Let’s talk about death, baby.

posted 30th November 2011    Written by: Laurenne    CATEGORY: All Posts, Laurenne, What I've Learned

Saturday was the International Day for Survivors of Suicide. You may not think ‘survivor’ is the right word for someone left behind after a suicide, but I think it’s pretty relevant. Every 40 seconds someone takes his own life. And every 41 seconds, someone is left to make sense of it. That one second is a war. Everything that follows is a tsunami. There can only be survivors (see the post I wrote about this on the Huffington Post!).

When you get the call that says your father or your sister or your daughter has chosen to leave the world and everything in it (including you), it’s a shock like no other. And it hurts. I think our first instinct is to make it about us. How could he leave me? Didn’t he love ME?  But after enough years go by, we learn that anyone’s death isn’t about us. It’s about despair and depression and a limited field of vision.

My dad thought he didn’t have any other options. He thought suicide was the only thing for him. Of course there were options. If he would have talked to me or any other of his friends, he would have seen a field of options open up before him. Some of those options would have been hard. He might have had to move in with other people or borrow money or get a job he thought he was overqualified for. His life might have been uncomfortable for a time. So, there were options. But they were difficult. So, he took the easy way out. And that has affected me in every single way.

I developed some patterns from that experience.  I learned that even if you love someone, it’s easy for them to suddenly disappear. This has kept me hesitant to commit. I’ve had problems with my self-worth, believing that I was so lame that even my dad didn’t want to stick around and watch me grow up. I’ve felt an emptiness at holidays. I fear my own wedding because there will be a hole, and it’s a hole that was purposely drilled into my life.

So that’s suicide.

And it’s hard to talk about it. People don’t usually respond well to “He killed himself.” when they ask me what my dad does for a living, which is an oddly common question. People feel strange. They apologize. They backpedal. I can see them thinking back to previous parts of our conversation, wondering if they’ve made any jokes about wanting to die.

Talking about suicide makes other people uncomfortable.

I get it. It’s okay. It’s not something accepted by society even though 80% of people know someone who’s done it. But it’s really a big part of me no matter how the years go by. I’m constantly learning lessons from that very experience. I’m often thinking about it even though it happened almost 16 years ago. It’s part of me. And it’s not okay to talk about it with the general public.

I walked into the auditorium at Cedars Sinai Medical Center on Saturday, and I felt at home. Fifty of us survivors sat in chairs and watched a panel discussion broadcast around the world. The panel shared their own suicide stories, their ways of coping, and what they’ve learned. One man had to cut down his 15-yr-old daughter after she hung herself from a tree. Another girl reminded me of myself. Her dad killed himself when she was 12. I was 16.

There we were, tears crowding our eyeballs as we listened. And then, at the bathroom break, I talked to an older woman. “Who?” “Dad. You?” “Dad too.” “Plastic bag over head. You?” “Rope.” “How old were you?” “23. You?” “16.” “Cool.” “Nice to meet you.”

A few words in a conversation, and I felt the relief of a thousand sighs. It was so nice to be in an environment where people understood. I didn’t have to skirt around the topic. I didn’t have to debate about whether or not I would tell anyone the whole story. We all knew. We all shared the same event. The same grief. The same knowing smile.

And it was beautiful. To be surrounded by people who understand you is such a comforting, beautiful thing. I have waited sixteen years to go to one of those events because I thought I didn’t need it. I didn’t want suicide to take up even more of my life. But, as I learned from all the people in there that day, it really never goes away. And that’s okay. And I might as well be with people who really get it while it’s still a part of me.

I’m usually leery of clubs or groups that offer solidarity. When I travel, I’m always confused by all the expats that stick together. I’ve always thought it a thing to ponder that people leave their countries to get away and then end up meeting up with others of their same country while in another country. But, now I get it. It’s nice to just spend a moment with others who know. I felt, as I sat there among the survivors on Saturday, like I was being cradled, hugged by one hundred loving, understanding arms.

Solidarity. Who knew?


[Photo credit : A photographer! That's me and my pops circa 1983.]

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Comments (20)

20 Responses to “Let’s talk about death, baby.”

  • Lindsay Says:
    November 30th, 2011 at 1:42 pm

    Wow. You? Brave.

    That's all.

  • Sonia Says:
    November 30th, 2011 at 2:04 pm

    We all tend to forget there are others that have been affected by suicide, not just ourselves. Thanks for this!

  • Simone Says:
    November 30th, 2011 at 2:13 pm

    so beautiful. your soul is pure. thank you for talking about a topic most people run from.

  • Najela Says:
    November 30th, 2011 at 2:21 pm

    This post is so emotional and raw, thank you for posting. Although my father didn't commit suicide, he did pass away when I was 3 years old. There is a sense of longing and emptiness that people just don't seem to understand unless they've gone through something similar and even then, I have no idea what it's like to lose someone to suicide, but I do know what it's like to lose someone. Thank you for this post.

  • Flo Vitale Abel Says:
    November 30th, 2011 at 2:41 pm

    you are awesome, my friend!! We don't know each other well, but now have insight into your blessed soul! I loved your dad at one time too….he was good…lost but good. I know he's now in God's hands not troubled or sad any more. Hugs to you!!! You are beautiful…inside and out. I know Jim would be proud of you!!

  • HeyBeccaHey Says:
    November 30th, 2011 at 3:02 pm

    I so feel you on the wedding thing.

  • Becky Says:
    November 30th, 2011 at 3:44 pm

    My cousin killed himself 4 and a half years ago. On Mother's Day in his bedroom. I'll never forget it–it was the worst day of my life. We grew up together and it hit me really hard. Thank you for sharing your story.

  • laurenne Says:
    November 30th, 2011 at 5:16 pm

    Mothers Day?! It's so strange how much it happens on holidays. I wonder why. Ugh, I'm sorry you had to go through that. One day Mothers Day will go back to normal again. I promise.

  • superawesomeashley Says:
    November 30th, 2011 at 6:15 pm

    My dad didn't commit suicide in the "traditional" sense, but he was an alcoholic and basically drank himself to death, so I have some of those same feelings attached to it. You know, the "I wasn't even worth it for him?". So yeah, I feel ya. Thank you so much for sharing. And I know it's cheesy, but *hugs*!

  • erin Says:
    December 1st, 2011 at 6:06 am

    Wow. I loved this post Laurenne. Obviously not the content, but the writing and also your braveity (is that a word?). Thanks for sharing.

  • Dusti Arab Says:
    December 1st, 2011 at 9:20 am

    A friend I went to school with decided to commit a joint suicide with his friend because he had stopped taking his bipolar medication.

    My friend died. His friend didn't. He is blind now and speaks about suicide prevention.

    Go you for bringing this up, hon.

  • laurenne Says:
    December 1st, 2011 at 10:52 am

    Thanks, friend!

  • laurenne Says:
    December 1st, 2011 at 10:53 am

    80% of people! AND NOBODY TALKS ABOUT IT!!! So weird. Just like we all take shits every day. Come on! Why is it so taboo? Get over it!

  • laurenne Says:
    December 1st, 2011 at 11:04 am

    Suicide, alcohol, cancer… I'm sure they all leave a similar hole. Thanks for reading and for your nice words. Hugs!

  • laurenne Says:
    December 1st, 2011 at 11:05 am

    YOU ARE AWESOME! Thank you for being here. Can't wait to see you at Christmas time! FAMILY! Without my amazingly supportive family, I could never have come to such conclusions.

  • laurenne Says:
    December 1st, 2011 at 11:06 am

    Wedding. UGh. Well… we have both made other honorary family members, and they'll fill all the voids. RIGHT?

  • laurenne Says:
    December 1st, 2011 at 11:08 am

    Well… I have come to the conclusion that they just couldn't see us in the picture. If they had, they would have ABSOLUTELY deemed us 'good enough' for a change. But… in many cases, I have learned that some people think others will actually be better off without them.
    I'm aware of this thinking, but it still Fs with my head sometimes. That's okay! We are totally worth it. I swear.

  • laurenne Says:
    December 1st, 2011 at 11:10 am

    Oh… and totally not cheesy! HUGS!!!!!

  • laurenne Says:
    December 1st, 2011 at 11:10 am

    Ugh! Wow. Look what that's turned into! Perhaps your friend's life was meant to help save all those people that the other guy affects with his speeches.

  • LSV Says:
    December 1st, 2011 at 6:44 pm

    I know I keep saying this….but it is totally true…….You have become one of the most intelligent, beautiful, thoughtful, funny human beings on the planet…….my brother would be so proud of you…..I know this singular act has plagued you for years……as it has me……why didn't he reach out???? Why couldn't he reach out to me??? We will never know…….only speculate…..I am glad you receive some comfort and maybe a little peace from sharing your experience with others and they with you…I'm proud too… xxxooo

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