World Suicide Prevention Day 2021

I was asked a question a few days ago as to what I could contribute to support World Suicide Prevention Day on the 10th of September.

As we all will learn, every day is suicide prevention day.

Although I have never considered myself suicidal, there have been a number of occasions in my recent history when the thought of ‘not being here’ was attractive. The thought of ‘I wish this would all just stop’ (the stuff going around my mind) popped into my head quite regularly.

There were very few people who would have witnessed this, if indeed any. Outwardly I was strong and enjoyed company, enjoyed a laugh and a chat, enjoyed being busy and active. But it was all a mask, there were many masks, and barriers were well and truly up and robust.

I spent a lifetime covering up any cracks, not showing actual feelings, stuffing any issues down in the big black bag of things not to be seen, making sure nothing escaped. Bizarrely I didn’t know I was doing it until….

I found the black bag after I retired and had a look inside, then over a few months the feeling of not knowing who I was, or if I had any purpose, at all, bubbled out in the form of tears, panic attacks, a nervous breakdown, separation, and possible depression.

Darkness engulfed me.

But it didn’t take me.

Help came. But to be brutally blunt with myself, help was always there, I just didn’t see it. It may seem somewhat surreal to some, but I had always had a sense of ‘something’ outside of me, and I have since found that the ‘something’ is my authentic self, my ‘I am’. And it is not outside of 'me', it is the authentic being behind, but linked to, the experience being.

But at the beginning help came riding over the hill in the form of counselling, coaching, reiki, talking and listening. The ‘something’ was putting these things, these opportunities, in front of me, and this time I took notice.

I discovered that one of the biggest influences came from talking and listening. It wasn’t the talking and listening you do at the rugby club bar, nor on the pub night out, nor the coffee machine at work, nor, sadly, with your partner or kids. And I suspect not the talking and listening you do with the GP, they used to have a listening service although it was no longer available, and they only seem to have 10 minutes – it would take that just to get started.

It was the type of talking and listening that I had never experienced before. The type where you slowly start to feel that the space is safe, and you slowly start to let your feelings pop their head around the corner. The type where you slowly start to realise that the person you are sharing the space with bears no judgement, zero. The type where you slowly start to see that all that crap in the black bag is not just in your black bag but in everyone else’s too.

I learned that I was not alone. It was ok to feel, to trust, to talk. It was scary but it was ok.

This was massive for me. Probably the biggest.

The world, my world, changed in that moment, from being alone in the cold dark dank night, to seeing the dim, hopeful light of dawn, to walking, striding, proudly into the bright warm daylight. (It still rains from time to time, but I have an umbrella now, and I know that the storm will pass)

Recognition, then acceptance, of my fuck-ups led to realisation that the past was to be let go, to stop carrying it in your heavy bag of woe. Experience. Trauma. Bad turns. I recognized it was me that had created or at least took part in the whole of my experiences. Then, even if the actions of others impacted on me significantly, it was down to me to shape how I responded, and anyway, there is zero way of changing any of the past from 5 minutes ago never mind 5 decades ago. So, look at it, say ‘yes that was me’, put it down and let it go, turn around, and walk forward. I could now take responsibility for what I chose next.

The previous paragraph took me 2 years or so. But the process had started. And may go on for a long time yet.

The bits that led to the breakdown were only a part of my life. But a tin of white paint with a drop of black in it, turns grey. One bad apple in a barrel….. A car with a flat tyre is going nowhere. Etc, etc, etc. Yet for all our bright, healthy, magnificent lightness, we know our own corners of darkness, and they dominate.

The point is that there was a lot of good, but I didn’t see it.

I do now. And I see it in everyone.

My experience with counselling opened my eyes to the value of talking about my fears in a safe space. I know that others have not had the same experience of counselling as me, for whatever reason. But mine was a good one, I embraced it and continue with it to this day although the subject matter is now significantly broader, deeper, and more aspiring.

My experience of Andy’s Man Club was and is humbling and inspiring in equal measure. The strength of individuals is phenomenal. The support from all is remarkable.

My experience with Reiki has changed my purpose and alignment. The energy I was fighting against has been lifted and the new energy is settling into a more peaceful flow, even with the rocks that need negotiated now and then.

My experience of being coached helped me to honestly look at the self-burden that I was carrying and see it for what it was – an unclear story that was suffocating me in shame and guilt and had to be let go. And it gave me the tools to release it. And it helped me to discover and start to display the authentic me.

We all have our own stories of life. From the people that I have had the privilege to connect with this last wee while I understand that the stories have common threads but are individual. Some stories seem much darker than mine to me, but the most supportive people are the ones who have gone to the gates of hell and returned – they understand that each journey can go there no matter the beginnings, and they hold out their hand to guide you out of your own hell towards your own light. You do of course have to take that hand yourself.

We often start with feeling that life is happening to us, it allows us to blame others for our situation, we can call it ‘that’s just my luck’, we can say ‘I have always been like that’, we can put it on others – our parents, our abusers, our teachers, and we can feel we had no choice and have no choices.

But then maybe we can feel that life is happening for us, that we have a lesson to learn, maybe karma is playing its part, maybe there is a bigger picture and maybe we have some tiny influence on our experiences. There is a glimmer of something, we just don’t know what.

But ultimately we find that life is happening from us. We create our own experience. Life happens. There are sunny days, cloudy days, and stormy days. There are successes and disappointments. There is love and there is fear. But our reaction to that roller coaster is our choice.

Recognition of this is the beginning of the journey to empowerment. And that is indeed scary to start with. To know that we are our own creator of the next step, when perhaps we feel that we have never been shown how, perhaps we feel the hand we were dealt was unfair, but to know that we are empowered to create is enough.

We are all enough.