Communities I’d Rather Not be a Part Of

In the wake of my hometown losing a young man this past weekend to suicide, I felt it was time to dust off this post and finish something I have been working on since May.  It is a very difficult subject, which is why I’ve gone back and forth in writing this piece.  As his family and friends are mourning the unnecessary death of a 13-year old – YES – 13!,  I feel that something making positive statements is necessary.  Maybe ‘positive statements’ is pushing it … what can be said about suicide that is positive?  Other than the fact that it is preventable?  Actually, that’s a pretty positive statement.  It won’t help those that we have already lost or those of us left behind with heartbreak, but when we open our eyes and realize we can help someone, it may be the greatest revelation any of us have today.

We hear a lot about the need for more transparency for mental health issues, for supporting our military, police and first responders.  Untreated or improperly treated PTSD is a killer and I truly believe that statement.  But let’s not ignore the fact that suicide is also man-made.  WE, as humans, are at fault for constructing a culture in which suicide becomes an option, and, for far too many – a solution.  People are bullied into suicide.  People are emotionally, physically and sexually abused into suicide.  People are degraded and discriminated into suicide.  There’s only so much we can blame on chemical imbalances or acts of war.  We have to realize that humans have a crucially important role in preventing someone from taking their own lives.  Yes, I am not naive enough to think that true mental illness does not exist.  I have lost a friend to suicide via mental illness.  And I will not blame myself nor his other friends, family, acquaintances or co-workers for not doing enough.   Medication, counselling and public awareness is sometimes not enough and cannot save everyone, I am afraid.

But what about those who we can save?  What about the children that are bullied into giving up?  What about those who experience traumatic experiences at the hands of someone they should trust?  What about our military & first responders, who are left with sub-par mental health care to deal with the things they endure as a part of their job?  A job that is a public service, a job that is keeping the rest of us safe?  I don’t have the answer, I know that.  But I do think that shifting our culture to one of kindness instead of self absorption is a good start.

I started this post several months ago, and part of what you will read now was written immediately after my sister and I, along with thousands of others, participated in an overnight walk with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention:

As I’m getting older, I’m finding that the term “community” means more and more.  I always thought of the community as referring to the area where I lived.  I associated it with geography only and as consisting of the people who lived and worked near where I did, people who may not have shared too much in common with me other than their postal address.  Community has grown to mean any group with something in common.   Of course it could refer to geography,  but it also encompasses groups that gravitate to one another due to religious beliefs, culture, movie preferences or a taste for certain foods or hobbies.  All fantastic communities to be a part of; they are based on positive experiences in the past and the desire to cultivate more positive experiences in the future.

There are, however, some communities that form for reasons that are not quite as desirable.  I’ve written in the past about suffering two miscarriages and how I found out that there is a community of women and families that don’t talk about their pain until someone new is initiated into this group.  Not one of those people wants to be a part of such a heartbreaking community, yet they share their (our) stories so that new members realize that loss of pregnancy is much more common than anyone realizes.

There is another community that I have recently discovered in an unfortunate way.  I’ve actually been lingering just outside the bubble of this community for several years, aware that it must exist but not really wanting to admit that I am a part of this group.  It is the community of suicide survivors.  Losing someone, a friend or loved one, a co-worker or classmate to suicide is unlike any other loss. I have written about this before.  I’ve touched on my own experience and how I have made strides in “healing” or “moving on” from a devastating experience.  I’ve unfortunately learned recently that many other people struggle with the same uncertainty and confusion.

Losing a friend to suicide hit home for me and my family just over three years ago when my sister’s boyfriend left us.  I’ve written before of the anger, confusion, heartbreak and strange feelings that we all went through.  I don’t want this to be another story of my how I did – and continue to – try to make sense of this loss.  I want this to be a story of the community I’ve found that is supportive, loving and strong while at the same time sad and devastated.

This past May, I travelled to San Francisco to participate in an overnight “Out of The Darkness” walk for suicide awareness.  We walked 16 miles up and down the hills of the city and shared stories of sadness, but also stories of hope.  A few years back, there was a gentlemen on the verge of suicide – literally leaning over the railing of the Golden Gate Bridge.  A police officer talked him down and turned his life around.  That lost soul was saved, and, as he spoke to us before our walk, he impressed on us the importance of listening to those who may be struggling.  He realized his life was worth living and even chose this event to make plans for his future, proposing to his girlfriend on stage in front of thousands of people that were grateful he was alive.

That night, as my body was so physically exhausted and pained, I felt energized by the thought that I’m lucky my pain was only physical.  I’m encouraged that there is a community of loving and caring people that want the most for everyone’s lives.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed that I’m a part of this community.  The day to days of it really sucks.  But when my heart breaks as I hear of a child succumbing to the pressures of being bullied, I can also feel uplifted that there are so many thousands of kind souls working to prevent these tragedies.  I’m proud that I am a part of that community.  I can tell stories of the fabulous people that I met that were left behind, like the gentleman that walked the entire course – literally – “in his sister’s shoes” – high heels …  in San Francisco.  There is so much love in this community.  But you better believe we don’t want to have to accept even one more person into it.

I end this with a plea to be kind to each other, to realize that people’s circumstances may be far different than your’s but that we are all just trying “to get through this thing called ‘life.'”  (RIP Prince)  If you find you’re a competitive person, set your goals high in helping the most people or saying the most kind words instead of making the most money or having the most power.  I promise you will get more satisfaction from giving and receiving love than you ever could from cars or fancy clothes.  Let’s keep this ‘community’ of suicide survivors from growing any larger.

In loving memory of CC, TOB, BC.

www.afsp.org

If you are in crisis, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

tel:+1-800-273-8255 (TALK)