Tag: suicide

Licensed to spam 25k people

Reading Time: 3 minutes

For a few years I’ve been a subscriber to The Listserve. It’s an opt-in email subscription, where each day a randomly selected subscriber gets to share whatever they want via email to the entire group.

Most emails begin with the sender saying they never thought they’d be selected. And I can relate with this thought. It was a year ago today, I sent my message to the massive group.

I had a few rough ideas which I might want to send if I was ever selected. But something else entirely was was on my mind that day.

Following is the message I sent – Wed, May 28, 2014 at 1:02 PM.

Subject: [The Listserve] RUOKday:

New Year’s Day is supposed to be a celebration, a reflection, a hope for things to improve.

From this year on, I will always remember the 1st of January as the day our family friend’s 15 year old son took his own life.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds. His loving family is left with no answers, except that perhaps he is no longer suffering in silence.

News travels fast on social networks. Within a week the boy’s Facebook page lit up with thousands of posts, each one from someone in similar disbelief sharing how much they loved him, and will dearly miss him.

He couldn’t have known how wide and deep his network extends.

When someone who is loved and very popular, seemingly happy with life, and always up for an adventure, decides something is troubling him so much he can’t seek help, what chance do others have?

I know I hugged my sons extra tightly when I heard the tragic news. It was an upsetting and tough conversation to then have with them about why it happened. But it’s an awareness that’s helpful they have.

I tried to make it clear, if they’re ever struggling with life there is always someone to talk to. We can overcome all of life’s problems, no matter how big they seem.

Do all our other family, friends, colleagues know they have someone to talk to when they feel down about life?

There is an awareness programme based on this unusual email subject line. They encourage people to ask “Are you OK?” They believe a conversation could change a life. I believe it also.

I do hope you’re OK.

Perhaps someone in your circle could benefit from hearing you want to know they’re OK too.

Warm regards

Ryan
@rbrink77
ryan.listserved[a t] brinkworth.id.au
Dubai, UAE

P.S. Some coincidences are very interesting. Just before I was going to hit the send button on this message, I received today’s list serve message from Tim Rowberry. Not only do we happen to be sharing a post on the same sad topic, the ominous date he mentions as being his birthday, is mine also.

The ListServe lets you choose to add your contact details or not. Due to the point of my message, I wanted to be available for feedback.

In summary I received 19 emails, and 3 or 4 tweets in reply to my post. Overall the feedback was good. Some people shared their own related stories. Others just let me know they thought the email was good or important and that they had bought into the topic. And there were three messages which were completely psychotic – recommending Suicide, and outlining the environmental issues that will make sure nothing gets better for anyone. It takes all types to make the world.

Although I’ll never know what effect it will have on anyone, I’m glad I got the message out there. A conversation has every chance of being the start of something good.

The saddest blog I hope I ever write

Reading Time: 3 minutes

A tragic event rocked our new year.  On New Year’s Eve, a dear family friend’s son took his own life.

It still seems like a bad dream.

There was no prior warning, there were no signs. There seems to be no reasons.

An army of friends banded together to show the family their support and help. Though our help seems pretty trivial in the face of their heartache wondering why – perhaps a question they’ll have for the rest of their lives.  And we could offer no help to alleviate the pain that had cut so deep, none of them have eaten or slept in the four days since it happened.

We could really just let them know we’re there.

20140105-063958.jpg
Myles’s picture of his friend. He wants to make it into a card for the family

The boy was friendly with my two sons.  They both loved his sense of humour, and were drawn to his charisma.  So I felt it was right to tell them what happened, though I first Google-d to confirm the experts recommend it also.

It was a terribly tough conversation to have with the boys. The web advice was quite helpful. We obviously avoided sharing any specifics. There were useful messages about suicide being an illness, that the stress & unhappiness makes people forget there are always people to talk to; and that their actions were just an attempt to feel better when they thought there was nothing else they could do.  It’s a very sad, but important lesson.  And it was upsetting  to see my boys learn it so intimately.

I thought my five year old may be too young to understand. It was clear though he knew exactly what we were saying.  When we took them to visit the family the day after, he asked if the boy was there in a grave.  And on the way home, both my boys were asking really good questions about what could they do.  My nine year old has practically made it a mission to be there and check on all of his friends at school regularly.

In terms of my own feelings, I still find this very difficult to accept. How could things grow so overwhelming for a 15 year old that it comes to this? To his close family and friends, it makes no sense. To an outsider, it makes even less sense.

We already knew he was popular and well-liked.  His Facebook page lit up with an overwhelming number of posts from his friends, all sharing how highly they thought of him, and how much they’ll miss him. He couldn’t have known the level of support he had.  He could not have realised how many people felt broken at his passing.

The day after we heard the news, not by specific plan, I had my weekly run in their suburb.  It was a lovely cool, upbeat morning, with lots of positive thoughts.  Without even truly realising where I was, a solemn feeling swept through me as I came close to their neighborhood.  I suddenly had to stop, walk off course toward the entrance’s security gate.  Then my mind filled with visions of him on his bike on these same streets.  Usually with friends, most often making jokes and hearing his distinctive laugh, laughing hysterically.  And here I am in the dark silence of morning, almost fittingly cold and empty. I was overwhelmed with the thoughts of his demise.  His family still wide awake in the villa, feeling crushed by their loss. I turned back, felt the pure tragedy and became quite a blubbering mess.

At the end of a long morning run, I generally feel wonderful to be alive. That morning I felt more reflective on how lucky we are, and that we have a duty to make the most of our time.
Because, for whatever reason, some people aren’t here to enjoy this opportunity.  May they now rest in peace.