The Establishment writing Archives - So About What I Said

Yesterday was World Mental Health Day, but like millions of Americans, I don’t have the luxury of just “observing” it for a single day. It’s something I’ve lived with 24 hours a day, 7 days a week since 2003 — the year my father committed suicide.

The numbers are staggering: The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention estimates that 42,000 Americans die from suicide every year and is the 10th leading cause of death in the U.S. Add in the number of loved ones left behind in the wake of suicide and that number goes from staggering to crippling.

It’s those left behind who shoulder such an unbearable burden. I’ve felt like grief would consume me at times over the last 13 years, and all kinds of questions have swirled around in my head…

–Did my father really think we’d be better off without him?
–Would he be proud of the woman I’ve become?
–What life advice would he give me if he were still here?

I was able to give voice to these questions in my new essay “An Open Letter To Fellow Suicide Survivors On World Mental Health Day” for The Establishment. The piece went up yesterday, and I couldn’t be more happy with it. I know I sometimes post about trivial, fun things, but this type of writing — this confessional, from-the-soul writing — is truly where my heart is at at the end of the day. It’s a healing way of looking at very heartbreaking and traumatic events in my life.

Here’s an excerpt of the essay, which is one of my recent favorites…

I grew up against the sprawling backdrop of the cornfields, in a college town 75 miles west of Chicago. Despite my physical disability, my father made sure that I had a normal childhood—the kind that feels like the perfect home movie when you look back years later as an adult. We chased lightning bugs in the summer and sledded down snow hills in the winter.

Life was simple.

The idea that a loved one died so unexpectedly and so violently shakes you to the very core of your being, and as much as you may wish to deny it, you’ll never be the same person ever again. I never really understood this until I grieved my father. Slowly, however, I realized that not only was I grieving my father’s death, but I was also grieving the loss of my “old life.”

I think, in the end, the real journey I’m on is learning to say goodbye to my old life, not just learning how to say goodbye to my father. It’s important to remember that sometimes, I—you, we—need to try saying hello to our new lives, if just to see how it feels.

You can read the full essay here and I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to email me anytime at mellow1422@aol.com and let’s chat! And of course, feel free to share my essay on Facebook, Twitter or even your local refrigerator. If you share on Twitter, be sure to tag me @melissablake so we can connect! I can’t wait to hear from you! Love you all… xoxo

When I discovered The Establishment, the amazing women’s site that launched last year, I knew I wanted to be a part of it somehow. And as luck would have it, I got my chance today when my first piece went live. I wrote “How To Support A Loved One With PTSD” in honor of PTSD Awareness Day and even though this is a topic I’ve written about before, it was a great experience to think about PTSD at this time in my life.

How did it feel? In a word: empowering. It made me feel strong. It made me feel like I was facing an aspect of my grief head-on — not cowering or running from it or even hiding in the corner. I was calling it out, forcing it to face me and realizing that, for as much as I get frustrated and anxious sometimes, I really have come a long way since those early, dark days.

Here’s an excerpt of the essay, which is one of the longer pieces I’ve written lately…

I’d started seeing a psychiatrist and therapist shortly after his passing to help manage my anxiety and grief. But then the anxiety grew even more acute—with the power to transport me back to the most traumatic experience of my life, no matter how much time had passed. Especially in the direct wake of my father’s passing, when my grief was its most raw and jagged, anything seemed to set me off. The vivid scenes of the hours and days after my father’s death would replay on a loop in my head. Over and over. It was like a nightmarish home movie that I couldn’t turn off.

I would learn that these types of PTSD responses are common among those who’ve lost a loved one to suicide. I was suffering from what is known as complicated grief, the type of grief that occurs after “an unexpected or violent death, such as death from a car accident, or the murder or suicide of a loved one.” PTSD and complicated grief often go hand-in-painful-hand.

When my post-traumatic stress symptoms began, I felt helpless and totally out of control for the first time in my life. Until I learned about the disorder, I had no idea what was happening to me, which only intensified my grief and anxiety. Thankfully, I’ve seen some shifts in the public’s perception of mental illness and PTSD in recent years, and this move toward understanding symptoms and treatment—and away from stigma—has benefited sufferers.

Still, it’s been a battle. In addition to seeing a psychiatrist and taking antidepressants, I’ve been in therapy for the last decade. This has been life-changing in helping me confront my feelings and issues surrounding my father’s suicide. But although I’ve come a long way, I know PTSD is something I’ll struggle with for the rest of my life.
And unless you’ve experienced it firsthand, helping someone with the disorder can feel like trying to navigate a minefield without a map—especially given our society’s tendency to push people to “just get over it,” which can make those suffering feel the need to hide what they’re going through.

In fact, The Establishment is running an entire series on PTSD, full of honest and informative stories from other women who’ve been there. Be sure to read all of them here!

My Essay on The Establishment: “An Open Letter To Fellow Suicide Survivors”

My Essay on The Establishment: “How To Support A Loved One With PTSD”