Suicide is Preventable? Not always!

I'm a very passionate advocate for suicide prevention since losing my late husband, Rob, to suicide in December 2000. I believe so strongly in educating others about suicide and prevention. What I'm noticing a lot is that many of the suicide prevention/support groups/sites/Facebook pages, etc. make this sweeping statement that "suicide is preventable". The exact words I saw today were ‎"Every suicide attempt is preventable and subsequent deaths are avoidable." I so don't agree with this statement.

I believe that many suicides are preventable with proper intervention and treatment, however, many are not. Today I was on a suicide prevention Facebook page that made this very statement, and there was a comment from a fellow suicide loss survivor saying "suicide is preventable? thanks for laying even more of a guilt trip on me". My heart went out to this survivor because I know exactly how a comment like that can make one feel. I also know that the only one who can make you feel guilty is YOU.

I myself never felt guilt at all. I had done more than anyone to help Rob. I also believe very strongly in always giving your loved one's name whenever mentioning your loss. After his initial attempt by firearm that resulted in a 7-8 hour police standoff and an eventual surrendering, he was incarcerated for the maximum 72 hours that laws allow for in Canada where I'm from. He was diagnosed at this time as bipolar, which explained so well what life had been like for him and for me.

Rob had mood swings all his life -- he would go on "highs" that lasted anywhere from several hours to several days, he wouldn't sleep much, he would be extremely focused almost to the point of obsession on whatever his present challenge was. He would wake up some days and just be cranky and unpredictable (lows), could fly off into a tirade or utter some totally cutting, hurtful remark. Finally having a name put to his illness, for me at least, was good. I felt now that we knew what it was, we could get him the help he needed.

My situation was unique, I've come to realize. I had been separated from Rob for about 10 months at the time of his first attempt. I had much anger toward Rob for the various actions he'd taken that impacted me directly, both personally as well as professionally, as we also shared a business together. There was much infidelity which only came out after we had separated. This was crushing for me personally, made me feel foolish for not having figured it out before then. He did some very unethical things as well while we continued working together and it all added up to me really hating him, yet still loving him.

My self-esteem was shattered from the affairs. I knew quite a few of the women personally and had been friends with a few of them, so that hit hard too. I was embarrassed that everyone at our yacht club knew what had happened, probably knew all along, and only one man had ever taken the time to tell me of his concerns with Rob and his wife. I vehemently defended Rob with all my might, saying Rob would never do that!

I truly believed this because we'd both had affairs many years earlier, mine after finding out about his, we'd both decided we wanted to remain together and put it all behind us, we both agreed never to have an affair again, that we promised we'd tell one another that if the feelings were gone and we wanted out, that we'd have the respect for one another and our marriage to talk about it and end things in a responsible, mature way. Ha! What a concept!

My life was, I thought, playing out exactly as I'd planned it: that I'd be spending the rest of my life with my first and only love, that we'd grow old together and be there for one another. I most definitely had another "think" coming! So I was hurting very deeply, our relationship of almost 29 years together had been shattered, our business was failing for many reasons, but a lot had to do with Rob's attitude and actions. Everything I knew had changed and I had a 9 1/2 year old son to care for as well.

Through all of this, I knew I was justified in my anger and hatred of what Rob had done. However, when he attempted for the first time and the psychiatrist told me how very sick he really was and now knowing it was mental illness, I put all of my own pain aside and focused only on getting Rob the help he so desperately needed. I'd always been very good at compartmentalizing and this is what I did once again.

I realized I didn't hate Rob; I hated what he had done and they are two very different things -- an important distinction which later allowed me to view suicide differently too, in that it wasn't Rob, it was his illness. I realized he was coming undone, that this strong, arrogant, confident man I'd known most of my life and loved, was no longer strong, felt such great self loathing for himself and had lost hope for any of it getting better. I knew he was in trouble and I knew I had to help.

Because of my anger, I would fluctuate from feeling very angry and burned out from it all to feeling deep compassion and caring. This was an emotional roller coaster I had never experienced before, and I'd always been fairly unemotional because of my ability to "put it aside", so I found it exhausting. I cried more in the 10 months of separation than I ever had in all our 29 years together.

When I would retreat into my anger, I would immediately remind myself that Rob was in far worse shape, could not think straight, was mentally ill, needed help and that would very quickly bring me back to my compassionate self. There were days in that last month where I couldn't take any more, where I would have to have a break from him, that I would allow myself to not be in contact as I knew I just did not have the energy, but those days were few.

Things escalated for the entire month of December 2000 after his first attempt. They spun out of control so rapidly I could hardly believe it sometimes. He attempted several more times with various methods, then we would sit in our business showroom talking about it in great detail. Rob was never one for deep conversations, but we had many during this time. We talked more in the last 6 months than we ever had in all our years together. He would describe in great detail how he attempted, what it felt like, what was going through his mind while carrying this out and how scared he was.

I was astonished by what I was being told, but did not judge. Unlike my usual self where I would cut him off and interject, I kept silent and just listened intently. When he would take a break from talking, that is when I would jump in and ask him questions. I would ask him what was it that kept him from following through? He always told me it was seeing our young son's face that stopped him, so I told him this was good, to keep visualizing that! To keep holding on knowing how it would impact our son and that seemed to be of comfort to Rob, and for me as well, if only for a little while.

In the end, I guess Rob's own pain and turmoil, loss of hope, the repetitious suicidal thoughts telling him this was his only way out of all this anguish and that we would all be better off without him - got the better of him and no vision of my son's face or anything else was strong enough to override taking his own life. I had him go to my family doctor just days before Christmas, she was not his doctor, he did not have one as he did not like seeing doctors and had been healthy prior to all this. She saw him immediately even though it was skeletal staff at this time of year, prescribed a mild sleeping pill and antidepressant, telling him it would take several weeks before the meds would kick in and possibly make a difference.

He began taking his pills and I think it gave him a small glimmer of hope as it did me, but unfortunately he didn't allow enough time to let them work and died a few days later. I'd also had a suicide prevention intervention team out to the house, they were very soft spoken, talked to him in gentle voices asking him questions that I know they needed the answers to, but I could see it wasn't helping Rob at all, that he was actually getting more irritated and so I took over, explained what had happened and that I could tell my husband was getting more upset and withdrawn as their interview progressed. They asked him if he felt they were helping and he clearly said no, so at that point, I asked Rob if he wanted them to remain and he said no, so they left.

I had done all I knew to do. I invited him to the house for dinners as I knew he was not eating well. I encouraged him to have hot relaxing baths as he could not take a bath on our boat where he resided, I even let him sleep over several times in the guest bedroom, even though I did not feel comfortable with that. I did all any wife could do, especially under the circumstances. One night while we were all asleep, he got up and went to the basement and took the shotgun that remained that I'd forgotten about. All the firearms were confiscated upon his first attempt December 6th, but I'd forgotten about that one. Rob had not forgotten.

I woke up in the morning and noticed our basement door was ajar which it never was; thought it was strange but then just shut it. Rob got up very depressed. I made breakfast and had to go into work so I asked him to please leave, as I was not comfortable leaving him in the house when I was not home because he had taken things previously. I cannot even begin to tell you how badly this made me feel telling my own husband that he had to leave his house, I knew what rough shape he was in, but also knew I had to do it as I couldn't trust him. Rob looked at me with so much pain and disbelief in his eyes, but he left. I felt terrible and so sad it had all come to this, but set the alarm and headed into work.

It was ridiculous that I was even going into work as there were no employees left, I was sitting alone in a big, 6 bay garage, had no way to take any work on even had it walked in the door. I needed to get some paperwork done so it served me well to be occupied and as this was a Saturday it was fairly quiet.

The next morning was Sunday, I did not have Rob over the night before, but think I called him to see if he was okay -- he wasn't, but was alive. I sat bolt upright in my bed and realized why the basement door had been ajar! I immediately got up, ran down and checked the rafters where he kept the shotgun, found the case and it was empty. I was furious! I couldn't believe that after all he'd put us through that he'd sneak around in the middle of the night to get the shotgun when I'd been good enough to have him over!

I immediately phoned him on the boat, told him he had 10 minutes to get that shotgun home or I'd call the police and they'd be all over his beloved boat ripping it apart looking for guns. He was home in less than 10 minutes, and rang the front doorbell. I opened it, saw him standing there like a little boy scorned holding out a green garbage bag which had the shotgun in it. I was still furious, didn't say one word, took the shotgun and closed the door. I'd had enough!

Later when telling a few friends and family, they freaked out that I'd done that saying "OMG Barb! He could have killed you, or you and your son!". I hadn't even thought of that as I knew Rob would never harm me or my son, but they couldn't understand that. Now knowing what I do about suicide and suicidal thoughts, I'd probably not have taken this chance as everyone can be unpredictable. I made sure the shotgun was out of the house the next day and that was the last firearm he had, so at least I'd removed what I could.

This was all happening days before Christmas. I was exhausted, emotionally depleted and yet had to deal with Christmas and had to attend my sister-in-law's Christmas on December 24th and Rob had promised my son he'd be there. None of us felt like going, but I was trying to give my son as "normal" a Christmas as possible, so I forced myself to. I was back in anger mode, yet was also very concerned for Rob. I thought about calling him on the boat to see if he wanted to go together to his sister's, but decided I wouldn't, that he could just bloody well get himself there.

Arrived at my sister-in-law's, no Rob. Everyone asked if I'd heard from him and I said no. They kept calling, no answer. Went ahead with opening presents, my son had a lovely time, we had a wonderful meal and as I drove home that night, it dawned on me that it was one of the nicest, calmest Christmas Eve's I'd ever had with my in-laws. I got home and thought I really should call Rob, but I didn't, I was too burned out, was mad he'd not shown up and just got into bed.

Christmas Day I got up and had had to put out a stocking for my son, he was up already, had opened that and had discovered his new scooter and was bombing around the family room on that. I was very tired, very depressed, worried about Rob and told my son to call his Dad and wish him Merry Christmas because I just couldn't. My son told me "he could call me!" and I could tell he too was hurt and mad his Dad hadn't come as promised, but I told my son to just be the bigger of the two and to remember his Dad was very sick and it would mean the world to him to hear from his son. My son called, got the answering machine and left a quick Merry Christmas message.

We never heard from Rob again, I believe he died either very late Christmas Eve or the early morning hours of Christmas Day. He had spoken to a friend late Christmas Eve so we knew he was still alive then, but I didn't find this out until later, after Rob had died. I wondered Christmas morning whether he was alive or dead, remember thinking what a bizarre thought that in itself was. I made it through Christmas Day with my family, then December 26th I barely got out of bed, thought of calling Rob but was just too wiped out and also thought he'd probably taken off with the girlfriend and forgotten all of us. We found Rob Dec. 27th, he'd been deceased for quite a while, but no real date or time of death could be determined.

I found out December 27th in the early afternoon while back in at our business doing paperwork. My son was at a friend's house playing with their daughter. One of my friends had checked the boat because I'd asked her to knock on the hull and see if Rob answered. I'd spoken to my girlfriend over Christmas and asked if she'd seen Rob, she said no movement on the boat, his car was still in the parking lot at the yacht club unmoved and covered in snow. I again figured he'd taken off with the girlfriend, that they'd reconciled and taken off for a nice Christmas together. My hurt came up again over all of the infidelities, which had also resurfaced a bit during the month of December, because all the while on the first attempt December 6th, Rob had been calling not only me, but her as well. Such a strange set of circumstances :(.

When I found out he was dead, I was not shocked; can't even say that I was surprised really, as it had been a long time coming throughout all of December. The news was so final and yet all I could muster was "It's over". I knew that life had changed forever, that for Rob his suffering was over and for me, my struggle to keep him alive was over. That day was unlike anything I've ever experienced, I can recount it in detail because it's indelibly carved into my memory forever. The next few days were a whirlwind of getting things done that needed to be done, including telling my son his Dad had died.

I never had a single moment of guilt, I can honestly say that and I know for many loss survivors, they do not feel that way; they feel incredible guilt. They feel guilty for not having seen the signs in some cases, for not trying harder, for not having done something that might have stopped their loved one from carrying out their suicide. I know what guilt can do, I know how you beat yourself up with the what-ifs, and yet it's a default so many of us go to. I watch even months and years later with many survivors how guilty they feel, what a price it's cost them and how much pain they've felt because of it. In most cases, there isn't a real reason to feel guilt. For some maybe there is and I feel so deeply for them, yet those of us who did all we could, the best we knew how - should not feel that way and yet do.

Guilt is always self inflicted. It is our thoughts that we're telling ourselves that allows guilt in. The only way I know of releasing guilt is forgiveness, and when the loss is fresh and raw, many cannot let the guilt go and are nowhere near being able to forgive. Forgiveness is not only for you, it's also to forgive the person who took their life. I believe when forgiveness comes, the guilt and anger also can leave more quickly. Everyone grieves and handles the loss differently so I've come to respect that too and just pray they can get to the point of not blaming themselves or their loved one, so that healing can begin.

The reason I started this post is because I saw "suicide is preventable". It's a statement I don't necessarily agree with for all the reasons I've given above. I do believe that awareness and having open responsible dialogue about suicide can educate and help increase the chances of prevention, both for the suicidal person and their loved ones, but it is ultimately not possible to prevent suicide from happening in every instance.

Since survivors so often feel guilt, having a blanket statement that suicide is preventable almost has an implication that survivors could or should have done something to prevent the suicide, that they should have tried harder or differently, that they didn't do enough to keep that person alive. I feel that is not a good message, as in my case and many others, this simply is not the case at all. The one survivor's comment I saw brought this all home for me, enough that I felt strongly enough about it to do this blog post. There is no blame, no shame in suicide. It is simply when someone has more pain and turmoil than they can cope with and make an unfortunate decision to take their lives to escape their pain.

I prefer to say "many suicides are preventable" with proper training, education, awareness and treatment. I'm not even comfortable assigning the word "most", because again, it can imply for some that they've done something wrong or failed the suicidal person. I'm a big stickler for correct language used around suicide and mental health; I wish those in the prevention arena would alter their expressions as well.

I know you can't think of every instance where something you say or put out there in words could possibly have a negative impact, but when within this suicide community, something so commonly used as "suicide is preventable" could surely be adapted to exclude the possibility of increasing guilt or blame. I so wish suicides were preventable completely, it just isn't the way it is, but by discussing it and having conversations about it, we can help save lives.

Would love to hear your thoughts!