Part One – Not Suicidal
Losing Lyssa less than one year earlier (at that time), I had difficulty adjusting to my “new normal.” Returning to work within one week of Lyssa’s death seemed like a good idea at the time. Upon reflection, my return was more about not wanting to burden others than my readiness to return. My coworkers were very encouraging. One coworker said, “you are one of the strongest people I know” since I delivered my daughter’s eulogy. That strength, however, was not sustaining. I had to take some time to reflect. But more importantly, to grieve.
Left alone with my thoughts, the gravity of the loss of my only child hit me hard and fast. There were days when getting out of bed seemed too great a task. You see, from the time my daughter was born, I built my life’s purpose around her. I moved to another country to secure a better and safer future. I went back to college to earn a master’s degree to obtain better career opportunities. All my efforts were so I could secure her a brighter future.
With her life cut short in her junior year in college, I had to ponder the thought of “now what?” What is my purpose? What am I to do with my remaining years? How can I live a purposeful life? These are the questions that kept me immobilized in bed.
I went to therapy once every week for about three months. Talking helped somewhat. But after a while, I ran out of things to say. I felt like I kept repeating myself at every session. I did not want to waste the therapist’s time. I also went to sessions with the local Survivors of Suicide (SOS) group in my community. The group sessions were helpful because I met other individuals who lost loved ones in similar circumstances. It felt comforting to know that I was not alone in my grief. I also learned some helpful relaxation techniques from the group leader.
Yet still, my search for purpose kept me numb more often than I care to admit. I began to isolate myself. I was determined not to re-engage with the world until I had a new sense of purpose. I refused to answer my phone or respond to messages. I told most of my family and friends (at least those who kept in regular contact). So, I felt like everyone should understand and respect my wishes. But the calls and messages kept coming. Then the house visits began. I had cameras installed so that I could see who was at my door at any given time. I would usually text the person to say that I am okay to get them to leave. However, some did not take the hint to leave.
I often found myself reassuring individuals that I was okay and in a reasonable frame of mind. Some persisted in having a phone conversation. Others insisted that I physically come to the door so that they could get visual confirmation of my wellbeing. There were also others making threats to call the police if I did not come to the door.
After the third person came to my house threatening to call the police if I refused to answer the door, I had to say enough is enough. I finally exclaimed to the world, “Alright, ENOUGH! I lost my child to suicide, but I am NOT SUICIDAL.” While I appreciated the concern and love from everyone, I was also still grieving. I needed the time to process and find a new path forward. For me, I needed that alone time especially since I was dealing with a Trifecta of Loss.
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