My name is Nick Watts. On May 13, 2013, my son, Jordan, took his own life. He was 19.
NOTE: Should you be unfamiliar with my family’s history with suicide you can click here.
My public school presentation on Suicide Intervention lasts approximately 45 minutes and includes, among other points, everything from “becoming aware of the epidemic” and “myths about suicide” to clinical depression (the mental condition most associated with suicide) and general & specific steps to take when intervening with a suicidal person. More information than I could share in a simple blog post.
That said, after speaking I am often asked by students and parents a number of questions I don’t have time to address in my presentation. I thought I would offer brief answers to a few of those questions here:
- When and how should I talk to my child about suicide?
- My child has a friend who is suicidal. What do I tell my child?
- What do families need following the suicide of a loved one? (What do they not need?)
- What has most helped you and your family?
When and How Do I Talk to My Own Child About Suicide?
When: The topic of suicide normally doesn’t arise unless a family member, friend or celebrity takes their life. When Netflix premiered their monster hit, 13 Reasons Why, in March 2017, much of the U.S. was talking about the show’s primary subject: teen suicide. (You can read my blog on 13 Reasons Whyhere.) While some choose to take advantage of such opportunities to talk about this difficult and uncomfortable topic, others choose to leave it alone – usually because they simply don’t know what to say.
In regard to our children, there are those things we like to call “teachable moments.” Should an event prompt this particular topic, it would most definitely qualify as one of those moments.
The days of considering suicide a taboo topic are long gone. Even the mainstream media has begun giving it quite a bit of press. And for good reason. From a 2016 article in the Houston Chronicle:
Suicide is the second leading cause of death in the United States for people ages 10 to 34, according to the Centers for Disease Control‘s data from 2014, and is the 10th leading cause of death overall.
And from the New York Times:
“Suicide in the United States has surged to the highest levels in nearly 30 years, a federal data analysis has found…”
How: To borrow a slogan from Nike, just do it. I tell students at every assembly, “We parents are deeply flawed. We’re just ‘old teenagers.’ Just like you, we laugh and we cry; we have good days, and bad days. Sometimes we mess up. Sometimes we get things flat wrong. But, no one on planet earth loves you more than your parents.” My point is this: as a parent, you don’t need a degree in psychology our counseling to talk to your child about suicide. Just talk to them. If they refuse to talk about it, this is a clear sign that they desperately need to talk about it. (Refusing to talk is different than your child saying something to effect of, “I’m so hurt and confused. I need a couple of days to process this. Can we talk then?”) Never force the conversation, but don’t sweep it under the proverbial rug either.
The suicide of a loved one or friend leaves us with endless questions. A student approached me following one of my talks. They said, “My friend took his life. I was told if you commit suicide you go to hell. Is that true?” (I address that question at length here.)
Amidst all the questions regarding suicide, a cornerstone of truth I learned at one of the conferences I’ve attended on suicide intervention is this:
99% of those who attempt suicide don’t want to die – they just want the pain to stop.
No one enjoys talking about suicide (including me.) But, should an event bring the topic into the public square, take advantage of it.
My Child Has a Friend Who is Suicidal? What Do I Tell My Child?
For obvious reasons, I counsel people to always err on the side of caution when suspicious of a friend or family member being suicidal. In other words, intervene immediately. If you intervene and you’re wrong, at least they know you care. If you don’t intervene, and you were right, you might well be soon attending a funeral.
I tell students in no uncertain terms, “Should you suspect a friend of yours of being suicidal, talk to them immediately. Then tell them, ‘We’re going right now to talk to an adult (if at school, the counselor who will, in turn, notify the parents; if off campus, the parents; if the relationship between the student-at-risk and their parent is estranged, take them to the nearest adult whether that be a school counselor, teacher, coach, youth pastor, etc.).
Mental health professionals agree that communication is a key to helping “talk a suicidal person off the edge of the cliff.” The Houston Chronicle story I referenced above – written due to a cluster of teen suicides – asserts:
The key to managing grief, mental illness and suicidal thoughts is communication. Often times, those who are struggling tend to isolate instead of communicate… Through it all, communication is key to breaking out of the cycle of hopelessness and connecting to a support system. Sometimes, [the person at risk is] at a place where they can’t communicate. It’s then we must be their voice.
Regarding the quote immediately above – rather than “sometimes,” I would offer that “most times” the person-at-risk can’t communicate what’s going on – at least this would apply to the vast majority. Simply put, they are unable. Since they’re brain is “broken”, unable to connect with logic, the ability to intelligently articulate their crippling pain is out of cognitive reach. Gradually losing all sense of reality, the individual begins to believe lies common to those considering taking their own life i.e. “my family won’t have to worry about me anymore, ” “the world will be better without me/I don’t matter,” “I’m a burden to everyone,” “the pain is too much to bear,” “there is no hope, no help,” etc.
If you’re reading this – and are presently suicidal – understand that the statements cited immediately above are complete and total lies. You are loved. You do matter. Your family and friends love you and would be devastated at your loss. The familiar axiom is: Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. While your pain may seem to you beyond help, know that there is most certainly help and hope. Should you not want to speak with a family member or friend, please call the Suicide Hotline at: 800-273-TALK (8255)
Lastly, a child who has a friend they suspect of being suicidal, may feel like they will be betraying their friend’s trust should they tell an adult; or, that it’s their responsibility to carry their friend through this crisis. This is nonsense. As a parent, tell them, “It is not your job or responsibility to carry a burden of this nature and weight on your own. There are professionals who’ve gone to school and worked all their life for the sole purpose of helping hurting people just like your friend.” Again, always err on the side of caution.
I encourage students, “Your friend may at first be very upset, even angry, with you for telling an adult. Let them be angry. You may well be saving their life, and saving their family from unspeakable grief.”
What Do Families Need After the Suicide of a Loved One? What Do They Not Need?
Permit me to combine the answers to questions 3 & 4 in this one section since my response to “what families need and don’t need” is based on what my own family did and did not need.
I could write enough in response to this question to fill a book. (My wife, Michelle, and I are planning on writing a book one day.) But, let me offer just a few thoughts here.
I recently visited with a grieving parent who had lost their child to suicide. They said they felt like they were losing their mind. (I know this to be true – I came very close to losing mine, ultimately having to be hospitalized.) They continued, “My emotions are all over the place.” I quoted to them the following statement Michelle had shared with me from one of the many resources she had since studied:
“Psychologists call grief associated with suicide ‘complicated grief.”
In short, grief associated with suicide is “all over the place.” It’s reckless. Volatile. Unpredictable. Explosive. And exhausting.
There is a relentless search for answers that never come. The endless, maddening, guilt-ridden, “If only I had (fill in the blank),” consumes you.
I read the following once and, from personal experience, testify that it is most certainly true:
“The death of a child is like losing your breath and never catching it again. It’s a forever panic attack – feeling your heart dying as your soul is screaming for them. No matter what you try to do you continue to lose your mind.”
Those who’ve lost a loved one to suicide don’t need cliches and trite comments i.e. “They’re in a better place,” or “God needed another angel,” etc. What they need is someone to help them bear the metric-ton of pain that’s, at the moment, crushing their heart, soul and mind. Don’t attempt to “fix” things. There is no “fixing” it. Don’t give in to the common temptation to provide “answers”. They don’t exist.
Early on, a grieving family or individual doesn’t need advice. Just your presence will do.
There is a type of love and compassion aptly called “the ministry of presence.” A person who’s just lost a loved one to suicide may need to talk. They may not. Like Job’s three friends, (Job had just buried ten children) sitting quietly and sharing the person’s pain is often quite enough during those first days and weeks. Interestingly, it was only when Job’s friends began talking that things went downhill quickly. 🙂
The default during that first year (at least for me) was to shut down, isolate myself, try to go to sleep and never wake up. My family was paralyzed by grief. Routine tasks such as cleaning, taking out the trash, yard work, etc., could’ve easily become monumental chores we simply didn’t have the strength to begin, much less accomplish. What happened next was unexpected and extraordinary.
We had friends show up “out of the proverbial blue” to help. They did our laundry. They cleaned our house. They brought us meals. They mowed our lawn. One person just showed up and cleaned every single window in our house. For years, we’d been intending to take down the wallpaper in our kitchen and paint it. Knowing that we would be unable to function for who knows how long, friends waited until we were gone one weekend, came over and completed the entire job. Our first Christmas following Jordan’s death, friends came to our house and set up our tree for us and helped us decorate – something we could have never done on our own.
The family must be given as much time as necessary to process their grief. We are all unique. Hence, we all grieve uniquely, differently. Some requiring more time than others. Never should someone say – or even think – “You know, you should be over this by now.” Only if you’ve walked in our shoes do you know how ignorant and arrogant a statement that is.
Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and John Kessler once wrote,
“The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but, you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same, nor would you want to be.”
I spent eight months, alone, in shock. I know this because I remember finally waking up one morning feeling somewhat different. Somewhat less tormented. A small piece of the burden had been lifted. I tried and tried to figure out what was different. Then it hit me – this was the first morning I had awoken without trying to un-do Jordan’s death. That insanity had consumed my every waking moment for eight months. It was exhausting. It was maddening. But, finally, my psychological bondage was loosening. Slowly.
A professional counselor told me, “As you probably know, the first year will be horrible. But I must tell you – the second year will not be much better.” I can’t thank that counselor enough. Because he was exactly right. For the first two years, we cried at least once every single day. Moreover, it took my family 4 years to complete a full summer without at least one of us having a total emotional meltdown.
Note: I can’t/don’t share the following in public school contexts. But I can share it here.
Finally (please understand my answers here are based on a biblical worldview), over time, the family must be gently reminded of what is true: because of the Cross and the Empty Tomb we have hope beyond this painful, messy life on planet earth. The “complicated grief” associated with suicide is discombobulating. The earth has shifted under your feet. For us, God’s Word – the Bible – has served as our “true north” and helped us rediscover peace and hope. After Jordan’s death, we hung Bible verses about pain and suffering and hope and peace and truth all over our house. They were on the kitchen cabinets, every door, the walls. It’s been well over four years and, still, a few are in the very location we placed them in May, 2013.
Some may write this off as silly, believing the Bible to be nothing more than fairy tales for the mentally weak. But this I know (because I tried it): the only alternative – atheism – failed me in that it gave me no place to put my rage, my grief, my confusion, and my hopelessness. It offered me no hope or peace or consolation. The God of the Bible provided all of that, and more. (To read my blog, “Atheism Failed Me” click here.)
The Bible is neither sanitized nor white-washed. It records life on planet earth as it really is: painful. Further, it tells us we have a Savior who, rather than being insulated from pain and suffering, is acutely acquainted with it, with the Old Testament prophet, Isaiah, describing Christ as “a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.”
If it ended there the Christian faith would be hollow and hopeless. But it doesn’t end there. Isaiah then writes, “Surely he took up our painand bore our suffering.”
This is precisely why David of the Old Testament could confidently write, “[God] is close to the brokenhearted; and he saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
When Jordan was 9, during a very dark and painful period of our lives, with tears streaming down his cheeks, he came out of his room and said, “Dad, God told me to paint this for you.” I just held him and wept. After Jordan died, friends had it professionally framed with a small plaque at the bottom that reads, “When we hurt, God hurts.” It has been displayed in our entrance hall ever since.
Every time I had a meltdown and felt like I was going to lose my mind I would begin quoting the 23rd Psalm. Sometimes, my grief was so acute I was unable to mutter anything beyond the first few words: “The Lord is my shepherd.” And that is one of two reasons I have that very phrase, in Hebrew, tattooed on my left forearm. (The other reason is because Jordan had a similar tattoo on his left forearm.) Frequently, when I’m out and about, people will ask me, “What’s the story behind your tattoo?” I tell them, “It says, ‘The Lord in my shepherd.’ My son died in 2013. He was 19. This Bible verse helped me not lose my mind.”
Here is truth: because of Christ’s death and resurrection, our loved ones, in Christ, are more alive than we are – more alive than they’ve ever been. Their suffering is not merely gone, it’s not even a memory. Further, they are, at this moment, experiencing a level of joy and peace that is beyond mere human intellect, reason and logic.
Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die.”
A reunion is coming.
For Jordan.
Soli Deo Gloria, Nick
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