Confronting the heavy guilt that survivors feel is very difficult, but very necessary for healing
A couple of weeks ago suicide prevention advocate and trainer, Anne Moss Rogers, wrote a short, soul-bearing essay about the loss of her son, Charles, to suicide in 2015. Since he was a creative, "quirky," young man, she and her husband didn't see red flags in his preoccupation with young, celebrity deaths. After she lost him, Rogers realized her son's rambling speculations had been veiled invitations to converse about his own suicidal feelings. Now, with the penitential insight only those grieving truly achieve, she teaches people to see red flags and listen for signals from loved ones, then to follow up with curiosity and without judgment.
As a multiple suicide loss survivor myself, Rogers' comments activated for me deep empathy, but also, a surprising dissatisfaction. Throughout the year, but most notably when the loss anniversaries recur for the relative, friends and colleagues I lost, I remind those of us left behind that we do the best we can using the information and abilities we have at the time. Sometimes, the reminder is enough; often it isn't because we're haunted by guilt.
I inevitably return to the same rutted thoughts about my people who extinguished themselves: Why didn't I understand their comments, actions, behaviors as the suicidal help-seeking, decision-making, momentum-building that they were? How could I consider myself empathetic yet miss their sense of isolation and desperation? Damn, what could I have done differently?
Guilt stomped through Rogers' essay as it does through the comments and writings of other loss survivors – in my family, in communities throughout Colorado and, likely, throughout the world. Suicide is the great equalizer – no matter one's socioeconomic condition, culture or geography, we survivors all experience a tremendous sense of loss, shock and shame; we are members of a traumatized community to which no one wants to belong. The closer we are to the person who died, the murkier and more disabling the guilt. Several of my relatives felt so despondent that they also considered the same choice, but with professional support eventually worked through their overwhelm. Others, unfortunately, follow through on a final act.
That guilt is the source of my dissatisfaction. I've listened to many suicidologists and trained in all the notable prevention frameworks. Lots of time is spent on symptoms, support methods, language usage and mindset – important aspects undoubtedly. However, the one element I haven't heard discussed is a strategy for dealing with the crippling guilt. Dealing with that emotion is left to post-death grief counselors or community support groups.
It's a short-sighted omission on the part of suicide prevention practitioners. I think it occurs because most experts who teach prevention do so as part of their own healing; helping others by leveraging personal lived experience mitigates the pain. Yet, each time experts leave their guilt unacknowledged, especially in public discourse, they miss a moment to lead by supporting other suffering loss survivors who don't have expertise.
Since survivor guilt runs in the blood, perhaps some experts aren't ready to confront it, but these are exactly the people who must speak out. So many who are searching for guidance will resonate with the struggle to confront and manage guilt. Yes, discussing one's personal guilt is extremely challenging. Yes, it will ramp up personal pain. Still, the more we face those "tough" emotions, the more we will benefit personally, and the sooner traumatized relatives, friends and communities will feel some relief. Knowing that they aren't the only ones dealing with the tremendous burden of guilt can be uplifting. Speaking about it and smashing the stigma around it is empowering for everyone.
So, let's push ourselves. Let's talk with each other about our guilt as suicide loss survivors, then let's talk in public. Those discussions are as important as preventing suicide itself.
