A Safe Place for the Pain No One Knows How to Talk About
There are some kinds of pain that make people uncomfortable. Suicide is one of them.
If you are here because someone you love died by suicide, or because your life has been deeply affected by suicide in any way, I want you to know this first:
- You are not strange for being here.
- You are not weak for still hurting.
- And you are not wrong for asking hard questions.
This space exists for people who are often left carrying their grief quietly.
I See You – Even When Others Don’t Know What to Say
When suicide touches your life, it can feel isolating in a way few people understand.
People may avoid the subject. They may offer well-meaning but painful spiritual answers. They may expect you to “move on” far sooner than your heart can.
But suicide loss does not fit into neat stages. It reshapes your world, your memories, and sometimes even your faith.
Why I Write About Suicide and Mental Health
I am a woman of faith.
I also live with my own brain-based health challenges.
I am not a licensed therapist or physician. I hold a Doctorate in Education, and I write because I believe something deeply important:
The church and society must learn to speak about mental health and suicide with more humility, compassion, and understanding.
Too many people who struggle—and too many who grieve—are silently carrying shame that does not belong to them.
I write so that silence no longer has the final word.
When Grief After Suicide Feels Complicated
Grief after suicide often feels different.
You may find yourself holding many emotions at the same time—love and sadness, confusion and longing, anger and compassion. You may replay conversations. You may question what you could have known or done.
These thoughts do not mean you failed.
They mean you cared.
Healing after suicide is not about finding perfect answers.
It is about learning how to breathe again inside a story you never wanted.
Faith When the Loss Doesn’t Make Sense
For many people, suicide loss quietly shakes their spiritual foundation.
You may still believe in God—and yet feel disappointed, confused, or distant.
You may pray and feel nothing.
You may wonder why comfort takes so long.
Here, faith is not used to cover pain.
Faith is allowed to be gentle.
Faith is allowed to be quiet.
Faith is allowed to sit with unanswered questions.
“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” — Psalm 46:1
Sometimes refuge is not relief.
Sometimes refuge is simply being held while you hurt.
Your Life Still Matters
Your life did not lose its value because someone else struggled.
Your story did not lose its purpose because tragedy touched it.
You are still here.
And that matters.
You deserve space to grieve without judgment, to heal without pressure, and to be met with kindness as you walk forward—one slow step at a time.
You Deserve to Celebrate
May is the month, that for years, that I have tried to run away from. I’ve despised it on multiple occasions. Why? May is the month my brother died by suicide.
What many people, even mental health professionals, won’t tell you is that anniversaries are very tough to navigate. Humans who have never lost one to suicide do not understand. People will say things like, “It’s time to let it go” or even better (note of sarcasm) “When are you going to let it go? Stop being angry? Stop being sad?”
The truth is that I am always going to be sad and I am always going to be a bit angry. When my brother first died by suicide, I was angry. I felt like he left me behind in a world that no longer made sense to me and one that I didn’t know how to navigate anymore. In my head, I often would tell myself, “I should have been the one to leave or to die.” In my eyes, my life no longer had value. If he couldn’t be here, why should I then have to be?
A good friend of mine, a mentor of sorts, suggested that I try to find some way to celebrate him during these times. Our birthdays are very close together and the first year after suffering this devasting loss I simply did not want to celebrate mine. It seemed callous to me to celebrate when he was no longer here.
However, I now plan a getaway with my best friend around this time every year. It doesn’t matter where we go or even what we do. It is a time to relax, laugh, and most of all…LIVE. I can’t blow out birthday candles with him anymore. But I CAN bring meaning to his life and mine.
You see, birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries are always going to be tough. But how would you want your loved one to be remembered? Do you want to remember them for ONE choice that they made, or do you want to CELEBRATE them and their life?
The anniversary of his death now reminds me that he is with Jesus. He is out of pain and living his best life. That makes me happy. Our birthdays? A time to laugh and reminisce about all the goofy things we did as kids. That brings joy to my heart.
May I celebrate my brother this month of May? I will…for his life continues to have meaning and so does mine. Both are worth celebrating.