Suicide’s been in the news a lot this fall, and that means it’s been part of a lot of conversations. Teenagers, professional athletes, executives, parents. Suicide enters all sectors of society. Nowadays, whenever events become news, they also become hot topics on the Internet. In some ways this is good. Conversations on the Internet reach more people. Suicide used to be hushed up. Heightened awareness is good. In conversations I’ve read and heard, much of the thinking goes this way: “Bullying is bad. It needs to stop.” Or, “Being bullied is bad, but it’s not a reason to kill yourself.” Or, “I guess these people can’t take all the pressure.” Another one says, “Suicide is such an implusive act,” Or, “Suicide is such a selfish act,” or this one that I overheard in a restaurant last week, “Suicide is just the easy way out.” Then there’s always this truism: “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”
The consensus seems to be that with a little more thought, with a little stronger will or character, “these people” could find a better solution. If only they were better problem solvers. If only they could reflect and find the proper perspective.
I certainly walked along that line of thinking – a million times in the 15 months since my daughter, Emma took her life.
But what if we’re wrong? What if it’s not so simple? What if we’re the ones who need to be more reflective? What if we, the survivors and the Internet commenters are the ones who oversimplify this problem? What if it’s not a character flaw? What if it’s more than just a poor, impulsive choice? What if it’s not dysfunctional families? What if it’s not drugs? What if it’s not bullying? What if it’s much more complicated.
I’m trying to reflect, now. After all, that’s what we expected of those people who ended their lives. But reflection means looking beyond the superficial response.
How is our will? After all, that’s what we wished for those people who ended their own lives? Are we willing to face a complicated problem instead of looking for an easy explanation?
How about our character? Do we have the strength of character to look beneath a shallow truism, and say, “I want to find a real solution to this “temporary problem”?
What if it’s not just an individual’s problem, or a family’s problem, or a school’s or community’s problem? What if it’s more deeply rooted, more systemic? What if it connects to our national attitude toward mental illness, a view that uses words like crazy, freak, or head case, a view that disparages “shrinks.” What if it involves our national tolerance for intolerance? What if it connects to brain chemistry, the way certain brains are wired?
The more I’ve read and the more I’ve reflected this past year, the more I realize that we don’t know very much, the more I believe that there isn’t a quick and ready explanation for suicide, even in the cases where the cause seems clear. It’s always more complex than it seems, and that’s a message we need to communicate.
My daughter, Emma, like many suicide victims, doesn’t fit neatly into categories. She was complex. She felt that she inhabited the margins at her school, but she was also involved in lots of school groups and organizations; she may have felt bullied at times, but she also had close friends who she could count on; in her daily life she had many adults to whom she could turn, but she didn’t seek their help in her crisis. Emma was confident to the point of cocky, but she was also insecure. She loved being on stage, but she was afraid to reveal her true self. She had her own sense of style, but she wanted to fit in. She loved life, but she ended her own. She wouldn’t hurt a flea, but she ended up hurting so many people.
Here’s what I think I know now: suicide is not just a tragedy for an individual or a family or a community. It’s a national tragedy, and it’s one we don’t understand…yet. Suicide is not a simple problem of character, courage, or problem solving skills. No, it’s a social crisis and a health crisis, and it needs the kind of attention that those kinds of crises receive. It needs the kind of attention that we’ve devoted to other health crises like cancer and HIV/AIDS. It will take funds, and it will take resolve. We will have to convince the public, which likes a quick explanation, that this is complicated.
Everyone here has been touched by suicide. We’ve had to fight through pain and shame and perhaps despair to be here and to talk about this issue, but we’re here. Now we need to do whatever we can to help our neighbors and the world at large see both the complexity of the problem and the determination that it will take to tackle it.
AFSP does a lot of good for the survivors, for the strugglers, for those who provide support, and for the people doing the badly needed research. I believe they can do much more, but it will take resources, will, and national reflection.
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