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0 By Frances Beck
I keep going over and over conversations that I had with Conor. I deconstruct everything that was said, to see where I could have picked up something I missed that could have made a difference. It’s like living in constant replay. I’m not trying to torture myself. This is the understandable replaying of the ‘what ifs’ that plague the loved ones left behind following a suicide. It’s not something that is constantly in my conscious thoughts, but it’s there all the same. Time is not making things easier. In many ways, it seems to be getting harder. I’m not sure if that’s because the shock is now wearing off, and as time marches on, it’s no longer as easy to imagine that this is a nightmare that I’ll wake up from.
Burying emotions does not work
I’m a relatively positive person. I have learnt over many years to challenge the negative voices in my head. Though, that doesn’t stop them from showing up or shouting very loudly. Trying to ignore them doesn’t work at all, because they continue to get louder and louder until you listen to, accept and deal with them. Exactly the same thing is true for grief and all the emotions that it brings with it. Trying to bury those emotions does not work. Over time, like a weed growing up through concrete, those emotions will emerge and demand to be accepted. And because they were not acknowledged in the first place, they will have become more amplified and much more overwhelming.
Not dealing with negative thoughts and emotions can, over a prolonged period, have a hugely detrimental effect on our mental and physical health. Sitting with grief and feeling everything that it is trying to teach us is how we move through it and start to heal. We will never heal completely. The depth of the love that we have for our loved ones will determine the amount of scar tissue left, but we will hopefully heal enough to continue to live life as fully as our loved ones would want us to.
Determined to make a positive out of a negative
I have always had a strong belief that everything happens for a reason (even when you can’t see what that reason is) and that there is always good that comes from every tragedy. I’m struggling with that now. How can my darling boy taking his own life be for any good reason? He has left a Conor shaped hole, not only in my heart but in our everyday lives too. We miss him constantly. It’s more obvious when the family gather together, times where normally he would be there too. I know I’m not alone in feeling that; other family and friends feel it too. It’s hard, but it’s something we’re going to have to learn to live with and take strength and comfort from each other.
He has, however, left me determined to try to ensure that others don’t feel that they have no choice other than suicide. No other family should live the devastation that we are living. I’m still working on how I’ll do that but perhaps that will be the ‘good’ reason. Maybe it’s not that good automatically happens. Maybe it’s the determination that something good must happen.
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[…] am not the same person as I was 6 months ago, nor will I ever be again, but I have survived. Some of those days have been easier than others. It’s always the unexpected that catches me […]