Talking About Suicide and 8 Simple Rules For Dealing With A Grieving Sister

There's nothing like hunting for a job to completely take the wind out of your sails and make you feel like a talentless, pathetic blob.  It's downright soul-sucking.

But at least I have a husband.

Major props if you got that reference without the help of the gif.

I do like that I have plenty of time to muse about things and let my inner monologue run wild.  I wasn't even planning on writing a blog today, but the first paragraph sort of popped into my mind and then I had to write the rest of it.

So, here we go.  I'm going to try really hard not to sound preachy, but I'll inevitably fail at some point.

I'm not the first girl to lose her big brother to suicide, and I know I won't be the last, either.  I don't think my story is particularly remarkable, nor do I think my ability to articulate it is particularly remarkable.  What I do know is that suicide is rapidly becoming in epidemic in our society, and there's no way those frightening statistics will take a turn for the better unless we actually open our mouths and talk about it.

I get it.  It's awkward, it's uncomfortable.  You're naturally curious but you don't want to say or ask anything that might offend a grieving family.  Sometimes you don't know what to say at all.  You might think it's better not to broach the subject at all for fear of upsetting someone or making it worse.

Don't worry, friends, because I'm here to help put some of those concerns to rest.  Bear in mind, I don't pretend to speak for everyone who's ever lost someone to suicide.  I can't even speak for everyone in my immediate family.  I don't have that jurisdiction.  But I've learned a lot since June 15th, and I've had the opportunity to talk to a good friend of mine who also lost a brother to suicide, and if we can both agree on some of these things, I think there are probably lots of others who feel the same way.

Rule Number 1: Don't ever be afraid to reach out to someone who has lost someone to suicide -- reach out in whatever way makes you comfortable.

In these times, you can argue that Facebook messages and texts still seem less sincere than a handwritten letter, but that doesn't mean they're not worthwhile.  I received condolences in every possible manner of communication I possess, and they all meant a lot to me.

Rule Number 2: Don't feel like you can't mention my brother, speak his name, or even say the word "suicide" in my presence.  I don't mind talking about him.  Or it.

More on this later.

Rule Number 3: I don't mind if you ask questions.

It means you're interested, and I appreciate that.  If I really and truly think you're prying, you'll know. Chances are, I won't be bothered.

Rule Number 4: You're not going to say anything to offend me, unless you're actively trying to.

I know there are people who think suicide is selfish and cowardly, but I don't think I know anyone who's enough of an asshole to say it to my face.  You can't accidentally offend me on the subject.

Rule number 5: Don't feel uncomfortable if I cry or don't cry.

Sometimes I cry, sometimes I just don't.  Whether I do or don't is no indication that you've said something wrong.

Rule number 6: Don't worry.  There's nothing you can say or do that'll "make it worse."

We've been to hell and back, already.  At this point, we're pretty much made of steel.

Rule Number 7: I've answered the question "how are you doing?" a thousand times, but I still appreciate you asking.

Seriously.  Even the smallest gestures mean so much.

Rule Number 8: I accept that life eventually returns to normal for just about everyone else, but just understand that it really doesn't for the immediate family.

That's just how it is.

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So, I think these are all helpful if you're unsure how to act or what to say around someone who's grieving, but Number 2 is a big one for me.  I would never assume that everyone who's dealing with the aftermath of suicide is just dying (no pun intended) to talk about it, but that's the point I'm trying to make.  If they're willing to talk, we should all be willing to start having this extremely difficult conversation.

The word "suicide" itself is one that feels awkward on the tongue.  Nobody likes to say the word, no one even likes to think about it.  And if you know someone who has recently lost someone to suicide, lord knows you'd never be so callous and cruel to ask them about it.

And yet, according to 2013 data collected by the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, it's the 10th leading cause of death in the United States, even outranking homicide.  It's a massive problem, and growing in prevalence, especially with additional data from the CDC indicating that depression affects 20-25% of American adults in any given year.  It's rampant.

(Cue, Billy Mays voice.)

BUT WAIT!  THERE'S MORE!

Every single day, an average of 105 Americans die from suicide.  That means that since Mike's death on June 15th, approximately 50 days ago, 5,250 groups of American families and friends have had to go through the same crap we've gone through.  That's not even two months.

In other words, it's ridiculous how common suicide is becoming.  You'd have a hard time finding anybody who hasn't been affected by it in some way.  Let me put it to you this way.  I wasn't even the first person in my group of friends to lose an immediate family member to suicide.  I wasn't even the first person in my group of friends to lose an immediate family member to suicide this year.

And I don't even have that many friends!

But it's still too taboo to talk about.  Hmm.

That's the thing though.  I have no problem talking about my brother's suicide and I love talking about him.  Just like back in the days when "proper" folks would whisper shamefully about so-and-so having a baby out of wedlock, we need to take the shame and the awkwardness out of suicide.

So, like I said before.  I'm not remarkable, and what happened to my family is not particularly remarkable in this day and age.  These are just the thoughts of one suicide survivor (I still hate that term for some reason,) trying to do her part in starting some damn dialogue regarding an all-too-common cause of death.  Almost everyone knows someone who's suffering, so what's the point of keeping secrets from each other?

In conclusion, I can't speak for everyone, but I can tell you a few things about me.

1. I am not ashamed of my brother, or the fact that he took his own life.
2. I don't mind talking about my brother, or the fact that he took his own life.
3. Even if it makes me cry, I will never mind if you bring him up in conversation.
4. Suicide is a bitch, and it's not going to go away if we're all too afraid to talk about it.

Please share this blog far and wide, if you feel so inclined.  Let's take the secrets out of suicide.