Healing with Class

I got an unexpected opportunity a few days ago. One of the people I've talked to is the person from NAMI who sponsors the monthly suicide survivor's support group that I've been attending. She's been great. I've said for awhile that one of the few things worse than what I've had to deal with, the suicide of a spouse, would be the suicide of one's child. Her son took his life several years ago. I've consistently been impressed with how open she's been to talking about all of this stuff, anything that might come up. She's one of the people that I look up to and gives me hope about where I might be able to get someday.

She got ahold of me a little while ago and let me know that there's a class up at the local university on death and dying. The teacher was looking for someone to come in and talk about suicide for the one class they'd have on the topic. She'd done it before, but had the feeling that they might be more interested in hearing from someone who'd had a spouse commit suicide. She asked if I'd be interested in speaking to the class. To say my initial reaction was mixed would be an understatement. It was flattering to hear that she thinks I'm doing well enough to handle that, and that I'd have some to offer to the class. My guts also tied themselves in knots wondering what might go wrong, how bad it might be if I started crying in front of the class, what might happen if someone asked an insensitive question and I might want to flip out on them.

One thing kept coming up, though. I'd been saying for some time that there's nothing I can do about what I've been through. Ariel's dead, and nothing can change that. Much though I'd like to make the deal with God that if I suffered enough then no-one else would have to go through anything like this. However, if there's nothing I can do to change it, I can at least be open to the idea that maybe there's some good I can do with it. If I can pass something on that helps someone else, then I'd be good with that. Admittedly, I'd thought that it would be more one-on-one with someone else who's working through this. However, that never precluded getting to talk to folks who are maybe looking at going into working with folks who've gone through major grief and loss. But it's still a way to try to make some good out of it.

So I decided to do it.

I appreciated the suggestion I got that I could think of some different ways to approach the topic and then ask the class what they'd want to hear about. I'd thought of a couple to start with. I said I could talk about some of the research and literature I'd read about suicide and what tends to be associated with it, what tends to aggravate the risk for reoffense. I could talk about some of what I've learned about how the grief process with suicide differs from other kinds of loss due to death. I could also talk some about what I've gone through and what I've found to be helpful. All three of them seemed to be of interest to them. Then again, at the start of the class they weren't all that energetic or responsive. I guess that's one of the hazards of having a class that starts at 6:00 PM.

To be honest, I don't remember a whole lot of what happened, or at least not very clearly. I ended up going through those three areas in that order, which I think worked out well. It made it easier to not start with the stuff that would be more likely to push my own buttons. It also seemed to get the class more interested and involved. They had some good questions, and it's also when a couple of them first started talking about their own experiences with suicide. It seemed like that lead nicely into what's different about the grief that comes with suicide. It was a good chance to work in Bowlby's model of grief, which they hadn't heard about yet. That works, especially as they'd heard of the Kubler-Ross stages and seemed to have some of the same reactions about it. At the end, I did talk about some of what I'd been through. That included reading off a couple pieces I'd written up that got posted on the state's NAMI website.

When I was done, I looked down at my watch and said something about how I was surprised to have been talking for an hour. I asked if there were any other questions; there were none. Then the teacher said thanks and that the class was over. I was a little surprised by that and looked down at my watch again. At that point, I realized that I'd made a math mistake. I hadn't been talking for an hour. I'd talked for two hours. Non-stop. The class was very kind, with several thanking me for coming in. The teacher also thanked me, too, and said that it was very good and he'd invite me back up again next year if he gets to teach the class again.

I hadn't realized it at the time, but it really took a lot out of me. I didn't really notice it 'til Friday, when all of a sudden in the early afternoon it was hard to focus. I had a hard time with even stupid things at work, like typing. It's rather disconcerting when I mean to type one word but, when I look at the screen, something else is there. Saturday I was pretty much useless. It also brought up how much I've tended to run on having one thing that I HAVE to deal with to another. I'm not real good at just sitting quietly and peacefully anymore.

There is something, though, that is satisfying about having been able to do something like that...a couple things, really. One is realizing that I can handle something like that. It wasn't easy, far from it. There were several times I choked up while I was talking. However, I was able to pull it together and keep talking. I wasn't so trashed afterward that I had to sit in the parking lot smoking multiple cigarettes until I could safely drive home (which was one of the things I was afraid might happen). I was also glad to be able to pass on some of what I've been through. It seemed like one of the students who had some questions was also struggling with some of her own experiences. She was crying for part of the class, but it also seemed like it helped for her to hear that, yeah, it usually is that rough and that long to work through all of what comes up with a suicide.

I'm still sorting it through, but I think it was worthwhile. It's not something that everyone might want to do. Still, it also does help make things a bit brighter with the idea that maybe I can do something worthwhile after all.