Mental Health Awareness Month: How I Learned to Talk About Suicide

In honor of Mental Health Awareness Month, I wanted to share something I wrote two years ago about the word suicide. It's a word that I once could only say in a hushed voice. Even when I shared with people that I had attempted suicide, I could barely say the word.

Since that time I've learned a lot about suicide prevention as a volunteer and advocate. It's a word we all need to know, and say.

(Trigger Warning: This blog may trigger people who have struggled with suicide or loss someone to suicide)

The Secret Word

When I sit down and think about it I’ve said the word suicide more in the past two years than I
said my entire life. Two years ago I don’t even think I knew how to spell it right S-U-I-C-I-D-E.

According to the dictionary: Suicide is the act or instance of taking one's own life voluntarily or
intentionally.”

The thought of suicide never entered my existence growing up. I didn’t know anyone who died by suicide personally, we never talked about it in Physical Education class where we learned about hormones and our ever changing bodies. The word never came out of my parent’s lips, my pastor’s
lips, or my teachers. 

The first time suicide entered my existence was on film in the movie, ‘Introducing Dorothy Dandridge’
with Halle Berry playing the lead. I found myself absorbed in the story of Dorothy Dandridge,
a beautiful singer and actress who rises from a nightclub to Hollywood stardom. Dorothy's story
tugged at my own little girl dreams of becoming a star, and making it big in Hollywood. Dorothy
owned the screen in her most famous movie role ‘Carmen’. But, speckled in the midst of success
was great pain and turmoil. Things I did not understand. The last scene of the movie still permeates
in my mind. A Dorothy Dandridge is found dead at the age 42. If I remember the last scene right,
Dorothy is looking at family pictures seemingly in sadness over the tragic parts of her life. 

As morbid as it seems, there was something kind of romantic to me about Dorothy’s suicide,
a tortured soul finds release in death. It is said towards the end of Dorothy’s life she had as little
as $2 in her bank account, had endured two bad marriages, and the heartbreak of caring for a
disabled child. In my young teenage mind, suicide seemed like a plausible way out. It made sense.

I never thought looking at my this HBO special through my parent’s television that I would ever feel
so hopeless I’d want to die by my own hands. But, in 2014 I did. I had been researching ways to
seemingly die in my sleep for days. And, one May Day I decided it was time for my great escape,
my time to fade away from the problems that ailed me. Each Google search I did directed me to
The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. For minutes on end I would stare at the green and
black letters S-U-I-C-I-D-E with the a telephone positioned as the letter C. Could the person on
the other end of that line really help me in this moment when I all I want to do is escape?
Will they call my parents? Will they lock me away in an institution?

I know now the answers to those questions. Yes, people who call the lifeline are more likely to be
connected to treatment. I could be hospitalized, and it was what I needed. No, each call is confidential.

But, I had no good frame of reference at that moment when I attempted to take my own life.
I only remembered Dorothy, and how it seemed her death righted her wrongs, and punished
the people who had hurt her. I survived my attempt, but the cold, sad truth is thousands don’t.
I’m convinced part of the problem is - we don’t talk about suicide. In the nineties I was more concerned with catching AIDS, having a baby or getting black lung
from cigarette smoke than suicide or mental health. I remember when I first started my career
as a Certified Peer Recovery Specialist merely mentioning the word suicide made my body tense up.
I would often say it in an whisper as if speaking the word spoke it into existence; gave it legs, arms,
and a body to grab hold of me or anyone hearing the word. My voice would quiver when the strong
S sound escaped my lips S-U-I-C-I-D-E.

Today, as a mental health speaker and advocate I say the word suicide more than I ever heard in my life as a teen. I am convinced that part of saving lives is talking about the realities of suicide and mental illness. We can’t begin to change this alarming suicide rates if we can’t even say it in our schools, churches, homes, or to our children. Silence on suicide is not an option. We have to be comfortable saying it, looking at it in the eye. Words have power.
I know this as a journalist, social media personality, and writer. I hope moving forward we use the
power of our voices, our words, and our time to take the silence out of S-U-I-C-I-D-E, take it out of the
darkness and show people there is so much light left in the world and their lives are worthy of feeling
the glow.

If you are struggling with thoughts of suicide-- please call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline.
Avaliable 24/7. All call are confidential. If you know someone who is struggling, CALL!
The Suicide Prevention Lifeline can give you guidance on how to help.
Check out their website here. If you prefer text, text the Crisisline at 741-741