I can’t tell you how pleased am I am to have Eileen on my blog today. I met Eileen when I won the Mom Central Blog Grant, and we connected immediately. Her kindness and openness was so apparent right from the start. I had the absolute pleasure of meeting her in real life at BlogHer and she did not disappoint. We had a very meaningful conversation about mental health and suicide, her dad and my friends, which was so special to me. So I’m very glad to share her words with you today during Suicide Prevention Week. Also check out her post from today where she talks more about her Dad and her inspiration for writing this post http://calandroclan.com/2011/
P.S. As of 10:17pm PST Thursday night we have raised $1,600 for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I will be dyeing my hair BLUE tomorrow/Friday at 11am PST. Keep your eyes peeled for photos and maybe even a special video blog on World Suicide Prevention Day Saturday. xo
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GUEST POST By: Eileen Calandro, CalandroClan.com, @calandro5
Writing about my Dad creates a challenge for me. I’ve posted on my personal blog twice about him, created a philanthropic idea in his honor (I call it Pledge-A-Post), and I still get caught up in figuring out what I want to say. And when I should say it. I don’t want to over-share or create a sob-story that generates pity for myself.
I worry about dishonoring him with my words. I want my words to make a difference. I want to be heard. I want others to seek the help they need after reading what it felt like to lose my Dad. I don’t want people to feel alone in suffering or grieving.
When I finally get my words out, my confusion goes away. I find that when I stop being quiet and start talking (writing), I find others who grieve like I do -and did.
My father died by suicide a month before my twenty-first birthday, the day after my sister’s birthday. What horrid timing. (Would there ever be a good time?) Now my sister’s birthday is always The Day Before. We try not to talk about it, but the date on the calendar never goes away.
I’m now forty-three. If my Dad was around, he would rejoice in my accomplishments and in my family. I know my Dad would love to talk with me about my career and hear what I do for a living. He would marvel at my boys -their energy, joy of life, their abilities and talents.
I miss him.
But he couldn’t look into a crystal ball and see how things would be. He faced April 12, 1989 and decided he didn’t want to see the 13th. Or fourteenth. Or my twenty-first birthday. Or my wedding day. Or the birth of his first grandchild. He didn’t look forward to those days. He only saw his debt and his failures; he only felt his pain. He couldn’t get past those things to see another day.
With this being Suicide Prevention Week, I hesitated, once again, when faced with writing about my Dad. I don’t know how to prevent anyone from committing suicide. Obviously. If I did, my Dad would still be here. All I know is how it felt when I got that call and how it still feels when someone makes an idle comment, “It makes me want to kill myself.” Or “I wanted to put a bullet in my head.”
I hate comments like that. It’s taken years for me to only flinch on the inside when someone says them. I know I used to flinch on the outside.
This week, and also for the weeks to come, can we please stop with those comments? People actually do get the point where they want to kill themselves. They do put bullets in their heads. And the people who are left feel confused, isolated, grief, and sorrow.
Why do they kill themselves? Maybe people who commit suicide don’t want to see another day. Maybe they decide they’ve had enough, or that things would be better off without them. Maybe they seek revenge and they, most likely, feel desperation.
I don’t know.
I just know I miss my Dad and wish he had realized he was worth effort and solutions and love. He suffered from mental illness and a childhood of abuse. He self-medicated with alcohol. Maybe he didn’t think he was worthy of a joyous life, but I thought he was. After all, he gave me mine.
I honor my Dad every day by making healthy choices for myself, raising healthy boys, and making sure my marriage is filled with support and love. I work to help others feel loved and important. I work to encourage others to seek the help they need. I don’t want people to feel alone in suffering or grieving. I want my words to make a difference.
Blessings to you and yours this week and always. Survivors are not alone in our grief and if you are considering suicide, you are not alone in your suffering. Seek help. Find solutions. You deserve it.
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motherunadorned
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Your words make a difference.
“It’s taken years for me to only flinch on the inside when someone says them. I know I used to flinch on the outside.” This says so much, so eloquently. thank you for helping open hearts and eyes to this important issue.
Thank you so much for your powerful words. After 13 years since my brother took his life I finally feel like I have released some of the deep sadness and guilt that came as a result of his choice. I so appreciate you talking about those idioms (‘just shoot me’, ‘put a gun to my head’, or the ever popular motion of making a finger gun and pulling the trigger.) Mark chose to literally put a gun to his head, and to this day, his face flashes in my mind when I hear those sayings. Sending you much love and gratitude for this beautiful post.
That picture brings me such joy. I knew you then… and I know you now and I want this whole wide ‘web world’ to know: you are an amazing woman, a brave soul and a human being your father would have gushed over. Proud to know you my friend. Your words matter…. keep it up!
your words make a difference to me. they make a difference to a lot of people. So does your open heart and your authenticity. Thank you so much for telling your story here and sharing a piece of your life with Cristi’s readers. Im grateful for your speaking out as a child touched by this immense loss. *HUG*
You and your words do make a difference. Hearing these stories are so painful to me because I see what happens in the aftermath of a suicide. I was there once. I may get there again…hopefully not. But when I have those moments of weakness I think of these stories. I don’t want my family to hurt. That would be the last thing I would want to do.
I’m so sorry for your father.
Thank you for sharing your story with all of us. Xoxo
Thank you, everyone, for your kind, supportive words. Every time I write about my Dad, more people come out to support what I’m talking about. ~Kimberly -please use whatever works to make sure the people who love you get to enjoy your beautiful self for as long as possible. Without you, we would just be left with a big you-shaped hole on our planet. I’m so grateful for all of you. Thank you!!
Your post here, and the others you’ve written about this subject are so eloquent. They give such honor to your father, as his daughter, and to your mother and sister who have gone through this with you.
I, too, am a part of this club “no one wants to join” due to my mother’s suicide. I have been trying to find the time to give more awareness to Suicide prevention week by writing my own story, yet I have not. I wanted to get permission…from those connected to me, those that were also signed up without permission. But I am going to still try…today, after all it is my story to tell as well.
This is just beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with all of us.
XO
A.
Twitter: FarewellStrangr
says:
I think those words are just right. They’re honest and for someone who hasn’t experienced this they’re enlightening. I can’t imagine losing a parent to suicide. Thank you for sharing your experience.
Oh my friend… this is gorgeous… your words do make a difference. Every single one of them. Your heart, your honesty, your love…. hopefully they all all change minds and salve souls. I’m proud of you.
I look at my daughter and no matter how bad it gets and there are times it does feel that bad, I know that I could never end my life.
This post really touched me. Thank you for your honesty.