Dear Reader,

After my father’s suicide, I searched for books to help me through my grief process, but there weren’t many available, especially not one page meditations. The nature of recovery from a loved one’s suicide, for me, was silent. The people that knew about my loss did not know how to console, and I rarely spoke about my father’s suicide. I was afraid of what others may think of my father or me. Unearned shame kept me quiet. I needed words and feelings from someone who had walked down the same path. I did not need graphic descriptions of a person’s suicide. I couldn’t deal with words that brought home the horrible scene of finding my father. But still, I needed to know that the churning feelings inside me were normal. With the thought that possibly another person could relate to my feelings, writing them has been a catharsis.

For me writing has always been a release. There was an old game I used to play as a child called pick-up-sticks. The object was to remove one stick at a time without moving the others. That’s what writing these meditations has been like for me; I picked up one thread of a thought at a time to look at and express. Singling out just one thought and developing it into concise words was difficult and frustrating. Yet, it left me with a clear heart and the ability to get on with my life. Writing these one-page thoughts were both my own cathartic attempt to make some sense of what happened to me after my father’s death, and my attempt to help others cope with their sorrow.

Writing was just one tool in my efforts to heal from the grief of losing my father. Professional direction from a psychologist helped me to understand, also, that once I was able to see my father as no longer in pain then I could begin my own healing. Joining a support group gave me confidence to stop isolating and helped me to talk about my father’s suicide.

Efforts at good writing ask the writer to always speak their truth. It was the truth that I adhered to in these reflections. I did not whitewash the pain. If you have lost someone to suicide, I hope my truth will not cut sharply into your agony. And painful though they are, I believe these reflections have a healing grace. I hope that you will find something in them that will help.

Sincerely,

Karen Phillips





Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Police Panelists Discuss Suicide Prevention

I sat right up front at the seminar, but I didn’t ask one question while a panel of police negotiators discussed their side of what happens when called out to a suicide attempt.  I was at a special program put on by a suicide support group.  What I heard filled me with a new respect for the police.  In some ways it helped lighten my guilt and yet burdened me with even more.  I learned that it took more than one person to talk someone out of suicide, and it took a lot of connection.
Thoughts deviled me that I didn’t do enough to connect with my father.  It was always hard to give him direct attention.  In his depression, his indifference was a barrier.  I didn’t know about assessment questions then, and probably wouldn’t have had the courage to ask them if I had.  But, I knew something was wrong, didn’t I?  Guilt ate at me like termites.
My recent anxiety came, though, because I sat in the middle of crisis prevention counselors.  Their focus topic on how to stop a suicide was altogether different from mine, the aftermath of a suicide and how to get past it.  One policewoman said it was better to err on the side of too much attention.  Sitting there listening, I felt emotionally engaged to my father’s death realizing the things that I or someone else could have done for him.  I quietly ached with my self-imposed blame that I didn’t “err on the side of too much attention.”
The negotiators all agreed that if someone completes the effort of suicide then that is the time that the police have to emotionally disengage.  Each agreed that negotiation was all about control and connecting psychologically with that person.  I shook my head and thought “for me it’s all about letting go and disconnecting.” 
Has my guilt been more self-made than actual?  The police negotiators said that “it takes a group of about ten people to negotiate successfully” someone out of a suicide attempt.  I was but one person. 
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