Explaining a Soldier’s Suicide

If you read yesterday’s Sunday Morning Quarterback, you know that my husband recently lost a good friend and co-worker to suicide. My husband is a man of a few words…especially when it comes to things that are very emotionally heavy. The Army and multiple deployments spent on the front lines taught him that. So I am so very proud of him for touching on the subject in his weekly post. But I believe it warrants a deeper conversation, a conversation that is obviously important to me as I frequently discuss issues of mental health in my blog space. If you are struggling with mental health issues of your own or know someone who is, there are great resources to be found at BetterHelp.com.

It is never a pleasant conversation when the topic of suicide is approached. It always strikes a nerve. It is the final act of a broken person and it leaves so many questions for the people left behind. Most people, in fact, simply cannot grasp the why’s of suicide…because most people have never experienced the level of anguish that leads to ending one’s life.

And for a soldier, a person who has chosen a career that puts their life in danger, fighting with everything they have to stay alive and to keep their comrades alive, understanding how another soldier can choose death is nearly impossible. When a soldier dies in battle, they depart a hero…for fighting the good fight. But when a soldier survives the battle and then chooses to die anyway, that raises all sorts of questions and judgments, especially for the military friends who are left behind to grieve.

There is another level of grief that accompanies this type of death. You see, when you are in the heart of a battle and lose a comrade, there is no time for processing one’s grief. You still have a job to do and your own life and the lives of your comrades to protect. But pull an infantry soldier out of the war zone and deliver him the news that one of his brothers in arms has taken his own life and it’s an entirely different process. Soldiers go into war zones with the full knowledge that some, including themselves, may not make it out alive. And when they do make out alive, many assume they are in the clear with a long fulfilling life ahead of them, safe from the casualties of war. What seems to be forgotten are the lasting effects that result from the traumas of war, of soldiering, of military life, and often of just life in general.

Mental illness does not discriminate based on race, religion, gender, ethnicity, sexuality, or career choice. Mental illness pays absolutely no heed to these things. But United States military veterans exhibit an extremely high rate of suicide compared to the general public. The numbers are actually quite astonishing. You can research that for yourself if you’d like. I just don’t have the stomach to share those statistics right now. They quite literally break my heart.

Regardless of all of the statistics surrounding suicide, the fact remains, at the end of the day, when someone chooses to end their own life, there really is not a damn thing anyone can do about it. And the effects are further reaching than you can even imagine.

Being a person who has battled my own demons and stood on the brink of suicide on more occasions than I care to admit, I could go into my big soap box rant trying to explain exactly what goes on inside of person when they decide to take their own life. But I’ll try to keep this part short, so here is my abridged soap box explanation…

The emotional pain, the wreckage to one’s soul, the feelings of despair and hopelessness despite “all the things they had going for them”, the abounding darkness, the never ending feelings of worthlessness…the extent of these things really does escape description with mere words…and so without any words at all, these things are capable of bringing complete and total destruction. All too often, the battle just becomes too hard to fight and it is time to lay down all of your weapons and succumb to the disease. When a person makes this decision, they commit to it, and they generally cannot be swayed. Those who talk about it are seeking help, they are begging to be talked off the ledge. But the ones who remain silent in their despair have already made their choice and they simply do not want to be talked out of it. They put on a facade to fool everyone and then they take quiet action when they are ready. It is sad and it is heart breaking, but it is a very harsh reality of mental illness. I am fortunate that I found my way out, but millions are not so fortunate.

However, I wanted to talk more about the far-reaching effects that occur when someone decides to take their own life. No one is ever prepared for it…even if they suspect it as a possibility. I cannot even pretend to imagine what the family of my husband’s friend is going through right now. His parents, his four children and their mothers, his girlfriend who found him hanging in the backyard. All I am witness to are the effects it had on my life over the past week. When I got the text from my husband on Monday morning, it was so blunt that I was unsure exactly what I was reading. Somehow, my husband got through the morning at work, most of his time spent in meetings with his command and his unit as well as a chaplain who was sent to meet with the group.

I want to let you know that I never met my husband’s friend. I knew him only by name. He had fixed my car for me. He had done other favors for our family. He had watched football at my house and played with my kids on weekends when I was working. And now, this man whom I had never met, had ended his own life. And the traumatic effects were widespread. Please don’t think I am diminishing the pain of those close to him. I am not. I also am not complaining nor am I seeking sympathy for myself. I merely feel compelled to illustrate how much his life, your life, everyone’s lives, effect the people around you, even people you have never met.

When my husband finally arrived home in the early afternoon on Monday, I watched him, the ultimate image of tough guy, the infantry soldier, my rock, my hero, a pillar of strength, break down into a shaking, sobbing pile of unconsolable tears with a  million questions of why. Suddenly, I found myself and my world turned on its head as I was faced with things that I never imagined I would be required to face.

A greif stricken husband who was asked to escort the remains of his comrade home. This final duty to honor his friend is not to be taken lightly and it is a very emotional obligation to fulfill. Two young children who adored a soldier who just took his own life. I found myself sitting in my parked car at the elementary school on Monday afternoon, explaining to my 5 and 7 year old children, that this man who they looked up to, idolized, and were just excitedly discussing what games they were going to play with him during the upcoming weekend, had died. I know my kids. They are smart and they are inquisitive and there was no way in hell I was going to get out of this conversation with a simple, “I am sorry but Daddy’s friend died.” No. Freaking. Way. So I hesitatingly consulted with the school nurse and the principal before picking up my kids that day. “Hey, how do I approach this situation?” As I already knew, they both supported my decision to tell it as clearly and as honestly as I could.

And then the questions came.

How did he die?

He killed himself, buddy.

How does somebody do that?

Well there are a whole bunch of ways that someone can commit suicide.

Well how did he do it?

He hung himself.

How do you do that?

And I explained in grave detail, with no candy coating on it at all. Because this is a very harsh reality of life. And I am not one to hide the realities from my children. As I watched their innocent little faces take it all in, I witnessed expressions that I had never seen before. A combination of confusion and comprehension, fear and sadness, strength and love.

Next…

Why would he do that, Mommy?

Because he was really sad, buddy.

But why? What made him so sad?

I’m not sure. Lots of things can make a person that sad.

Will I ever be that sad?

I hope not. But if you are ever that sad, please tell Mommy or Daddy.

When we arrived home to their distraught father, my children simply climbed on him, hugged and kissed him, and told him how much they loved him. Then as children do, they went right back to being children. If only it were that easy for the rest of us.

I am rambling on and on and I’m not really sure how to end a post like this. But these are the events in my life this past week that have left me exhausted. But it is my duty, my obligation, my calling to spread awareness and to give hope and to shine light in times of darkness. So all I can ask is that you send prayers for the family of the deceased. Send loving thoughts to anyone who may be hurting to the point where suicide feels like the only option. Make sure the people that you love know they are loved, that they are valued, that they are worthy. Love yourself. And be kind to one another always. For we never know the deepest and darkest struggles that someone else may be battling.

Keeping it on the edge,

Shelbee

Linking up with these Fabulous Link Ups.

Photos c/o Unsplash.