Can you imagine sharing that a loved one had die of cancer or heart disease, and having the listener ask if they were otherwise in good health? Clearly no one does that! Yet, I can't tell you the number of times the sentence: "My father died by suicide." has been met with: "Was he in good health otherwise?" Umm.... NO! Clearly he was not. Healthy functioning brains do not turn on themselves.
Let's face it, people often say the wrong thing. The word suicide, in and of itself, cast a silent shadow on any conversation. People are far more likely to whisper and gossip than they are to engage openly with anyone left behind.
Yet, I remain dumbfounded by the lack of social understanding around depression and the potential for suicide. The brain is an organ. Depression is a disease and unfortunately, it has a mortality rate. Clearly that concept can’t be so hard to grasp.
Especially when people seem to easily understand that almost every other illness on the planet has the potential for some pretty negative outcomes. Diabetes, for example, is generally considered manageable, yet everyone knows it can result in death. Obesity, anorexia, bulimia, drug and alcohol addiction - all provide similar examples. Yet if a person eats, drinks, or starves themselves to death, no one would ask if they were otherwise in good health. Clearly, they were not. So why is depression so different?
I suppose my father’s age, (82) may play a role in the frequency with which I’m asked this question. But here again, its premise is absurd. If an 82 year-old man was out on a bicycle and got hit by a car, no one would ask if he was otherwise in good heath.
Perhaps people are looking for a point of condolence… if, for example, he was dying of cancer and chose to take his own life to end his suffering, that would somehow be okay. But why is it that we assume cancer is more painful (or more frightening), than mental illness?
Why is depression so clearly not acceptable as deadly disease? Is it the fact that so many of us have experienced it? Perhaps the thought simply hits too close to home? But isn’t that even more reason to talk about it? Why can’t we as a society teach everyone what to say - how to help - how to recognize the signs?
Yet, sadly, even in my own family, my mother and sister have chosen to tell no one. They also want me to keep my mouth shut. But I’ve hidden my story for long enough. It’s time to take up the torch and promote change. Of course, I have no idea what that means…. But I do know that it’s time to for me at least, to speak up.
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