I lost my grandfather to suicide before I even knew he existed. And while you may think this had no effect on me or my family’s dynamic, a closer look would reveal quite the opposite. Holidays and tall tales at gatherings always had a different tone than other family’s. Grandma’s house always had one chair empty at the dinner table. I will always miss someone I never had the chance to meet.
This feeling of loss will never be greater than that of knowing someone before losing them, but seeing others struggle to move on after losing someone to suicide gave me a perspective on mental health that has only grown as I grew up and dove head first into the social service profession. I wanted to tear down and rebuild a world that was (and still is) critical and often dismissive of its own oppressiveness.
Narrator: They obviously did not succeed.
No, no I very much did not succeed, but I hope I made an impact with the people and community I spent almost twenty years with. But what I learned is that there are many things you cannot control, but how you react to the circumstances can leave an impact on another.
I learned that when I’ve felt powerless to change the situation, presence and consistency can bring stability.
I will pause here to add that no situation is ever the same, and this may not be true for everyone or every situation. There are no blanket statements.
We cannot violate someone's boundaries in an attempt to make them feel better.
When someone we care about is going through a difficult time, we can feel powerless to do anything about it. We cannot heal depression, take away financial worries, or change someone’s situation. We also cannot violate someone’s boundaries in an attempt to make them feel better.
But we can check in, offer assistance, and lend an ear. It can be helpful to ask first, establish boundaries so as not to give unwanted advice, or feel compelled to fill a silence. Sometimes just your presence can be a comfort.
“Would you like a hug, a suggestion, time to vent, or a moment to sit together in silence?”
The Covid years were a difficult time for many, myself included. I went through a crappy divorce after an almost ten year marriage and at first everything suffered. My mental health sank, I could hardly get up for work in the morning, there was no desire to do any of the things I loved to do. I didn’t want to go back to therapy–that meant getting out of bed and that was not something I wanted to do.
I think what helped me stay the most, was creating small things to look forward to: the cookies left on my desk that I didn’t want to eat but started at all day wanting to, the check ins where my friends would say nothing, or all sorts of random things knowing I wasn’t going to respond, but rambled on anyway. The acceptance that this was difficult, they couldn’t really do anything about it, but I also didn’t have to talk about it if I didn’t want to. It allowed me to be in the presence of others, but still maintain control over the situation, something I was not feeling a lot of at the time.
“Would you like a hug, a suggestion, time to vent, or a moment to sit together in silence?”
They were consistent, annoying in the moment (but I’m thankful they were), and unconditional in their friendship. They told stories of their own experiences, divulging a whole host of emotions that made me feel like I wasn’t ridiculous for feeling the way I did. But even if they had not said anything, the awkward silences where I was alone in my thoughts but not physically alone–those were helpful too.
My favorite line from all of their conversations: “It won’t get better, it will just get different.” Because to tell someone it will get better is toxic positivity. Depression doesn’t “get better” and neither do some life situations. The phrase “this will pass” may not apply either because while depressive episodes may pass, there is no guarantee that it will not return. In fact, it most likely will. It is a never-ending struggle.
So check in on your friends, especially those who may be struggling. “Would you like a hug, a suggestion, time to vent, or a moment to sit together in silence?”