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| Photo: fr.treklens.com/gallery/photo |
Suicide. It's a harsh, ragged, ugly word. It conjures
equally dark, despairing mental images, and finally, it inflicts a quality of
pain on those left living that is difficult to quantify.
My family is weathering such an event. It is very fresh, having happened
this past weekend. One of my cousins took her own life. I will not
go into further detail, as I want to respect my family and her beloved memory.
What I want to talk about today is all of the emotion that swirls around
this verboten word, verboten act.
Judgment is almost instantaneous when you hear the word
"suicide".
- "Oh, they must've been
very weak."
- "Suicide is the coward's
way out."
- "Why didn't they ask for
help?"
- "They're in a better
place."
- "I'll pray for them,
because they're going to burn in hell eternally."
I think most of these are understandable thoughts, human ones. And they are very
common to hear after a suicide death, I am learning. But I will tell you,
from my own very raw emotional state, they are unnecessary and they're cruel to
speak to anyone who is weathering the fallout out of suicide. We who are
left behind to pick up the pieces do not need to defend the actions of
our loved one. We do not need to come up with logical answers as
to why that loved one made that final decision. No one but that person can
answer what thoughts went through their mind that tipped their hand in those
final moments. We need for you to be there for us in support, love and
care. Sadly, this is rarely what people think to offer, or they feel
that any of the above comments are somehow going to offer solace. They do
not do that. What gives solace to each of us will differ, but just know
that words of judgment are not appropriate or helpful when a family is coping
with a suicide death.
In my opinion, anyone who commits suicide is far from weak. Nor
are they cowardly. Consider the amount of bravery it takes to make that
final motion that ends your life - could anyone honestly imagine that a weak
person is capable of such a thing? I think it takes a huge amount of
bravery, but I'm sure many will strongly disagree with me. Weakness is
certainly evident when anyone is in such a distressed and despairing state of
mind that death appears to be their only viable option, but that is not a
weakness of character. It is a state of mental illness that should
engender compassion and understanding, rather than strident jumps to
condemnation and judgement.
Why didn't they ask for help? Good question. It is one
that will torment those left behind for many years, perhaps for the rest of
their natural lives. Perhaps that person DID ask for help, and no one
listened, or the plea wasn't recognized as such....those being asked simply
didn't realize the enormity of the request. We all get busy with our
daily existence and we brush aside seemingly surface level conversations that
later, after a death has occurred, suddenly clarify and show us the depth of
pain that loved one was in. So, we turn that judgment and condemnation
inward and the pain is compounded daily, like the interest rate on a bank loan.
Depression is not one dimensional, and it is simplistic to suggest that it can be doctored up and resolved if the person suffering a depression episode just talks to someone. It is different for every person who experiences clinical depression as to how it manifests, but there are some commonalities.
I can say with a fair degree of confidence that most people suffering a depression cycle who have taken that final step to commit suicide have gone through multiple rounds of therapy, have talked and talked with friends, family and pastors, preachers and spiritual advisors, have put in earnest work on themselves, have taken prescription medications and tried holistic therapies. They've reached out during those initial scary first, second, third and more attempts to take their lives, and if they were lucky to reach out to the right person and they were willing to be talked down off the proverbial suicide ledge, they're still living today. With depression, the reality is that it is usually a repetitive cycle these people experience and it is a grueling, grinding experience that eventually wears them down.
A mindset that has nothing to do with clear, mentally healthy logic sets in where they convince themselves that the world will be fine, and their loved ones will be better off without them.
Yes, they know that people will grieve, but they are convinced that this final act of taking their life is truly for the best, and they're doing the world and their loved ones a favor. The skewed mindset that takes over makes this train of thought sound just convincing enough to that worn down, tired spirit that that terrible final decision is enacted.
The reality is that if someone you love is set in their mind on taking
their life, not much any of us can say or do will have much of an effect other
than to delay the inevitable.
- Most likely, that loved one has attempted suicide
more than once in the past, or they've given a lot of thought to it, or they're
dropping hints in conversation that they're contemplating it, and the hints are so minute and purposely veiled that people don't recognize the warning flag.
- Most likely, they've cried wolf repeatedly to the point that those close to them become inured to that one final time that they're really serious. OR, another truth is that they've exhausted those close to them with repeated suicide attempts and those people have run out of ideas to help, support to offer, energy to pour into that bottomless pit of despair that no one but that individual can heal.
- There isn't any
blueprint for how someone approaches suicide or makes that final choice, but if
there is any truth to accept, it is that most likely, nothing any of us might
have said or done could have stopped that person from their actions. And because of this, no one should EVER be made to feel guilty because their loved one took their own life!!
They're in a better place. Perhaps they are, given that anyone
who contemplates suicide is in an obviously dark, despairing emotional and
mental space. I will tell you that hearing "they're in a better
place" is not what I want(ed) to hear in those first few hours. I
was blessed to be able to call someone close to me and equally blessed that
that person came to my side immediately and stayed with me through the majority
of that first awful day. He didn't offer platitudes, judgments or any of
the above comments I've listed. He was simply there for me.
Allowing me to cry, allowing me to process through the wildly swinging
pendulum of emotions, and simply being there for and with me. That was
what I needed. A familiar face, simple companionship, sincere care and
friendship, and the space to process the rawness of grief. Other people
might find comfort in platitudes and surface level statements; I do not mean to
throw out my own harsh judgments when I know that every person who utters such
platitudes is truly doing and saying the only things they know. I am
sharing here what worked best for me.
I'm not going to dignify the "they're going to burn in hell
eternally" comment beyond simply saying shame on anyone who is thoughtless
enough to utter such a statement to someone who has just lost a loved one to
suicide. Yes, I heard this statement this week, more than once, and I
found it to be the most incredibly ugly, unnecessary, rude thing I've
ever heard in my life. Please, exercise common sense, people. No one
deserves to have to hear such a thing about someone they loved. Prayers are
most certainly appreciated, but comments about eternal damnation? Absolutely
not.
Most of us have heard of the five stages of grief:
1.
Denial
2.
Anger
3.
Bargaining
4.
Depression
5.
Acceptance
Several years ago, I wrote about this whole thing, the grief process, and
how it tends to manifest around High Holy Days, how suicides and deaths
increase around Christmas and Easter and other Holy Days. (Holiday Stages,
12/21/2009 Healing Morning) In that article, I discussed the fact that
those five stages of grief don't necessarily neatly process for us one single
time and get tied up in a pretty bow to be tucked away and never felt again.
In fact, grief is never neat and pretty. It is jagged and raw and
ugly, and has no semblance of logic to it. Nor do those stages of grief
hit us only once. They revisit in varying degrees over the coming years. I
am well aware of this fact, so I know I will be dealing with ebbs and flows of
my own grief process for a while....probably for years. Right now, I
cannot imagine ever reaching a stage of acceptance where I will not miss my
cousin with a sense of urgency and bewilderment.
Suicide creates its own well of pain, simply because it is a conscious
act, a choice, that most view with the aforementioned condemnation and
judgment. I am certainly not going to suggest it is a good choice, or a
rational one. But I will say that for those left behind to pick up the
pieces, understanding and compassion towards the whole situation is the kindest
thing anyone can offer. That means understanding and compassion for the
ones left behind AND for the person who committed suicide.
Suicide also engenders a lot of silence. People are uncertain
what to say when death by suicide occurs. So, they quite often fall back
on awkward silences or those harsh judgments mentioned above. If you can't
bring yourself to understand why that person made that choice, and really, none
of us can truly understand such a thing, then I would hope you can be capable
of extending your heart in a compassionate manner. Do your level best to
keep your judgments to yourself, because they do not belong in the midst of
those who are grieving.
My personal thoughts are not of anger towards my family member who took
her own life. Yes, I feel anger, but more towards the whole mess. I
feel anger that she will no longer be here to experience the beauty of our
family and the beauty of life. But more importantly, I am saddened beyond
words to express that she's gone. She's gone forever from our family,
that familiar presence that I have always known to be there. A beautiful,
vibrant, talented life was cut short. She's not here any longer, and I
miss her already. I will miss her for the rest of my life, and I'll have
to put conscious effort into learning to live without her. We are tasked
with that chore when any loved one passes, but suicide makes the loss sharper,
simply because it wasn't Destiny at work. It was choice at work.
And it didn't have to happen. It did happen, though, and my family
is left with learning to live without her. What I feel towards my cousin
is love, and what I will always feel for her is love. Compassion. Sadness.
A true wish that she had made a different choice. An obvious desire that she
hadn't done this and I still had her here with me. But abiding love is
the mainstay.
I am experiencing a flood of memories of this cousin. Childhood
memories, all of us growing up together, and she being our role model.
Bright, happy, beautiful. In the coming weeks, we will have a memorial
service during our yearly family reunion. I will be delivering the eulogy for my
cousin. And my own conscious choice is to celebrate her life, rather than
dwell on the final dark moments that led to how her life
ended. There is much to put into words, this process of celebrating
a life. Right now, I am not certain how I will accomplish it.
Eventually, the words will flow as they always do, and I will have pages
of words to speak in her memory. The speaking part....that is where I am
still unsure how I will do it. How I will get through it. Will I
choke up? Break down in tears and be unable to continue? I hope
not, as I staunchly insist that although suicide ended her life, that word
does not define the beautiful person she was.
In the wee hours of the night after she left us, I finally calmed enough
to check my Facebook page. The following quote from the Persian
poet-philosopher, Rumi, is what resonated strongly for me:
Although I may try to
describe Love,
When I experience it,
I am speechless.
No words can ever truly capture the essence of that person we each
loved, nor can they give voice to the depth of love we feel for them, nor can
they express the acute pain we feel when they leave us in an untimely manner.
Perhaps now, words aren't necessary any longer. Simply remembering
her loving Soul, her smile, her laughter, her simple enjoyment of life, her talent, the sound of her voice,
the way it felt to hug her, the way she brightened the room, these are enough.
To any who read this who have experienced personal loss of a loved one to
suicide, my thoughts, love, and prayers for healing and compassion go out to you.
