Suicide

Last night was the second of our three-evening seminars on Mental Health. The topic was suicide. The topic was painful. The topic was heavy. But in the end there was hope. We had three people share their story. One was a grandmother who lost a grandson to suicide. The other two stories were shared by young men who had each attempted suicide and survived. They talked about their experience, how it has effected them and what it means to still be alive.

The room was filled with 50 people. Many came with their own stories of suicide, stories of their own attempts or the attempt or death of a loved one through suicide. It is such a tender place and such holy ground to face such deep grief. As difficult as it was for people I think the evening provided both solace and comfort. For one, people learned they are not alone, in fact many, many homes are touched by death this way. The Centre for Addiction and Mental Health reports that suicide is deadlier than car accidents. While approximately 2500 Canadians will die each year from motor-vehicle related accidents approximately 4000 Canadians die annually from suicide.

We learned about language. It is not helpful to talk about “committing” suicide in the same way people “commit” a crime. People “die” by suicide. We learned that when we have concern for someone we should ask outright are you considering killing yourself? Often for the person it is a huge relief to have their intentions identified and to be able to talk about it. We learned that it is not helpful to make the person feel guilt or shame but to stand by them, support them and reassure him or her that we love them. We also learned that places of employment can be a huge support when they take the person’s mental illness as seriously as they take a person’s physical illness. An employer that holds a job for a person needing time off to get well due to mental illness is providing a huge avenue of hope for the patient. We also learned that sometimes when a person dies from suicide we will never ever know the reason nor understand what happened or why and, as hard as it is, we just have to live with that unknowing.

For our community of faith these conversations have shifted something for us. It has made us aware of each other’s vulnerability. It has opened doors for conversation and helped us drop that façade that we are all “doing fine” and face the reality that many of us live with painful stories of brokenness but we are still okay. It has helped our community become authentic in sharing and caring. And that is a good thing.