Suicide - how to talk to your kids

I was asked to write about a very difficult topic today. The issue of suicide, and how to talk to your kids. This issue is often complicated by misconceptions inside belief systems, and confuses what we should believe regarding afterlife, and God’s perspective on the whole thing.

Weighty stuff, not sure, but I hope this helps.

I wanted first to point out a couple of challenges inside the current make up of our society, that make this particular conversation (and others like it) hard to have with our kids. I want to start there.

I read a book this last year about how we react.

That is right, how we react.

The book was called “The Flinch” I’ll post a link at the end for you to look it up, you should read it.

In essence there were a couple of things I learned from this book that have proven really helpful for me! The first thing I learned is the pervading tendency in our society today is to flinch back. We have all done it, in fact, I spent the majority of my life doing it. We do it when we look at email, we do it when we get a visa bill, we do it when all the time in so many different scenarios, we have forgotten that we are doing it. The thing we have forgotten, this things we are doing is flinching back.

I’m not sure when why or under what circumstance I learned to flinch back, but I know for years that is what I did. Flinching back disguises itself in many different ways. How about, stepping on a scale (no I don’t want to, because of what I will see) or how about fixing a machine (no, I’ll probably just break it and make it worse) or how about cooking a new recipe (no it will ruin an evening if I get it wrong) How about talking to that employee about that mistake they made (no, I would not know what to say) or to our friend about that mistake we see them making over and over again (they won’t listen anyway)

All of these and many more are examples of flinching back, ok, but what does flinching forward look like?  Well, flinching forward is seizing problems as opportunities! Huh? For instance we can see a broken appliance as an opportunity to expand our horizons of the things we can fix. You can see a snow storm as a time to connect with people to help. You can see the problems your boss has at work as an opportunities for advancement.

Ok, flinching back, flinching forward, what is your point?

I think as parents we spend a lot of time flinching back, actually to broaden that, I think in relationships we spend a lot of time flinching back. We are uncomfortable, there are tears involved, maybe someone is hurt, and we think to ourselves “well, I just would not know what to say.”

True. You wont know what to say.

Not until you are into it.

A couple of months ago, the air compressor at work packed it in hard, most managers would be reaching for a phone – my manager Reinhard Timmerman reached for a wrench. There were parts everywhere – I asked him if he had ever taken one like this apart before.

“Nope.” (big grin)

I asked him if he knew how to put it together.

He stood with greased filled hands and said with a smile

“Well, I took it apart didn’t I?”

:-)

Yes, yes you did. There he was, flinching forward, beautiful, and it took some figuring, but it got fixed, and all put back together, and its been working ever since.

So how do you talk to your kids about _______________?

Today in Red Deer many parents are filling that blank with the word “suicide.”

How do you talk to your kids about suicide?

I don’t know. I don’t know your kids, I don’t know you. I don’t know what angle you take, or what story you tell, I just don’t. What I do know is that in the same way you have flinched forward about anything else in life – booking a holiday, driving in a snow storm, learning how to build something, well, you just do the same thing. You didn’t know how to build a house the first time you did, or drive, or ride a bike, or weld, or cook, but you flinched forward into the unknown, with wild abandon, and you learned as you went. You can do it. I know you can.

One thing that makes talking about suicide uncomfortable is certain beliefs about suicide being “unforgiveable.” This leads to a thought like “people who commit suicide go to hell.” This stands in contrast to some of the things I know in scripture. Such as “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love” (1John 4:8 emphasis mine). This evening I texted a catholic coworker who I know keeps up on where the faithful are in regards to some of this stuff, he passed me on to a very good resource, that echoes my views on the subject. Ron Rolheiser writes a couple of articles on the subject I will reference at the end, he tackles this difficult subject well. This particular summary thought grabbed my attention:

There is an infinite distance between an act done out of weakness and one done out of strength. Likewise there is an absolute distinction between being too bruised to continue to touch life and being too proud to continue to take one's place within it.

Hurting kids, that suffer from the illness (as Ron apply describes it) complete an act out of weakness. And when this happens they are greeted, by (Ron’s Words again) “God's love, unlike ours, goes through locked doors, descends into hell, and breathes out peace where we can't. Most people who die by suicide will awake on the other side to find Christ standing inside their locked doors, inside the heart of their chaos, breathing out peace and gently saying: "Peace be with you!" “

With this in mind how do we talk to kids about these matters, well first, to ensure they are not stricken with the same illness?

I can imagine a time, for us, when we get that continual nagging pain in our sides for a couple of weeks – and we say “oh it is nothing” – that it is at this exact point we need to go and see a doctor. We need to flinch forward!

This is what I am asking that you do with your kids. To be honest, my kids are 2, 5, 10, and 12, I haven’t talked to them much about suicide, sex, drugs, and alcohol, but when the time comes, I’m going to flinch forward. Flinch forward into the uncomfortable reality of those conversations, stumble through my words, say the wrong things, and know, that if they are ill, from the things they hear at school, or whatever, that I will get them the help they need.

And maybe it wont help, maybe this same harsh reality happens to my family, maybe, I loose one of my kids to a mental illness that takes their lives, what shall we do then? Retreat? No, we will flinch forward, because it is the only way to come out the other side.

I’m really not asking you to do something you have not done before, we have all flinched forward! We have all tried something new for the first time! We have all started something without the full knowledge of how it would end! I’m just asking you to do it with your kids! You can do it, I know you can!

Thanks for reading friends – comments are welcome on this difficult subject.

slv2all


To expand (due to a great comment regarding practical advice) Find a time (supper, driving child to school etc) when you can say something like the following: "Hey you know that you can talk to me about anything right?" then gauge your child's response, if you can, look right to the bottom of their eyelids, see if you can see some small tears welling up there, that they are trying to hide.

You really have to be sensitive to the fact that these issues are hard to talk about. The next thing I would say, after a question like this is "You know that Dad loves you very much, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, how about we agree to talk about this later?" This way, you take the fear off of that moment, and pass it to the next - then you can just arrange a time to talk (instead of actually talking), maybe you go for coffee, or a drive, or a walk, it really depends on you guys.

If your child really doesn't want to talk to you, continue to take responsibility for them, find out if there is anyone else who they would feel comfortable talking to. Your spouse, the child's grandparents, aunts, uncles, teachers, school counsellors, etc.  You are basically finding them help, if you are unable to. the only other thing I would say is to start young if you can, and keep having this conversation over and over again. If you have older kids, just keep asking, keep persisting that you care. Also, feel free to say things like "Hey, I know life isn't perfect, and, sometimes we fight, but, know that I would do anything for you."

Thanks much for reading and responding - I don't know who responded anonymously, but I hope you get a chance to read this. And I hope it helps - slv2all 

follow me on twitter @justinhubert

Resources:

The Flinch:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Flinch-ebook/dp/B0062Q7S3S

Ron’s Articles on suicide:

http://www.ronrolheiser.com/columnarchive/?id=160

http://www.ronrolheiser.com/columnarchive/?id=1038

My own walk down this path:

http://slv2all.blogspot.ca/2012/04/only-way-out-is-in.html

"Cry baby Cry"

“Cry baby cry!”

These words pierce my soul the other day.

I came in from moving the white stuff around to hear that our little one year old had shared the blessed experience of having another fit.

Fun.

Not sure what it is about a crying baby sucking all the life out of frustrated parents that don’t know “What is up?” or “What they want” or “What set them off”. For those of you that have had 1 year olds, you know, they want to tell you what they want, but they don’t know how – so they point and grunt and throw their head back and, … CRY!!!

But these words have another meaning for us.

“Cry baby cry!”

After our daughter Keziah was born still. We started the slow painful process of rebuilding our lives. On one level (marriage and relationship) we had tough slugging to do (more about that in a future post), on another level we had decisions to make.

The biggest question we would tackle together as husband and wife was if we wanted to have one more child. The answer was simply yes, but there was a waiting time for healing – and then…

9 months of pure agony mixed with joy, anticipation, and ultra sounds. Lots of ultrasounds. Weekly appointments, plans, everything about us was focused on this new little bundle of joy. Every movement evoked a memory of Keziah’s movements, every late night in utero baby sleep jolted us awake with cups of ice water, and thankful baby (Sorry can’t use the term fetal – kinda hate that term) movements. Plans were drawn up around how we would move forward with actual delivery – C section? Induction? When? What was best for baby? What was best for us? For the first time Lynn found out the sex of the baby, we were having – you guessed it, another girl.

More tears, More Joy. More wonderment.

And then came that night at the hospital. That familiar wing – unit 25. Seems like everyone knew the story. And we had eager heart wrenching anticipation of the moments before us.

Been here before. But not like this.

And we would leave this place again – down that same hallway – would we leave empty handed, or….

In all my life I don’t think I had felt such nervous anticipation.

My Bride Lynn was amazing – she was every time.

And then that moment, She was born, and a split second of awkward silence was pierced by my wife’s words. Were they a prayer? Or just desperate visceral desire. I can hear them like she spoke them yesterday…

“Cry Baby CRY!”
…

And she did...



I’ve got a picture of that moment.

That moment.

When nearly 2 years of tears had been whipped away by the hand of The almighty himself.

Joy returned to my Bride.

And peace to my soul.


And so we lost ourselves in the bliss, mixed with heartache, and Joy of that moment. A moment that never should have been, but was. We had a mixed uncomfortable troubled thankfulness. And then we put our little bundle into her car seat. And walked down the righthand hallway of Unit 25 holding hands. Joy again meshed with sorrow, we cried more tears for the familiarity of the last time we walked that hallway. The last time we didn’t want to leave empty, this time we left with a discomforting satisfaction.

And today, as three older siblings and 2 adults try to pick up the toys chasing after our 1 year old girl, when she cries (and she sure has a set of lungs now) I am reminded both of the cry that was…

And, the cry that wasn’t

slv2all

It’s Christmas time.

It’s Christmas time.

You know the time of year. You put up lights, you plan your schedule, you probably start on the interior decorations, and begin the Christmas shopping season in conjunction with the “sales” that happen this time of year.

And then there is the music.

I don’t know what it is, there is something about the music.

Christmas is different for us. 3 years ago, My wife and I suffered an anguishing loss this time of year. On November 29th Our Daughter Keziah was born still – 2 weeks shy of our due date.

Peace on earth good will to men, seemed to become the opposite that year.

And it changed Christmas for us forever.

As a man, a husband, and father. I know what I lost, but I will never understand what my wife lost, she lost something more than the rest of us, she lost someone she spend nearly 9 months with, the rest of us lost the hope of what could have been.

Christmas music.

For us, it is a reason to cry, to sit in the uncomfortable realm of NOT knowing, of NOT understanding, of NOT being in control.

But here is what we know:

We know we lost our Daughter at Christmas. We know that this profound loss, drove us – in an unexplained way, back into each other’s arms. We know that through tragic circumstances we began to change, we began to love each other again. We know that as a husband, I finally got my @%&# together to be the man that God called me to be. We know that Jesus is real, and is the real meaning of Christmas, and that, just because he is real and because we believe in Him, doesn’t mean that we will be spared from all sorts of pain in this life.

We also found out something else.

We found out that the Daughter we now hold at Christmas, our precious little, rambunctious, walking Bubbly, whiney, snotty, lovely, sweet little 1 year old girl Amayah is here and if Keziah had lived, Amayah would have never been.

So, we sit here confused.

Angry yet thankful. Happy on the outside, still awkwardly wrecked on the inside.

Bewildered.

And I am simply reminded. Justin, you are not in control of everything, you are in control of somethings.

It isn’t what happens too you that defines you.

It is how you respond.

slv2all