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3 or 10 This morning in my feed was a missing person found passed away from suicide. In the post it said she left a note. My heart absolutely sank.
We don’t need a Suicide Prevention Month, we need to be proactive 24/7 365. We need to notice our peeps, our neighbors, and how Satan works. We need to stop telling people “get over it”.
I’ve been there, I’ve written the note, I’ve isolated myself to execute a plan, gathered the ammo, and I’ve sat so sad that death seemed the best option.
Common core of suicidal ideation is “no hope” or “stop the pain”.
When INDY died of course for a month I had support from family and friends, and then a day came when they all got quiet (Jake even told me “grow up”) while I was still recovering and needing them. Literally I was trying to figure out if going to be with INDY or staying with My Monster was best. Why didn’t I “do it?” Because I knew my Roo didn’t need to plan another funeral. I knew my thoughts were coming from Satan not God.
Fact around this time, is I was functioning on all the social norms, going to work, church, support group, celebrating holidays and birthdays, cleaning house, and “making plans”. No one knew that I was also taking a loaded pew pew, and a bottle of wine, to the very top of the mountain, on logging roads, that no one drove on, to cry. My peeps were not making note of the warning signs that “Annette was not ok”. My church was failing me, my husband was failing me, I believed God was failing me. Inside I was numb, mostly, just functioning to get through the day. I certainly was not feeling joy. Thank heavens I could not crush My Monster, fact is the 3 year old saved my life.
I’m not weird, over the top, dramatic, or selfish. And I know tons of people that have this same scenario, of losing hope.
Not being able to see a future. Not believing life is worth living.
My first marriage ended with a PTSD diagnosis. Yes; it really was really that bad. And I didn’t do PTSD half assed, I met or exceeded every trait. I wasn’t partly broken, I was full on crushed. PTSD is unpredictable, hard core, no ability to turn off the mind. I’m blessed in the fact that Saige was my grounding to keep going. That’s a heavy load for a child under 5. But she was my inspiration to keep going. Many a night I got her to bed, made coffee, turned off all the lights, hysterical crying, knowing I had to hold to the sunrise, so she didn’t get up to find her mom dead.
The social failure is we are not educated to see the signs in our peeps, (saying I was up all night was never noted as sad trauma) and as peeps are not given avenues to prevent the suicide we might feel is coming. We as a public are not told the questions to ask or the meaning of the answers we hear. (I know for a fact I lied about what was going on, for fear of being labeled crazy). As peeps at times we are too lazy to put in the hard emotional work of holding up the person as they are a puddle of sad anger. We shy away from “feeling” the sadness with them, while their goal is to isolate themselves. To hide their weakness. To not be told “that’s just ridiculous”.
How many times after a suicide do we hear two things… “I didn’t see it coming” or “I knew something was wrong”. I promise the one committing suicide heard “get over it” even if it was themselves saying it.
As a society we really need to stop saying “GET OVER IT”. That is a self esteem crushing, uncaring, and painful 3 words.
3 or 10 I still struggle with PTSD, yet proudly actively, prevent symptoms. I’m blessed with a strong desire to keep moving forward. But I can honestly say very few people in my circle step up when suicidal ideation shows up. THAT FACT; IS WHAT EVERY ONE should face. Be a better friend, family member, even stranger on the street.
God turned Lots wife to a pillar of salt for looking to the past, is where “get over it” comes from. I assure society things like PTSD, are not in the past. My grampa never went to watch fireworks. He always stayed home and when asked why, his answer was… “fireworks are exactly what it looks like when explosions come at ships, it’s not a celebration”. (He was blown off of and survived a sinking ship somewhere near England)
I don’t understand why God created a mind that has “night terrors” so real that a man I left in 1991 is still randomly relentlessly beating me. But I do know that every rape survivor, war warrior, molested, car wreck trauma, and beaten child, at any moment can find themselves in gut wrenching agony, so real it is felt in the gut. I also don’t understand why that fact isn’t educated to all the people we meet. It is a very normal response to trauma.
PEEPS; if you need a friend let me know cuz I will sit with you during “hopeless”, scary, unpredictable, uncomfortable, moments in time. We can make a plan to find joy… or sit in silence until hopeless passes. But; I do know… I don’t want to sit at a headstone asking “why?” And knowing you felt alone.
