Enough

Last week I got a message to call the parentals.  It was that sombre tone that’s usually indicative that bad news is coming.  It was.  My cousin’s husband had killed himself.  

I was stunned … I’m not sure why when someone who isn’t terminal or over 90 dies I’m still stunned … you’d think I’d be used to those calls, there have been too many of them … yet, I’m always unprepared.  

I didn’t know him very well, in fairness, I don’t know her very well.  While we saw each other a lot growing up, she is just that little bit older, so we didn’t play together.  My heart was still sad for her, for him.  I don’t understand the pain one must feel to be at that point - to make that choice.  I don’t want to.  It’s not that I don’t want to be empathetic or compassionate … I’m selfish and that weight, it must be unbearably heavy, unbearably painful, unbearably lonely … I don’t want to understand that kind of pain … I wouldn’t wish it on anyone - ever.

To be fair, I don’t know that that’s what he felt, it’s what I imagine it must feel like if suicide is the choice.  Keeping that inside must be isolating, but maybe that’s just what it would feel like for me,  as someone who processes out loud, who over shares all the things … for others, maybe what they feel is different … is hard because of who they are and what they need.  

I’m really not sure why this is sitting with me, I didn’t really know him … while I know her better, I don’t really know her either - not really.

I’m not feeling sad, per se.  It’s not grief.  It’s a heaviness, an energy I can’t quite shake.  I don’t need to cry and I’m doing all the things … but there is a weight that’s landed.  I’m not sure where it came from or why it's there … Truth be told, I’m not even sure if it's related.  It’s just there.  I’ve considered it’s the act itself … the ripples that hurt the ones left behind, that somehow we live in a world where that is the only option left … 

This isn’t my first suicide, there have been too many over the course of my life.  Worse, I’m not an exception, I suspect people who don’t know people who have killed themselves are the exceptions.  Finding words, well, more and more … they don’t exist.  

I will sit through the discomfort, sit with the weight … acknowledge it, breathe through it, let it go.  It has a purpose, avoiding it won’t lessen it or make it disappear.  Ignoring it only intensifies it over time … I’ve learned that lesson … sighs.  

I had to pause while writing this.  I’m not sure why … I usually don't.  Maybe there wasn’t anything more to say … maybe I didn’t know how to verbalize what was left to say … 

I may not understand the why’s behind suicide, may not understand the internal dialouge, struggle, weight or pain … I’ve seen what it does to those left behind … the pain, the confusion, the guilt … I understand feeling helpless in helping people I love.  

As I’ve navigated the week I keep landing on the phrase “I am enough …” Here is the thing, while none of this is about me, not happening to me, maybe the weight is the reminder, to stop, to put on our own mask first … to remind ourselves we are enough, we do matter.  To ensure the people around us feel seen, feel heard, to know … they matter, they are enough.  

To whomever is reading this … I may not know you, I may not see you … but I know this, I believe this, you matter … you are enough … you’ve always been enough and you’ll always be enough.  There will be days where that might not feel true, where you feel isolated, alone, or you’re in pain.  Days you feel heavy and dark and scared or whatever you feel that makes you doubt.  In those moments, remember, you aren’t alone … you are enough.  

That might sound trite, or unbelievable or insert the adjective here … I don’t care … if someone needs to hear that … I’ll say it again … Say it with me … until you believe it, with every cell, every molecule and every fibre of your being.  

You are enough.  

I am enough.

You matter.

I matter.  

Once you believe it … pass it on.  

Do I think that’s enough to cure mental illness?  No.  Maybe helping someone feel seen - really seen and safe in being seen … not broken, not something to be fixed or improved upon … a place where they can exist - even for a moment, as themselves … naive?  Maybe.  Probably.  Yet, here we are - in this time and space, where the world feels heavy.  

I may not be able to save the world … but I can remind you … YOU MATTER … YOU ARE ENOUGH.  There is strength in those words, more than seems possible.  If they help, lean on them, lean into them, repeat them.  

You matter. 

You are enough.