**WARNING: this blog contains sensitive content about suicide and grief, and reader discretion is advised**
In recent years there has been a massive push for more sympathy and understanding about mental health. People have been actively working to eradicate the stigma around mental health illnesses, and encouraging those in need to seek professional help.
I am grateful for the work so many people have put in to normalize caring for mental and emotional health.
But a sobering lesson I’ve learned is that every battle won’t be won.
A week ago I found out a friend had taken their own life. This will be the 3rd time I’ve received news that someone I knew personally made such an ultimate decision.
It is unimaginable the pain they must have been in to push them to such finality.
This loss hit me hard, in so many ways.
In my eyes this person was so strong, so confident, so charismatic and so very intelligent. In my eyes they exuded confidence and character, security in themselves and a drive to succeed.
My heart ached and raged that something was so awful in their life that it could take such positivity away from them. That something could blind them to seeing the light they emitted to others.
What’s more is that I couldn’t grasp how even though they’d been so loved and supported, even seeking professional help, they still determined that ending their life was the best option.
I struggled with the relationship I had with this person. We were not close friends. In fact, we hadn’t talked in a long time. We had lived in a dorm together for 3 weeks many years ago. We had conversations and learned about each other, but we generally spent time with other people exploring separate interests.
The distance between us complicated my grief even more. Only a year before I’d struggled with almost the same thing, and because of this tragic repetition I felt weighted down by grief.
A year ago, a friend from school took their life. We weren’t particularly close, but I saw them almost every single day for 3 years or so, had many a conversation and appreciated their warm spirit and quiet thoughtfulness.
Over and over, this time and last, I’ve asked myself if there was something – anything – I could have done to help. Maybe I should’ve spoken to them more. Maybe I could have told them all the positive traits I saw in them, so even if they couldn’t see them, they’d know someone else could. Close friends or just acquaintances, why hadn’t I taken a few moments every now and then to tell them how highly I thought of them?
In this struggle with grief I continue to ask myself the same question; “am I allowed to feel this pain?”. Am I allowed to be heartbroken, to cry, to feel angry that everything just continues on even though the world has lost a beautiful soul? Or am I being selfish, as I wasn’t there for them enough before?
I went about my week as best I could and I continue to do so, but reality is that the loss is never far from my mind. It is morbidly beautiful how life goes on. A mentor told me that yes, I should continue on, but it’s important to take time to acknowledge and accept the grief.
Keeping all your pain inside rarely amounts to anything more than pain.
I have no resolution after all of this. I have no motivational sayings, no band-aid to make it all better. My heart continues to hurt for those lost, and I still consider the ultimate question; “why do bad things happen to good people?”.
The best I can do is extend my love to any and all who have trudged through this far. You are not alone. You are loved. I believe in you. You are worthy, you deserve to take up space. Even when your demons are at their loudest, I believe in your resilience. You are not alone.
National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255, https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
