniques to help make your body and mind feel safe and more secure. For example, position yourself to keep your back against something hard like a wall or a chair, sit so you feel the solid support of the floor beneath your feet if you are starting to feel fearful and unsafe. Think about what makes you feel grounded and supported in other ways. Wear long sleeves and trousers. A favorite hat may also help you feel more protected.

Practice S-L-O-W deep breathing. Emphasize breathing from the belly (diaphragm).  Emphasize the duration of exhalation, breathing out nearly twice as long as breathing in. Breathe in to a slow count of three to four and exhale to a slow count of six to eight. Notice how the air entering your nose and mouth is cool and how it’s warm going out. Imagine blowing out candles on a cake as you do this.

Notice your surroundings, look around and even if you feel unsafe, remind yourself that you are safe and not in harm’s way in your current surroundings. Describe to yourself what you see around you that can keep you grounded in your present reality.

Practice a 5-4-3-2-1 sensory exercise to feel centered, grounded and calm. Identify

• five things you can see
• four things you can hear
• three things you can feel
• two things you can smell
• one good thing you are grateful for or can say about yourself.

Practice mindfully eating a piece of fruit, noticing how it looks, the texture of its skin, the fragrance of its aroma, the temperature, flavor, and how it feels as you taste it. See how long you can enjoy each bite until you swallow it. Notice how it feels when you swallow each bite and before you take another.

Use an app for assistance. The National Center for Telehealth and Technology and the Veteran’s Administration National Center for PTSD has helped develop two effective, free apps for smartphones to help people cope with symptoms of anxiety, panic and PTSD. One app is called Virtual Hope Box (on Google and on Apple) and the other is PTSD Coach.

Finally, if you do find your PTSD activated and your symptoms linger, seek help. Professional trauma-focused therapy can help you to help cope with, reduce and sometimes eliminate these anxiety responses.

Whatever you do this holiday weekend, I wish you the best. As always, my fellow suicide loss survivors are very close to my heart, and so are those who struggle with PTSD. May you be surrounded by comfort and support this weekend, and always.

I see you. I care about you. You are needed in this world.

 

To see posts on this blog featuring LGBTQ topics, click here.

For information on crisis hotline/textline/chatlines, including the Trans Lifeline, click here.

To see a (partial) list of LGBTQ suicide prevention organizations, click here and scroll down to LGBTQ.

For more LGBTQ suicide prevention resources and support, see the AFSP page, click here. 


To all in the LGBTQ community, including allies, I see you. I care about you. You are wanted in this world. You are needed in this world. Never forget. 

Her Father's Flag

Amon Gift, a US Army veteran, was 23 years old 

when he died by suicide, in January of 2017. 

The photo above is of Amon Gift's daughter, at his funeral.

I first published this photo as a Beauty of Grief feature. I've shared it many times since, as its heartbreaking message stands.

We are losing too many veterans to suicide.

If you want to see more of what I've written about suicide and the military, click here. 

The reasons for actively serving and veteran military related suicides are varied and complex. However, the importance of showing our support to individuals is critical. This is Memorial Day weekend. Reach out to someone who is serving or has served in the military. Let them know that they are loved and that you care.

Remember that close to 22 veterans a day are dying by suicide. Supporting military related suicide prevention should happen every day, as well.

If you are a veteran or actively serving member of the armed forces and you are feeling hopeless or suicidal - please reach out. You can start by calling the Veterans Crisis Line. Your service to the country is appreciated. Your life matters. You are needed in this world.

(Thank you to Kelsey Leann Tobin for permission to use the beautiful photo of her daughter, above.)

Again.

This is the job of every suicide loss survivor and every suicide attempt survivor.

The effort to change this from a burden to a gift is important and worthwhile. Just like our lives.

Happy New Year to my family of Lighting Up the Sky readers. May 2021 bring you blessings and hope. And for those of you who find yourself in pain or sorrow on this day, remember that you are cared about, and you are not alone. 

A season of faith.

This holiday season, whatever your spiritual beliefs are, I hope you've been able to embrace some measure of faith.

Suicide loss survivors, suicide attempt survivors, and those who are struggling with thoughts of suicide today, despite our pain I believe that the mystery of grace surrounds us all. I have faith that there is a light that will return, no matter how dark our skies have become.

This is a season of both giving and receiving. Make an effort to do both. Many of you I've never met, but I do know this - you are deserving, and your efforts matter.

Grateful for the Ocean

 

My gratitude for good writing is unbounded; 

I’m grateful for it the way I’m grateful for the ocean.

- Anne Lamott

Every year, International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day takes place on the Saturday before the (U.S.) Thanksging holiday. For some, the timing of the event might seem odd. But for many of us who have suffered a loss, it makes sense.

As we move toward a holiday that encourages an entire country to express gratitude, suicide loss survivors often feel invisible. If we are new to our loss, we might feel as if we are expected to pretend that we are ok, when we don't feel ok. However, Suicide Loss Survivors Day allows us to express our feelings, just as they are. Perhaps more than anything, the day reminds us that we are not alone. Infact, feeling connected to others who share this type of loss serves as one of the most important foundations of gratitude.

So, I decided to ask fellow suicide loss survivors what they are grateful for this year.  I received responses from all over the world. I received facebook messages, texts, emails, and even handwritten notes. The words were varied and poignant. I am happy to share them with you now.

I am grateful that I am surrounded by people that I love and that they are aways there for me. ~ Gianna C., Oakley, California

I am grateful for my family, my dog, Eli, and all of the resources I have to help me at home to learn. ~ Emily C., Oakley, California 

I am grateful that my boys are no longer struggling and suffering, but I still wish they were here not struggling. But there is this thing called life, which is never perfect and everyone has struggles. I'm grateful that God has given me the graces to deal with the things I've had to deal with, and to be able to engage with people in this world. ~ Jo M., Brentwood, California 

This thanksgiving I am grateful for my wife and daughter, for helping to keep me out of the abyss after Peyton’s suicide. ~ David J., Conroe, Texas

I am grateful for my fur babies who bring me comfort when no one else can.  ~ Becky A., Jefferson, Georgia 

I wouldn't trade my time with my two loves, for anything. (One was a suicide, the other a heart attack). I am SO grateful for the time I was able to spend with each one. The things they taught me, too. I feel I have a greater love, even though losing them hurts, still. Even in their death, they have taught me so much. About life, grief, love and even myself. ~ Shalene T., Utah

I am grateful for the unconditional love of friends and family who give me incredible support and make me laugh! ~ Teresa C., Oakley California

I am grateful for my soul sister Heliana. She’s been there for me all the way for the past three years. I lost the love of my life, but I gained a sister.  ~ Martha B. , Weston, Florida

I'm grateful for my friends who continue to show up. I'm grateful for my cat who shows me love every day. ~ Tartine C., France, Europe

I am grateful for my beautiful family who are a blessing to me every day. ~ Pete C., Oakley, California

I am grateful for the love of God, and the strength He gives me each day to keep going after losing my son. ~ AnneMarie S., Santa Fe, New Mexico 

I’m grateful for my loving husband and my two dogs, Bennie and Luna. ~ Margie W., Alicante, Spain 

I am grateful for my Mum and partner. ~ Abbi W., Penworthan, United Kingdom

• I'm grateful for the 21 years that we had with her. ~ Katie G., United States

I am grateful for a great, strong friend who has my back at every bad turn. ~ Hazel S., Chesterfield, United Kingdom

• I am grateful for the memories I have of my son. When he was 5 and sat on Santa’s lap, he asked Santa to bring his mommy a special gift because she didn’t have a husband anymore. (Santa pulled me aside to tell me this.). I’m grateful for the heart shaped rock he found while on vacation with his dad and stepmom - he was 10. He saved the rock and brought it home to me as a token of his love. To this day, that rock goes everywhere I go. I’m grateful for the adult conversations we had and that he felt safe with me to share his innermost feelings. I’m grateful he shared his first heartbreak with me. I’m grateful for the times he visits me and guides me in the spirit. I’m grateful for every poem he ever wrote to me and every special drawing he made for me. I’m grateful that he thanked me for being his mom and taking good care of him. ~ Nancy VL., Dublin, Califonria

I am grateful for the memories we have together...it is all I have left of him. ~ Teresa P., San Antonio, Texas

I am grateful for getting to be his happily ever after... He had a hard life, right from birth on. I'm grateful I got to show him true love and loyalty, before he left... Doesn't make it hurt any less...but I'm grateful that he got to know unconditional love before he returned 'home'. If that makes sense...  ~ Sharon E.V., Northern Ontario Canada

I am grateful for long conversations I got to have with my friend after meetings, and how he always reminded me what a good mom I am. ~ Victoria G., Walnut Creek, CA

I’m grateful for the path I’m on that has enabled me to feel like I am enough and that I’m worthy.... it’s been a long road. ~ Sheree GK., Carrollton, Ga.

I’m grateful for having the strength to endure this grief, for knowing that there would be a rainbow at the end of this tunnel. I didn’t have family support, but I did have friends support and for that I am truly grateful. I’m still trying to find myself, let’s just say I’m a work in progress and I’m good with that. I find that not playing the victim truly helps and knowing that it’s ok to have bad days, but to embrace the good days. And, I’m grateful for the special friends that I have made through my grief from losing Greg. ~ Debbie W., Camus, Washington

I am grateful for my kids. They have been the ones to keep me going when I have just wanted to give up. ~ Shelly H., Willow Springs, Missouri

I’m so grateful that John took the time to visit me whenever he was in my neighborhood. I was grateful for the opportunity to make lunch or a snack for him, and learn about some of the things that were important to him. I was also grateful for the chance to drive him to where we’d go for vacation on Cobb Mountain. That time was so precious because we connected on a different, more meaningful level. David had just passed, and John was still very young. He was filled with sadness, fears, and insecurities. My mom and I spent our time encouraging him to be more independent. We loved watching him gain enough confidence to interact with the other kids. ~ Mimi O., Chico, California

I am grateful that since the virus, I am learning to appreciate the little things; the most important things. I am grateful for the gift of family and the opportunity to show my love in new ways. ~ Grace M., Tea, South Dakota

I am grateful for my fiancé, friends, family, and pets. A less common thing I'm greatful for is my Nintendo Switch, that little machine has kept me sane through the wild ride that this year has been. ~ Kerri S., Winston-Salem, North Carolina 

I am grateful for my family, friends, wonderful loving co-workers who are like family. ~Amanda CB., Mantua, New Jersey

I am so grateful for the years I got to spend with my partner and the relationship that formed with his daughter. ~ Clarissa B., York, South Carolina

I’m grateful for my overwhelming inner resilience to life’s difficulties. My willingness to fight the fight and to never give up; to stay in the game no matter what for as long as I’m able. Rather than focusing on only the stigma perceived by those who think they know something, knowing instead that mental illness runs rampant through society and the world, where people suffer silently unable to be reached by those with even the greatest of intentions. And I’m grateful that, as a result of chronic depression handed down to me from my mother, my unrelenting struggle with addiction, and the constant never-ending challenge to keep going even when I’m no longer really interested in doing so, I possess an inner truth and depth that constantly reveals both the beautiful and tragic elements of human nature, where nobody is above suffering no matter what one’s circumstances. I’m grateful to be one of those individuals with depth and connection with self and the spiritual. ~ Mike G., Pleasant Hill, California

I am grateful that I’ve learned to use the pain, loss, and grief to help others. ~ Laura C., New South Wales, Australia

I am thankful that when I think I am weak, I manage to overcome my insecurities and accomplish things that I thought I couldn't do on my own without him here, and I feel good about myself.

~ Susie W., Crowley, Texas

I'm grateful for the years I got to spend with my daddy, I'm especially grateful for the laughs we shared over the years.  ~ Breonna C., York, South Carolina

I am grateful for the honesty and bravery of my fellow survivors of suicide loss. Their courage inspires me every single day. ~ Chelise S., Concord, California 

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.)

Mental Health Deserves The Spotlight

 

Combat harmful misinformation by educating yourself yourself about mental illness.

Combat stigma by speaking up for those who suffer from mental illness.

Combat needless suffering by offering a compassionate hand to those who struggle with mental illness.

Advocate for yourself and reach out for help if you are enduring the symptoms of mental illness without support. You are important, you are not alone, your life matters, and you are needed in this world.

From Project Hope:

Mental health is a global crisis that affects people across all walks of life.

Mental health is essential to a healthy life. But millions of people around the world struggle silently with anxiety, fear, isolation, and depression, lacking access to the quality care they need.

Mental health is a human right — and everyone deserves access to the care they need to reach their full potential.

And according to NAMI (the National Alliance on Mental Illness), the link between mental illness and suicide can not be ignored.

Like any other health emergency, it’s important to address a mental health crisis like suicide quickly and effectively. Unlike other health emergencies, mental health crises don’t have *instructions or resources on how to help or what to expect (like the Heimlich Maneuver or CPR). 

If your friend or family member struggles with suicidal ideation day-to-day, let them know that they can talk with you about what they’re going through. Make sure that you adopt an open and compassionate mindset when they’re talking. Instead of “arguing” or trying to disprove any negative statements they make (“Your life isn’t that bad!”), try active listening techniques such as reflecting their feelings and summarizing their thoughts. This can help your loved one feel heard and validated.

Let them know that mental health professionals are trained to help people understand their feelings and improve mental wellness and resiliency. Psychotherapy, like cognitive behavioral therapy and dialectical behavior therapy, can help a person with thoughts of suicide recognize ineffective patterns of thinking and behavior, validate their feelings and learn coping skills. Suicidal thoughts are a symptom, just like any other — they can be treated, and they can improve over time.

Suicide is not the answer. There is hope.

*NAMI has created Navigating a Mental Health Crisis: A NAMI Resource Guide for Those Experiencing a Mental Health Emergency, so people experiencing mental health emergencies and their loved ones can have the answers and information they need when they need it most.

Look What Happens With a Love Like This

Even after all this time the sun never says to the earth, 'You owe me.' 

Look what happens with a love like that. It lights the whole sky.”
- Hāfiz

This morning, the Lighting Up the Sky blog crossed a threshold. The number of times the blog has been viewed surpassed 100,000.

It's an amazing thing, that what is written here has touched so many people. Not quite three years ago, I started this blog. I wasn't sure where it was going. At first I thought I'd share parts of the journal I'd kept in the months after John died. I did that because of the number of people who were telling me that my writing about suicide was helpful to them. The most powerful feedback then remains the same today. When I hear someone say 'I learned something important about suicide by reading your blog,' it motivates me. But when I hear someone say 'when I read your blog, I felt less alone,' I am humbled by those words. I am humbled by the fact that this blog has impacted people in this important way.

So I stepped back and paid attention to what was being said. People told me they appreciated that someone was talking about suicide. They told me they didn't feel they had a voice. Many survivors of suicide loss felt they didn't have a right to mourn. Nearly every person I spoke to said they were hurt by the ways that people didn't understand suicide. Whether they were a survivor of attempts or a survivor of loss, they reached out to me to talk about the agony that this lack of understanding can cause.

Quickly I realized I could do more with this blog than I originally intended. I recognized that there were an immeasurable amount of people whose lives had been touched by suicide, not just me. Asking those people to share their own experiences with suicide was important. The more lives and voices that this blog could share, the more of a reminder that none of us are alone.

"People don't understand!" is what I was hearing.
"So, tell them," has always been my response. 

I understood too, the importance of being allowed to grieve a suicide loss. To be sad, angry, hurt and sometimes relieved. I knew firsthand that the stigma around suicide complicates grief. Often, we are told we shouldn't be talking about the loss. We are told that we should be mad at the person we lost, that we should forget about them.  Or sometimes the opposite - we are told we can't be mad at those who die by suicide, at all. We can't rage against a person's mental illness and we are not allowed to celebrate the beauty of who the person was, either. It is an excruciating paradox. So, I wanted this blog to give people permission to react to their grief in any way they needed. And I especially wanted to celebrate and encourage the beautiful side of grieving and the beautiful side of healing too.

I am both honored and humbled that so many people have been interested in what we, those whose lives have been touched by suicide, have to say. Our voices matter. As Robin Williams once said, "No matter what people tell you, words and ideas can change the world."

Speaking of quotes, many people have asked me why I named this blog Lighting Up the Sky. The name is derived from a quote by the Persian poet, Hāfiz. 'Even after all this time the sun never says to the earth, you owe me. Look what happens with a love like that. It lights the whole sky.'

When I started the journey of writing this blog, I was struck and saddened by the often held notion that those who die by suicide are selfish. As a survivor of a suicide attempt myself, I knew that many of us truly believe that by leaving, we are doing something good for those we love. I struggle with this to this day. If I hurt someone, I wrestle with wondering if my loss would be an adequate reparation. The pain of this deliberation cannot be put into words. We think we are relieving our loved ones of a burden. We believe that we don't deserve love or to be cared about. In this sense, though misguided, our actions are the opposite of selfish.

I considered the lack of understanding about suicidal ideation, the lack of resources available to those who need them, and the lack of effective treatment. Given all of the prior, I believe that we often look at suicide from a faulty and painful perspective.

But what will happen if we flip that perspective? How much more will be accomplished if we stop blaming the ones we've lost? I believe that often it is not those who are losing their lives to suicide who are failing us. Instead our culture, the stigma, and the silence around suicide, failed them.

What if instead of focusing on their owing us forever unfulfilled promises, we focus instead on the beauty their presence in our lives had once offered? I would think if we did this, while their loss would be no less heartbreaking, it would be a measure less dark.

That's how I want to think about the people I've lost to suicide. Not that they have darkened my life, but instead, I want their memory to light up my sky.

I can't let this milestone of 100,000 go, without saying this:

I started this blog for John Macaluso. I loved him. I love him still. He was needed in this world when he lost his life to suicide. And I know he'd be proud that this blog has had an impact on so many people.

I continued this blog for my mother. She was a writer herself. She was smart and funny. She was needed in this world when she lost her life to suicide. She would be proud of my writing too, I know.

And I write for this blog still, for me. It has been much easier for me to write about being a survivor of suicide loss than it has been for me to write about my own attempts and my own thoughts of suicide. It is important to be able to talk about these things without feeling ashamed. Speaking up is one of the most important ways to fight stigma. My words, like those of all others who've been touched by suicide, are needed in this world. 

I know.

To all of you who have cheered me on, or supported me when I've been hurting, and to those of you who have told me that this site means something to you, thank you.

And thank you especially to all of my fellow suicide attempt survivors and suicide loss survivors. You are the bravest people I know.

And finally, to all those who have lost their life to suicide - know that we are fighting for you. You are not forgotten. The sky lights up for you, today and every day.

God's Will Be Done

I know I'm no doctor but I know
You can't live in the past
But the only way to go is to go back

- Darlingside, Go Back

Eighteen years ago today, my mother let go of her life and I let go of my hope that her troubled heart might heal. Sometimes I wonder which has affected me more, the loss of her or the loss of hope. This is not where I want my heart to land when I think about her. My heart should not be a place that is defined by loss. Because, defying the weight of grief, there is grace here too. What a miracle it is that when you lose hope, hope waits patiently for you to claim it once again. So today, for my mother, I will write what I know of hope.

I once read a definition that suggested that hope was to 'cherish a desire with anticipation'. To me, the sweetest of all those words is cherish. Perhaps when we are faced with loss we have to let go of the hope that things are different, yet we can still cherish what once was. This much is undeniable, to survive loss we must move forward. It is a profound thing then, that sometimes to move forward we must first go back. I must shift my memories of my mother from the day she took her life, and remember instead the best of her. Her kindness, the value she placed on compassion, and her belief something greater than ourselves could relieve of us of our pain.

On this anniversary, I am feeling particular empathy toward the struggle my mother endured in her effort to stay alive. It's been a difficult year for me. I have more in common with my mother than just a love for writing and art. I also share with her the tricky neural pathways that can lead to despair. Some might call these pathways broken, but I prefer tricky. I believe that one day I might learn the secret to their tricks, and repair them once and for all.

Before my mother died, I held on to the hope that she would recover. That she would reach out for the right kind of support. That the right pill or the right doctor or the right therapist would assuage the thoughts that so often took her away from the people that loved her. I believed my mother was damaged, and I hoped that one day, the right thing would fix her. When she died, all of that hope was dashed. I have lived in this place of dashed hope for many years. This fear that the worst of our pain will kill us in the end. When John died, these fears were only exacerbated. For so long I've vacillated between the fear that loss will break a heart forever, and the conviction that when relationships are damaged, reconciliation is not a thing that we can depend on. Some days, there is little space between those two thoughts and the hopelessness that ensues is as desperate as it sounds.

My mother used to tell me that we must ask the universe for the thing that we wanted, whatever the thing might be. The universe provides, she said. For all her unhappiness, her trajectory away from depression always involved a purposeful decision to believe in something greater than her despair. It was that trait that kept her alive. To me, because her beliefs were new-agey and The-Secret-ish, it made them easy to to dismiss. The truth is though, the best of the days that we had with her, were the days she'd made the decision to believe in a peace and a joy that we couldn't yet see.

Sharing tricky neural pathways or not, the truth is, my mother taught me more about hope than despair.

There was a time in my life when my concept of hope was a byproduct of circumstance. When things were good, I had hope that they'd stay that way. I have since learned that this standard made my relationship with hope tenuous, at best. When left to circumstances out of my control, any semblance of hope is quickly dismantled.

It has taken me a long time to see that my mother's efforts to stay alive were an act of intention, as was her ability to hope, too. That is what I choose to remember today. That when we despair, making the decision to live another day is an act of hope in and of itself. And I choose to take those words that I once bristled at - the suggestion that the universe will provide - and turn them into an equally ethereal and spiritual prayer. These four words, uttered by so many, speak to letting go of our own ideas of what should be provided to us and on whose time. These four words sit with me and my own spiritual makeup more precisely:

God's will be done. 

My mother taught me that if we believe that God's will is being done, we are better able to participate in both the heartbreak and the miracles that make up life.

So this is where I will sit today. Surrounded by hope, and hope's shimmering big sister, faith, too. Instead of remembering my mother's loss, I will go back to the days that she was still here. Those are the days that count. I am gathering her memories around me and I am leaning into when she still had hope. That is how I can honor her. 

I don't believe that it was God's will that my mother die, but I do believe that God can soothe a broken heart, and that God is at the root of any and every reconciliation. On the days when my heart is heavy and when I feel lost, I have to make a choice to believe those things still. Those beliefs are intentional. Today, my hope is intentional too, and I offer it up in memory of my mother.  

A New Year.

On this, the eve of a new year, I want to offer again the words I offered two years ago on New Year's Eve. My words then, remain true today. For those of us coping with loss, I hope for us all that we can lean into the healing offered by the love that remains. You can find that post, What Matters, by clicking on the image below.

World Suicide Prevention Day - 2019 - DAY 10

Reach out to someone today.

If you are worried about someone who struggles with mental illness or suicidal thoughts, contact them and tell them that they are important to you. Let them know that their life matters.

If you know a friend or family member who has survived a suicide attempt, reach out to them and let them know how glad you are that they are alive.

If you know a friend or family member who is enduring the loss of someone they love to suicide, reach out to them and let them know that you care about their pain and that you are there to listen, if they need to talk. And then be there, if they do want to talk.

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day. Reach out to someone. And be there.

The Transience of Everything

"I’ve stopped taking anything for granted. I have an acute awareness of the transience of everything in this world. Looking back over my life, I see that everything I thought would never happen to me; good as well as bad, has happened and is happening."

- El Collie Kress

I woke up this morning, grieving. Mother's Day is difficult. Some years more than others. Since John's death, the grief around having lost my mother is heavy once again - despite the fact that I lost her fifteen years prior to him. So I woke up this morning sad and grieving.

I am, of course, afforded some relief when I think about the gift of all of the beautiful mothers in my life today. Those who mother me when I need it, and those who inspire me, regularly. And I am a mother myself, too. I think about my son, and my heart is full, today and all days.

But this morning, I woke up missing my mother. Plain and simple. I wanted to be able to call her and wish her a happy Mother's Day. I wanted to be able to take her to lunch, or dinner. I wanted to be able to buy her flowers. Irises perhaps. Purple was her favorite color.

On Mother's Day, I don't want to think about being a motherless daughter. I don't want to think about loss. And, I certainly don't want to think about suicide.

My mother was 54 years old when she died. Sometimes I let myself grieve for how much life my mother had yet to live. How many days she missed and will miss. How many joys and how much healing sorrow that will never be hers. And this is where my grief becomes piercing. Unbearable almost.

So this morning I turned to her writing. I don't do that very often, even though writing is something that I share with her. I don't often read her stories and essays, because so many of them became so depressing at the end of her life. During her last years, her mental illness was taking hold of her so completely. She believed she was channeling spirits and that she was having a spiritual awakening that caused her to feel all of the pain being experienced in the entire world. She wrote about this process endlessly. She wrote a book about it, and she sent it off to a metaphysical publishing house, hoping for success. She received a rejection, but the publisher was kind enough to provide a letter of explanation. "Your writing style is lovely and sophisticated," he told her. "But, your subject matter is far too dark and dreadful. We are sorry to have to turn this manuscript down."

Dark and dreadful. The perfect words to explain why I don't often read her writing. Her death was dark and dreadful enough. Where were the spirits she was channeling, when she needed help recognizing that there was value in living? How was her spiritual awakening of benefit to anyone, if ultimately she made the decision to take her own life?

But this morning, Mother's Day, I was sad and missing her, my mother with whom I share a passion for writing. I thought about all the words that were stifled the day that she died. I thought about the lost possibility that something might have turned her world around, perhaps giving her beauty and hope to write about. These thoughts left me feeling overwhelmed by what my mother had lost in life experience alone.

So I turned to her writing this morning in order to feel close to her. To feel close to the thing that she and I have in common, this commitment to words. And in and amongst the darkness, I found this one paragraph. In the essay she'd written, the paragraph was not highlighted in any way, it did not particularly stand out. But for me, this morning, it did. It was as if the hand of my mother herself had guided me, gently, to her own words.

"I’ve stopped taking anything for granted. I have an acute awareness of the transience of everything in this world. Looking back over my life, I see that everything I thought would never happen to me; good as well as bad, has happened and is happening."

And, there it was. The reminder I needed, right in this moment. My mother's life and her journey - her story - did not end the way I would have liked. Still, my mother had moments when she felt that she'd had a full life. My mother believed that the good things that she'd doubted would ever happen, had happened for her after all. There were moments when my mother believed that she'd truly gotten what she wanted from this world.

So for today, I will try to turn my focus to this: though my mother's loss is so often colored by her illness and pain - I must remember that her life also encompassed moments of joy. Moments of serenity. Moments of peace. I must remember the meaning behind her own words. A constant principle of quantum physics and spiritual understanding. It is true when applied to the plain old nitty gritty of life and death, as well. This remains certain. There will be change. 

I may not be able to turn to my own mother for advice or soothing, but there are so many other mothers in my life. And I may not have had my own mother in my adulthood, but I can be there for my grown son in no small part, in response to that loss. Today, it is so much easier to see the beauty of mothering that is all around me. And so this truth has the potential to bring as much comfort as it does grief. The undeniable transience of everything.