How to Save a Life

Between the lines of fear and blame, you begin to wonder why you came.

I have this sort of unwritten rule that prohibits me from using the tragedies of another to serve my own agenda. It might seem I don't apply this to my late husband, Mark, and his suicide, but when speaking about him, it's typically about my own experiences, not his. I generally try to stray from putting someone else down in order to lift myself up. Nobody's perfect, but I'd like to think I do a pretty good job of it, at least most of the time. I've also on multiple occasions been referred to as a "pushover" and "too nice", which should sum up most of my life for you.

...and probably give you some idea as to how I ended up in my current predicament, the suicide widow of a compulsive gambler.

Therefore, I'm not sure what to say about the recent suicides of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain. For starters, I'd rather reference their "deaths" than their "suicides", but that doesn't seem to get as much attention, unfortunately. In fact, had they died of natural causes, this week would simply have occurred to most people as sad and, respectfully, it would be highly unlikely for me to even consider referencing them in my blog. My phone case was designed by Kate Spade, and I've long enjoyed watching Anthony Bourdain's shows, but claiming that either of them has had a significant impact on my life and that I'm terribly saddened by their passing by anything other than suicide would be an arrogant lie. I'd like to argue that they should not be remembered solely by the manner in which they died, but for a while, they probably will be, even on my part. I'd like to write something thoughtful, and I've been appreciating that other suicide survivors have come up with some clear perspectives and points to make, but the whole thing feels a bit hazy to me. Part of me is thrilled to hear others speaking up about mental health after over a year and a half of what has felt like standing alone and screaming my words into a strong wind that carries my message away before anybody can hear it. 

HellOOOOOOO!!! Am I the only one here who knows it's okay to talk about suicide and mental health??? It's the 10th leading cause of death in our country, for the love of goodness!!!!

But can I really be that upset that people are starting to talk more about such important issues that impact ALL of us, even if it is at the expense of two high-profile suicides in one week? Of course I can! But no, not really.

There I go being nice again...

The thing is, this whole situation sucks. It sucks that these two beloved people chose suicide. It sucks that they reached the point where they couldn't stand to be alive any longer. It sucks that it took two more suicides to get people talking. It sucks that their families don't get to grieve in privacy. It sucks that well over 2,000 people in the world kill themselves EVERY SINGLE DAY. It sucks that "it sucks" doesn't even begin to describe how it feels to lose a loved one to suicide, which in the early days is little more than an experience of utter confusion and that you perhaps live in some sort of alter universe in which absolutely nothing makes sense.

I'm not going to offer any new advice because, at this moment, I don't have any. Everyone has been posting and sharing all the right things all week. It's not rocket science. The only thing to do now is go act on it and check in on your people. Seriously, it's that simple. I talked to one of my Marines for two hours last night purely because he reached out saying he was feeling down and needed somebody to talk to. I didn't have any magical advice; I just listened. And very quickly, he was laughing, relieved by the simplicity of conversing with another human being.

I also don't have a conclusion. Even after almost two years since Mark's suicide, I'm still quite often in a state of disbelief. Though it's much less debilitating than it was before, it's still there. And judging by the experiences of my fellow suicide widows and suicide survivors, that feeling will probably never go away. They say the hurt never leaves; you just make room for it. Much to my dismay, they're right.