Surviving Suicide - Part 2 of 2

Five years had passed since my mother’s death, and I decided to finally get help. I had absolutely no idea how to fix my problems, but I knew something was terribly wrong. The thought of living the rest of my life in this state was unimaginable, so I went to the University’s counseling office and made an appointment to meet with a therapist.

Five visits turned into five harrowing years as I dredged up everything from childhood as far back as I could remember. In some sessions words were not even spoken, as I would simply sit and weep over the hopelessness my mother must’ve felt, seeing only one way out of her troubles. I couldn’t relate to it at all; we were not cut from the same fabric and that fact slashed at the pillar of my identity. Would I wake up one day and suddenly the world would be sideways with a pinkish tinge and everyone would be speaking Frenglisharian (French, English, and Hungarian)? My brain blowing a circuit was a very real fear. I slogged through each session reopening many aching wounds, not realizing at the time that because I was getting things out in the open in a constructive manner, that progress was being made – like depositing money into an investment, the proceeds of which are not immediately visible but continuing to make the deposit nonetheless.

Just shy of the five-year mark of being in therapy, I was graduating from MBA school and decided that it was time to close two chapters in my life at once – school and counseling. I didn’t have any Ah-HAH! answers, but the time seemed right. I did have a decent job, a good boyfriend, and a place of my own – plenty of constructive areas in my life to work at and improve.

The boyfriend was a Christian, a born-again Jesus Freak (see The Sign), and little by little I pieced together who God really is, not the Stern Distant Judging Father I’d see Him as earlier on. When I was 28, He reached into my life and in one divine Fell Swoop, I plainly understood why He allows suffering to come into people’s lives, among other things such as His Son taking my place on the Cross because He “so loved the world…” (John 3:16a).

I’m 43 now and it’s been nearly 30 years since my mother’s suicide. Though I don’t claim to have all the answers, and I’m no hero, there are a lot of lessons I’ve learned through her death, such as:

• Why did it happen? We live in a fallen world full of death, disease, injustice, inequality, abuse, babies who die, terrorists who kill thousands in the warped “name of God.” Sometimes we suffer by our own hand; often people suffer because of the choices others make. Either way we must live with the consequences of these choices.
  
  
• Why did God allow my mom to die? Strangely enough, because He loves me. I can only imagine the direction my life would’ve taken had she lived. It’s entirely possible my life would’ve been consumed with taking care of my mother (and aging grandmother). I may never have gone to college, met Steve or his kids, or had a fulfilling career that allows me to help others.
  
  
• Where is God in all this? Right here with me, walking and talking with me. Looking back, He’s always been here. One must go through the valley to stand upon the mountain and this is a universal principle that proves itself out in endless life experiences. It’s primarily through suffering that you become even more “tuned” to the voice of God. Did you last pray to God when things were in the toilet, or when you were flying high?
  
  
• Suicide is immensely tough on those left behind. Feelings of guilt or responsibility often accompany the devastating sense of loss, and these should not be discounted. A good therapist is WORTH IT, no matter how painful or meaningless it seems at the time. With patience, progress does come, but one must be consistent, willing to hang in there as long as necessary, and honestly deal with your problems. The Blame Game only works for so long.
  
  
• I am left with an ability to feel deep compassion for those who have experienced traumatic loss in their own lives. All three of my stepkids are facing serious life issues right now, and though I don’t always say the things they want to hear, I have sorrow and compassion for the hardships they face and will never turn them away or minimize their pain.
  
  
• I’ve learned I’m most fulfilled when I’m helping others. If I can live through an experience like this, I want to help others through trials and hardships in their own lives. We live in a Microwave Society that expects quick fixes to everything. With serious pain, this is just not possible and expecting anything different is a serious injustice to the value and dignity of the human being.
  
  
• I’ve learned to never say quit, to carry on through anything life hands me, to “run with perseverance the race set before me…” (Hebrews 12:1b). This runs so deep in me, it’s one of the many reasons why I train and race, especially endurance distances. You can’t fake it; it requires training, discipline, and hanging in there even when things look grim.
  
  
• God answers ALL prayer. Sometimes His answers are No. Just because He doesn’t fix something the way I want Him to doesn’t mean He isn’t fixing it. If we always gave our kids what they wanted, we’d always be giving them sugar. God’s perspective is wildly beyond mine – I’m the proverbial ant crawling over a Rembrandt painting; I can’t see what He sees.

I was sure by now
That you would have reached out
And wiped my tears away
Stepped in and saved the day

But once again, I say Amen
And it’s still raining…
And as the thunder rolls
I barely hear you whisper through the rain
“I’m with you.”

And I’ll praise you in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For you are who You are
No matter where I am

And every tear I’ve cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise you in this storm

-Casting Crowns “Praise You in the Storm”