Suicide is the loss of belief that any day, or hour to come will be better, or that current unrelenting pain will abate, or be ameliorated even slightly.
It is surrender to the belief that every moment will be as excruciating and intolerable as the current one, or maybe worse. It is at essence loss of hope.
I’ve read countless books and articles about suicide in my own search for understanding, peace, and reconciliation with what is so. Few have touched me as much as this article about Jeremy Richman, a man who made it his mission to nurture hope in others after the death of his young daughter in the murders at Sandy Hook Elementary School. He apparently lost sight of his own hope, or had for a while and kept it hidden until he could deny it no more.
I share this article with you if you haven’t seen it, along with a couple of sentences that not only gave me pause but stopped me in my tracks.
“His mind was hurt… Tragically, his death speaks to how insidious and formidable a challenge brain health can be and how critical it is for all of us to seek help for ourselves, our loved ones and anyone who we suspect may be in need…”
It’s why we have a pact in our family to seek professional help whenever we’re overwhelmed with feelings of sadness, desperation, and disconnection. Even when we think they’re only temporary, we speak them aloud in order to a shine light on the bogeymen that linger in the shadows of our minds in our attempt to manage brain health after a suicide loss.
From Michael Daly of the Daily Beast, this morning.
One Bite At a Time 