The man was tall and broad chested. At the end of his bulging arm he waved a piece of paper. “I’m an expert,” he shouted, “and you can’t write that. Your words make it worse. People need love not judgment.” He tore the paper into shreds and dropped it on the floor. ≡ The woman was… Read More
When I wrote 10 Things You Should Know Before You Kill Yourself, I spoke from the only perspective I know — my experience as the wife of a man who took his own life. A lot of people respond negatively to that post claiming their situation is different because they are alone and will be… Read More
On my left wrist, scratched into my skin is a red heart with angel’s wings. I had it done on my 45th birthday at The Illustrated Man. It was the last birthday I spent with my late husband. His birthday present to me was a fountain fashioned from a vase and a bowl, cobbled together to… Read More
I read in a book once about the difference between a traumatic event and a terrible one. I’ve spent the last couple of hours trying to find the exact words, but to no avail. I thought it was in this book about a chaplain whose job it is to notify people of the death of… Read More
The 15th April, 2010 was a day not much different to today. The autumn sun had slipped lower in the sky, making the day cool enough for a jacket. As I was putting my mascara on in the bathroom, ahead of a normal day at work, the telephone rang. The man on the other end of… Read More
He is walking up the road in front of me, wearing the heavy boots he never took off, black jeans and a backpack slung over his shoulder. In his hand is a silver gift bag, like the ones they give away in expensive shops. When he gets to the top of the hill, he turns… Read More
When my husband took his own life, he took part of mine with him. I was angry at him for a long time. In one moment he completely transformed the way I saw the world. I could no longer think clearly, believe in a benevolent Universe, or trust in my ability to understand people. He shattered… Read More
When I read about other people’s grief, I am ashamed. I cannot legitimately take my place among those who mourn the loss of someone they loved, someone who they miss every day and who they long to see again for just a few moments. My husband is dead, and the manner of his death was unnatural… Read More
Are you okay?
I ask my boyfriend.
He frowns, knowing what the question means.
I’m not going to kill myself, he says.
If one person dies globally from completing suicide every 40 seconds, and almost 80% of those people are men, there are many, many wives, girlfriends and partners left behind. This post is for those who are still here and have to live with the grief and trauma of knowing someone who chose to end their life.
They say we should ‘start a conversation’ about depression but sometimes it’s impossible to find the words. At *Not Waving Drowning* all you need to do is raise your hand and others will give you their time, their love and their support without you having to explain anything.
Once upon a time there was a beautiful, kind and sensitive princess named Robyn. She spent her days visiting the kingdom’s hospital, where sad men and women came to rest when life became too overwhelming. She sat by their bedsides, held their hands, and told them stories she created from her imagination.
I stretch my fingers resting on his thigh, coming in contact with the hard seam of his jeans. I read once that sitting side by side rather than face to face with a man makes it easier for him to talk. My boyfriend and I have never run into the problem of not being able to talk, no matter how we are seated. I don’t think sitting side by side with Jack would have encouraged him to open up. He kept his dark thoughts to himself, right up until the end.
