Therapist analyzes Su!cIde by Ren

I love your reaction.:heart: to this.
Big love from the biggest renegade in Western Australia

in suicides there’s a common saying at least where Im from… suicides don’t come alone, they come in waves…

Please react to crutch by Ren

Survivors of family and friends who took their lives needs to be addressed more than it is. Ren’s music covers this topic perfectly because his best friend ended his life so he knows how it feels, and he thoroughly gets it. I don’t think many understand how much this effects the survivors until they go through it. You never get over it, and struggle to get through it. I loss my brother to suicide and I’ve never been impacted so hard by anything in my life like that. It’s horrible. The guilt eats me alive because I feel like if I had known, I could have stopped him. I also feel like nobody gives a crap about how the survivors feel.

I lost one of my closest friends to suicide on march 19th. I cant even describe the pain, it hurts so so so fucking bad. I have lost a couple now, this one just hit me like a truck. I went from not crying in a couple years, to balling my eyes out consistently, every single fucking day… I wish I could’ve helped, been there more, I’m holding it to myself, but I know i shouldn’t. I truly wish nobody else this pain, it is so unbearable. Survivors guilt especially is the issue.

Editing this, she listened to it on march 19th, what a coincidence… I love her, you gained a new sub.

Wow…if i could have found someone like her a few years ago when i started losing all my friends to overdose along with my best friend, maybe i could have been helped to not have gone so far over the edge that im not sure i can ever come back.

To hear the end of this… It makes me think of people in my close circle how they could react if I committed suicide. Which I think about almost daily.

First song to ever make me cry. It describes it so perfectly that it feels like I myself am going through it. A few of my friends are depressed and I can just picture this happening and being late. It’s so vividly described and that makes me so emotional

I had a great friend of mine commit suicide about 15 years ago and I was the last person they talked to before it happened. I still have problems trying to shake the feelings that I could have done something to prevent it or could’ve realized what was going on sooner. I live with that regret to this day.

That last part always hits so hard for those of us who have lost others.

My father committed suicide the last day of my junior year in high school. People always think of the poor suicide victim, not the permanent pain the survivors go through. It leaves scars on your soul like a severe burn victim has on his or her face…but no one sees it.

@HeartSupport non of my friends committed suicide, but when my parents divorced, i felt dead inside too. i have depression since than, and 100% feel all he says, because i see my younger self jumping the moment they told me they will divorce. my parents weren’t perfect, my dad has anger issues and yells, but didn’t hit me at all. i feel kinda like a little bitch saying this, but i was a brat trown in cold water without knowing how to swim. i had all kinds of toyes, but after they divorced, we lived in a car for 3months. (btw my mom cheated and told everyone on her birthday)

This has the potential to be a bit of a stream of consciousness from me. I don’t even know where to start. Something about the lyric of trapping (his) youth in a trunk really resonated in different levels and caused me to understand a little more about myself. For context, I’ve been struggling with depression since before I was a teenager. Father had depression thanks to his boss (who was later taken to court by other people for her having caused mental trauma in multiple other employees), I got yanked out of my home and taken to a different country where I had no friends, and was on the wrong end of constant xenophobic abuse from my peers all throughout my formative years, with a family life which was not a mentally safe environment to put it mildly. Growing up with someone who was extremely unpredictable in behaviour gives you hypersensitivity to physical cues. As a result I am hyper aware of social situations, because learning to read tone, body language, etc. and then fleeing when I sense things are going to a bad place became my chief coping strategy, and has caused deep social anxiety in me. I was spared any physical trauma, because even broken as my father was by what had happened to him, he was never physically aggressive. Mentally, and emotionally, though, my growth was all over the place. My flight (particularly) and freeze impulses are very highly developed, my fight impulses… well, less so.

My only ‘safe place’, so to speak, was on a football pitch when everything else other than the sport disappeared for an hour, or an hour and a half.

Eventually, in my twenties - ten years or more too late - I admitted to myself that I had depression (which was a big thing for me to own up to, because I had seen what it had done to my father). And the mental health care in that country at the time was worse than useless. It made things worse in many ways, other than one sole therapist doing CBT with me (because that was the only thing being offered), who told me rather bluntly three quarters of the way through that CBT wouldn’t be helpful for me because I do it already - it was one of the coping strategies I had taught myself. She then spent the rest of the sessions doing more traditional talking therapy.

Anyway, there came a time when I was standing on the roof of a tall building. Had a decision to make. I made it.

And in making it, I locked a part of me away inside a trunk. I locked my youth away - the two, very important friends that were the sole bright sparks in my life haven’t heard from me in years: it’s too painful, and too much of a catalyst. I locked away hope. Hope makes you believe that the hurt can stop, and that is too alluring. I locked away the illusion of choice, because again, that’s too dangerous. It turns out that I did choose suicide that day. I had the choice of killing all of me, or killing part of me. I chose the latter. Equally, I locked myself away completely that day, too. Part of me is in that trunk referenced in the song, the rest is locked between my pain and any escape. Having forbidden myself suicide because of what it would do to those who care about me (misguidedly as it sometimes feels), I’ve left myself completely trapped.

I’ve felt for a long, long time that the way we talk about suicide as a society is counterproductive. I’ve been told on multiple occasions that suicide is selfish - because apparently the feelings of the well matter more than the feelings of the sick - presumably we’re just lost causes; and it is the one thing most likely to push me over the edge. Instead of society telling me to think of what it will do to the people left behind - I know, goddamn it! I’m not stupid - and then getting on with life when the ‘crisis’ is ‘averted’, maybe society should think about the pain someone has to be in where the only way out is to do the one thing we are evolutionarily trained not to do. But we as a society, as a species, are too scared of the topic to actually address it, and talk about it openly and compassionately. There’s a particularly misguided (in my opinion) belief in much of society that to talk about it, to acknowledge it even, to destigmatise it, will somehow cause more people to choose suicide. Even the words we use about it, like ‘commit’ screams that belief. All that means is that the only people who grapple with the problems are those people who are the least able to cope with the subject emotionally. Those of us who are considering it.

That isn’t me dismissing the pain of people left behind, either. One of my friends (in so much as I had any after stepping down from the ledge, more an acquaintance, because I couldn’t let myself get close to anyone) took his own life. I understand the guilt - in my case there’s also a particularly pernicious and illogical thought that it should have been me instead, as though I could have taken his pain on mine, because he had so much more to live for than me. I truly get that - it’s the sole reason I locked myself away. If I could rewind time and press a button to prevent my existence, then I would. But I can’t do that, so here I am.

Stuck. Trapped. Locked in a trunk.

Liberal Thought Police: You Cannot say that word, orrrr… even Spell it!
Ren: Watch Me… Su1cide, Su1cide, Su1cide… we Need to be ABLE to discuss it!!!

I too lost a best friend to suicide so this definitely made me cry. It’s good to cry

One of my favorite “songs” is ‘Suicide’ by Bobby Gaylor. It’s a spoken word piece, but, at least to me, very uplifting and inspiring.

should really listen to for joe

F. I. N. E
Fucked up
You left unexpectedly. I cleaned your home. I look at her and see her not feeling you either. Miss you so much. And so fucking grateful for your energy :sparkles: I drew strength from our connection to cut the armor. Team work makes the dream work.

Maybe they were never meant to see the light Maybe they just were it naturally. I am thankful for angels.

When I was 13, yes, 13, I was in college. I had jus t completed the final exams and passed, I had a concert with my colleges band. It went perfectly. And I went out with a wide smile to find my mom and my friend sad. As they looked at me, all I saw was worry, and I grew worried as well. That was when I learned that my only other friend, was found in his basement, hung from the roof. For the next 30 minutes, I said nothing. I stared blankly as my mind went over every interaction I ever had. How he was pushing everyone away and became more and more separated, more and more quiet when he was normally a very extroverted kid. And I realized how I knew it. I could’ve helped, if I had just realized that suicide was… real. Eventually, my mom said “it’s ok to cry” and everything came out, for three days straight there was rarely a moment I wasn’t crying. After that happened I had discovered a lot about me, as my personality had changed to be almost obsessively protective, fatherly, constantly worried about everyone’s health and safety from everything and themselves. Unfortunately, at that same time, I found that I was very prone to addiction.