Talking about Suicide

May is Mental Health Awareness Month and the topic hits very close to my heart.  I've had the fortunate opportunity to step into a career--where I am supported in talking openly about mental health and work towards making a difference.

Some of you know, but many of you may not know that my family has dealt directly with mental health and illness.  For us, it lead to suicide, and I'm hoping you'll oblige me today to read more about my journey, struggle and hope regarding this topic.

Suicide is an ugly, misunderstood word. The mere fact that we use the phrase "commit suicide" is worse.  My brother committed to many things, but suicide was not one of them. I would argue that suicide, or rather--mental illness--committed to him.  I challenge myself regularly to change this language and reinstate the integrity behind the real problem: mental health.  No one "commits suicide", but plenty die from it...

Let me back up and tell you more about my brother.  Grant was a smart, confident, athletic, strong-willed, passionate, and yet stubborn individual.  He made friends easily and could pick up any sport with ease.  He was much more of a leader than a follower--and had two younger brothers that would easily attest to that fact.  As his older sister, I was both impressed and dismayed with him--or rather his outlook on life.  Grant could always find the short cut to success, whereas I would follow the rules, hoping it would bring about the same result.   He was very much my polar opposite in a lot of ways and yet I knew he would drop anything for me. His charisma carried him through many challenges in life.  Simply put, Grant was an enigma--people loved to be around him and most would agree that he had big things ahead in life.

Which is why I was beyond shocked to learn he died and in the manner that he did, and at such a young age...only 21.  Sure, he was stubborn and would have a bad temper, but nothing that we found unusual.  He just seemed like a typical, young twenty-something guy.  I will forever replay our interactions and playful banter for the rest of my life--and dream of the relationship we were meant to have.  But all of that is gone now.  My boys will never know their uncle--and yet I see so much of him in them. 

Perhaps the worst part about his passing was the shame--the sheer misunderstanding--that we had around the circumstances.  Ten years ago I did not talk about how he died or why he died.  There was stigma, fear, doubt, guilt and judgement around suicide. And I would say that it is still there today.  There are a lot of "what ifs" and "should haves".  There is a lot of misunderstanding.

So I am here today to talk about it.  To talk about him.  Grant.  My wonderful brother that I would give anything to have back.  I would not hesitate to take part in another one of his debates...or indulge him in his latest, greatest idea.  He was a smart, dynamic human being and I hope that by talking about this topic today, he will be honored and remembered.

If you want to join me, I humbly urge you to take part in the national movement.  Research.  Talk.  Take action.

We talk so openly about our physical health--sharing on social media without a second thought.  But why don't we talk about our mental health--something that is equally, if not more important?  

I challenge you to tag a photo on social media with #eachmindmatters and let's work together to reduce stigma and raise awareness.

Thank you for listening today.

xo natasha