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Children of suicide

Posted on by Adele Ryan McDowell
Unhappy Child Sitting On Floor In Corner At Home

Unhappy Child Sitting On Floor In Corner At Home

Suicide is frequently a sudden, surprising and shocking death that leaves family members reeling in disbelief and heartache. Suicide is akin to lobbing an explosive into the middle of the family. There is enormous collateral damage.

For children, the death of a parent is a traumatic event, which is especially intensified for young children. However, when the death is a suicide, the trauma is heightened even more.
Arguably, suicide is the hardest death to accept. There are so many unanswered questions.

Young children do not readily understand the concept of suicide.

 

Read more here.

 

(Young Minds Matter initiative: http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/adele-mcdowell/children-of-suicide_b_9233092.html)

Suicidal grief: non-ordinary time

Posted on by Adele Ryan McDowell

bluepurpledandelionLoss is universal. It is also idiosyncratic and unique. We each handle loss in our own way. There is no right or wrong way to come to terms with death.

It is hard, exhausting, and excruciating work to make sense of the un-sensible and to unpack and repack a life that you have held with such love and affection. You will need time and space to work through all the layers of feelings as you remember and revisit all that you experienced and shared with the one you lost.

Loss requires time, time to accept the unacceptable and time to feel the undulations and reverberations of your loss. There is no time limit—grief takes as long as it takes. Grief opens you up in ways you never thought possible. Unexpectedly, you will find yourself remembering other losses in your life as well. Grief builds upon grief; like pearls strung on a necklace, every loss becomes connected, close to your heart.

Trauma is also a cumulative experience. We hold traumatic events in our cellular memories. They are not forgotten. And like grief, a new trauma can trigger feelings from a prior trauma. This is important to consider, as suicide is both a traumatic and grief-filled experience. The double whammy of grief and trauma can sometimes be so overwhelming that it is hard for you to stand or eat or sleep or even make simple conversation.

Dealing with a suicidal loss requires extreme gentleness as you wade through the minefields of emotions. Past, present and future can collide in a stream of what was and what could have been.

This is non-ordinary time. You will see the world differently. Your baseline has changed. What was once terra firma is no more. Everything is shifting around you. You wade through deep emotions, conflicting feelings and the sheer agony of loss.

And, then, when you are hollowed out and spent, there will be a day– as unbelievable as it feels — when you refind your feet and connect with your newly pieced-together heart. On that day, you will be to take a step forward without toppling over.

Go in peace, dear one.

Our loved ones are gone but not lost

Posted on by Adele Ryan McDowell

angel in the sky

Early one Monday morning, their minivan had been hit hard, hard enough to flip over. Cassie recalls that at the time of the accident she was wearing a black and white summer skirt. When the minivan stopped rolling, Cassie noticed that her skirt was becoming red. With shock and horror, she discovered that her brother was crushed beneath her. Cassie felt tremendous guilt that she was alive and that her brother had perished in the accident.

In one of our last sessions together, with Cassie’s permission and some prior prep work, I invoked the presence of her brother and asked for a message to help Cassie heal and assuage her suffocating guilt. Admittedly, Cassie was a bit suspect of this part of our work, but her curiosity outweighed her reservations.

Cassie was stretched out the couch, and I was seated in a chair placed near Cassie’s head. Cassie listens, with little or no reaction, as I relay messages from her brother. I then tell Cassie that I sense her brother is doing cartwheels down her body. Cassie begins to sob. She had felt the cartwheel movements before I even uttered the words.

For Cassie, this was physical proof of a connection with her brother, and served as a first step in her healing

Read more here…

When you are the survivor of suicide

Posted on by Adele Ryan McDowell

sad young man

Suicide is not an easy conversation. Period. It is weighted with the feelings of real or perceived judgment and taboo.

Survivors search and seek for answers and clues about the thinking and feeling behind their loved one’s choice to irrevocably end it all. How could this be? Why did this happen? What caused this? What was the tipping point? Didn’t you love me and the kids enough to stay? What could I have done differently? Why aren’t you here? You know it was their choice, but you still feel responsible — in a conflicted, connected way — and wonder if you could have done anything to change the outcome.

For the survivor, suicide is unbelievable and surreal. It is a game changer. Your life is permanently altered. It is the day time stands still. It is the day you stop taking a full breath. It is, alas, the day people can avoid you; talk about you; and, even, blame you.

Continue reading here:

http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/adele-mcdowell/grieving-suicide_b_8615376.html

Another year passes

Posted on by Adele Ryan McDowell

 

Another years passes. It does not take way the sadness. In fact, the new year can be like a knock at the door reminding you of what has been lost. Hopefully, as you have starrynightnavigated the deep and often treacherous waters of grief, you have regained some of your footing and been able to take a deep breath or two. You know life is a process and a progression but none of that really helps. What helps is remembering and talking and feeling the heart connection with your lost loved one.

This year, if you don’t already do it, look for signs and symbols. As a teacher of mine once told me — and as she was told by her teacher — if you think it’s a sign or a message, it is. Follow your heart. There may be a blue heron circling or a yellow butterfly that hangs out for 20 minutes on your arm or the sound of your son’s laughter. One man thought it was his imagination as he often felt his brother in the passenger seat of his car as he drove to work. A medium later confirmed his frequent morning experiences.

This year, open your heart and mind to the possibility of more connection and confirmation from the other dimensions. All things are possible. And love is a powerful force of connection.

 

What if the suicide was not so surprising?

Posted on by Adele Ryan McDowell

contact-treeYears ago, I worked at an urban drug clinic. In my early days, I was assigned a new client—let’s call her Mimi—for my caseload. She was being released from long-term care in a psychiatric hospital, where she had been hospitalized for a near-fatal suicide attempt. It was her seventh attempt; Mimi had lethally drugged her dog, and she had barely survived herself.

At our first meeting, Mimi said she wished she had succeeded in taking her life and could join her German shepherd. At our next two sessions, Mimi talked less about suicide and focused on the possibilities of work or school. At our last session, Mimi uncharacteristically bounced into the clinic. I had never seen her so happy. I was thrilled. We made an appointment for the following week, but that never happened. Mimi had secured another cache of drugs and ended her life at a local motel, hours after our session.

As a young therapist, I did not realize that Mimi’s unusual happiness, given her psychiatric history and prior emotional states, was an indicator that she had decided to take her life again.

Individuals who have been in and out of psychiatric hospitals, have attempted suicide multiple times, and/or have dealt with the extremes of bipolar disorder are at high risk for suicide.

Their families and loved ones have lived through the duress of chronic crisis states and the cycles of hospitalization, new meds, and help. Suicide threats are far too common in their households. These families have witnessed the get-out-of-my-life locked doors and the crashing explosions of fury; they have listened to the refusals to be hospitalized or take meds. They have seen the mind of their mentally unstable loved one unravel with delusions, spiral with grand plans, and crash with tangled emotions and distorted thinking. It is exceedingly difficult, stressful, and heartbreaking for everyone.

And, if the unstable one ends his or her life, it is often not a total surprise. Suicide has been percolating on the back burner as a possibility for some time. It doesn’t lessen the impact of suicide or the heaviness of grief. Sometimes, however, there is relief that their loved one is no longer in agony. Their loved one is now free from the internal torment and, hopefully, has found a place of peace.

Understanding helps us heal

Posted on by Adele Ryan McDowell

After you have lost a loved one to suicide, you feel anything but powerful or strong. Most likely, you are at your most vulnerable, full of heartbreak and deep grief.

Suicide leaves a trail of questions and uncertainties. Knowledge can help make some sense of the unimaginable. When we learn more, we have a basis for comparison. We realize, perhaps, that our situation is not so unusual. Plus, we can accept more fully the biochemical or psychosocial elements that have led to a suicidal action. When we understand more, we are no longer so confused, confounded, or upset. We find steadier footing, and we find ourselves more emotionally and mentally stable. Indeed, knowledge can serve as a powerful healing ally.

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Mayo Clinic: healing suicidal grief

Posted on by Adele Ryan McDowell

downloadWhen a loved one dies by suicide, overwhelming emotions can leave you reeling. Your grief might be heart wrenching. At the same time, you might be consumed by guilt — wondering if you could have done something to prevent your loved one’s death.

As you face life after a loved one’s suicide, remember that you don’t have to go through it alone.

Brace for powerful emotions

A loved one’s suicide can trigger intense emotions.

  • Shock. Disbelief and emotional numbness might set in. You might think that your loved one’s suicide couldn’t possibly be real.
  • Anger. You might be angry with your loved one for abandoning you or leaving you with a legacy of grief — or angry with yourself or others for missing clues about suicidal intentions.
  • Guilt. You might replay “what if” and “if only” scenarios in your mind, blaming yourself for your loved one’s death.
  • Despair. You might be gripped by sadness, loneliness or helplessness. You might have a physical collapse or even consider suicide yourself.
  • Confusion. Many people try to make some sense out of the death, or try to understand why their loved one took his or her life. But, you’ll likely always have some unanswered questions.
  • Feelings of rejection. You might wonder why your relationship wasn’t enough to keep your loved one from dying by suicide.

You might continue to experience intense reactions during the weeks and months after your loved one’s suicide — including nightmares, flashbacks, difficulty concentrating, social withdrawal and loss of interest in usual activities — especially if you witnessed or discovered the suicide.

Dealing with stigma

Many people have trouble discussing suicide, and might not reach out to you. This could leave you feeling isolated or abandoned if the support you expected to receive just isn’t there.

Additionally, some religions limit the rituals available to people who’ve died by suicide, which could also leave you feeling alone. You might also feel deprived of some of the usual tools you depended on in the past to help you cope.

Adopt healthy coping strategies

The aftermath of a loved one’s suicide can be physically and emotionally exhausting. As you work through your grief, be careful to protect your own well-being.

  • Keep in touch. Reach out to loved ones, friends and spiritual leaders for comfort, understanding and healing. Surround yourself with people who are willing to listen when you need to talk, as well as those who’ll simply offer a shoulder to lean on when you’d rather be silent.
  • Grieve in your own way. Do what’s right for you, not necessarily someone else. There is no single “right” way to grieve. If you find it too painful to visit your loved one’s gravesite or share the details of your loved one’s death, wait until you’re ready.
  • Be prepared for painful reminders. Anniversaries, holidays and other special occasions can be painful reminders of your loved one’s suicide. Don’t chide yourself for being sad or mournful. Instead, consider changing or suspending family traditions that are too painful to continue.
  • Don’t rush yourself. Losing someone to suicide is a tremendous blow, and healing must occur at its own pace. Don’t be hurried by anyone else’s expectations that it’s been “long enough.”
  • Expect setbacks. Some days will be better than others, even years after the suicide — and that’s OK. Healing doesn’t often happen in a straight line.
  • Consider a support group for families affected by suicide.Sharing your story with others who are experiencing the same type of grief might help you find a sense of purpose or strength. However, if you find going to these groups keeps you ruminating on your loved one’s death, seek out other methods of support.

Know when to seek professional help

If you experience intense or unrelenting anguish or physical problems, ask your doctor or mental health provider for help. Seeking professional help is especially important if you think you might be depressed or you have recurring thoughts of suicide. Unresolved grief can turn into complicated grief, where painful emotions are so long lasting and severe that you have trouble resuming your own life.

Depending on the circumstances, you might benefit from individual or family therapy — either to get you through the worst of the crisis or to help you adjust to life after suicide. Short-term medication can be helpful in some cases, too.

Face the future with a sense of peace

In the aftermath of a loved one’s suicide, you might feel like you can’t go on or that you’ll never enjoy life again.

In truth, you might always wonder why it happened — and reminders might trigger painful feelings even years later. Eventually, however, the raw intensity of your grief will fade. The tragedy of the suicide won’t dominate your days and nights.

Understanding the complicated legacy of suicide and how to cope with palpable grief can help you find peace and healing, while still honoring the memory of your loved one.

This article was written by the Mayo Clinic Staff.

www.mayoclinic.org/healthy…/end…/suicide/art-20044900

The choice by Janie Brown

Posted on by Adele Ryan McDowell

images (18)This is Janie Brown’s beautifully compassionate and loving response to a friend’s struggle with mental illness and later, suicide. The original piece was featured on Krista Tibbett’s “On Being” blog, where Janie Brown was a guest contributor.

Dearest you,

The phone message you left yesterday from an unidentified B&B somewhere on Vancouver Island said I would know by morning whether you had chosen to live or die. You said the pills were lined up, counted, on the dresser.

A month before when you were unraveling again, you asked us, your closest friends, what we thought about you choosing to end your life, and we all said the same thing: “You must be tired of it all after so many cycles of mental illness in your sixty-two years, but with medication and therapy you always get better.” We always had a “but,” a reason we wanted you to keep choosing life. We hadn’t accepted you had a terminal illness then, a terminal mental illness. If you had advanced cancer, we might not have tried so hard to encourage you to keep going, if you hadn’t wanted to.

Today, I know what I want. I want you to live so we’ll carry on being friends, as we have for twenty-five years. I want you to continue to sharpen my knives and bring me organic beef for the freezer when you come to town. I want to call and hear your business voice on the answering machine. I want to look across the room and feel your heart as wide as the universe as you play your ukulele with abandon, your voice belting out Bob Marley’s “No Woman, No Cry.” I want to feel your love for me, your deep caring that my life matters to you.

Most of all I want you to be happy.

But I know it’s not about what I want.

If you choose to live maybe you’ll find a sweet little home here in Vancouver just around the corner from us, and we can have dinners, and music nights, walks, and late-night conversations. We can work together, cook together, and drink good wine together. Ultimately, we would see each other through and out of this life.

If you choose to die tonight, I will carry no judgment, just a huge ache in my heart of missing you. You have lived a beautiful life, and a tough one. You have had to encompass more internally than anyone I have ever known, and I have nothing but admiration and respect for the way you have conducted your life. You are a good person. You have tried. You have succeeded on so many levels. I hope that if you choose to leave, you will truly know what a life of devoted service you’ve lived, and that you have loved, and that you have been loved in return.

Whether you choose to live or die today, I will always love you.

She chose to live that night. She said she was too scared to be alone, as she died.

A week later her psychiatrist and her closest friends encouraged her to go to a hospital where she would be kept safe from harming herself, and hopefully receive the treatment she needed to heal.

Even though she persuaded the occupational therapist to take her grocery shopping so she could make mulligatawny soup for the other in-patients (being a nutritionist, she worried the hospital food wouldn’t help them to get well); even though we snuck her out to a restaurant for a big salad, and a hearty glass of Cabernet Sauvignon against hospital regulations.

Even though we took a guitar and songbooks to the common room of the acute psychiatric unit, and sang together, and doors opened and patients peeked out, slowly sidling up to join the sing-a-long until an anxious nurse shut us down for fear of over-stimulating the patients.

Even though she did her best to maintain her dignity as her body survived the cycle of acute illness — her soul withered, slowly and quietly, over those months committed to a psychiatric unit.

Six months after she returned home, she told me she was unraveling again. She didn’t ask her friends what she should do, or tell them what she intended to do. One year ago this month, she didn’t wait until she was too ill to make the choice to die.

The day someone you love chooses to die must always feel too soon. September 5, 2014 was too soon for me, but I know it was likely not a moment too soon for my beloved friend. That day ended a lifetime of living with the enormous challenge of mental illness, a lifetime of immense loving and whole-hearted living, and a lifetime that impacted me more than I can possibly comprehend yet.

 

Janie Brown is the executive director of the Callanish Society, a nonprofit organization she co-founded in 1995 for people who are irrevocably changed by cancer, and who want to heal, whether it be into life, or death. An oncology nurse and therapist for almost thirty years, Janie explores her ideas through stories on her blog www.lifeindeath.org and is working on her first book.