Years ago, in my 20’s, I suffered from chronic gallbladder attacks. I say chronic, because I was misdiagnosed repeatedly. Since my symptoms did not fall into the category of typical gallbladder symptoms, they didn’t think to give me an ultrasound. It took me passing out at a company dinner, due to the pain, for the doctors to decide I had something that might require a specialist. From my first attack until my surgery, the span of time that elapsed was about two years.
No, this post isn’t about gallbladder attacks. It’s to highlight how many people can probably understand how awful that must have been. Physical pain, that we can understand. However, emotional pain… that is tougher for some people to comprehend.
There have been several times when I’ve heard people respond to news of a suicide with astonishment, bewilderment, disgust… they truly can not understand how a person could do that.
“How could they do that to their family?”
“I would never consider that even an option!”
I believe that those who don’t get it, truly don’t get it. However, what I would want them to know is, often when a person gets to the point of considering suicide, it’s because they are in dire need of relief. There is an emotional burden so heavy, they are desperate for release.
There are many reasons a person might be suffering from chronic emotional pain… grief, life circumstances, psychological reasons, physiological reasons, and so on and so on. Regardless of the reason, emotional pain is real.
Since I’ve been there, I want to describe what chronic emotional pain felt like to me when I’ve experienced it. I know everyone is different. This is my story, others might experience it differently. I also want to add that this wasn’t something I had 365 days a year. As I’ve mentioned on another blog, I’ve been on and off antidepressants since my 20’s. When I was on antidepressants, usually the emotional pain would be tamed. However, when I did have my bouts with it, it looked like this…
Sometimes emotional pain would have me feel like I was backed into a corner. I would try to hide from it by finding a small space. Usually a closet, though sometimes a bathroom floor. I would cry, I would shake, I would pray, and it was exhausting. Sometimes it would feel like I couldn’t breathe. Eventually, I’d come out of the closet, the bathroom, or wherever and life would resume. There were other times when I would just shut off all together and I’d be numb, not feeling anything and seemingly having to remind myself to breath. And still, life would resume. I’d go to work, I’d sometimes socialize, I’d even laugh… but in the background, there was that pain. Sometimes a dull ache, but other times it would build to what felt unbearable. There were episodes that would last weeks and sometimes they’d last months. There was a darkness I was living in, able to operate, because it wasn’t complete darkness. But enough that it just made life harder. And when I’d have my flair ups, it was hard.
When I had my gallbladder attacks, they didn’t happen every day. Sometimes during that two year period they didn’t happen every week. I even went a couple months without an episode. However, when they did happen they were momentarily debilitating. Much like the chronic emotional pain I’ve experienced on and off during my life. And just because I’d have periods go by without a gallbladder attack, it didn’t mean I didn’t have anything wrong with my gallbladder. Because I did. I had surgery and they took that dysfunctional troublemaker out.
When a person lives a life with chronic emotional pain and it goes on for weeks, months, or even years, and they don’t see an end in sight…. Suicide might become the exit sign that they look to for a way out.
Now… Imagine if I were to rewrite that previous statement and replace the term “emotional pain” with the term “physical pain”, like this:
When a person lives a life with chronic physical pain and it goes on for weeks, months, or even years, and they don’t see an end in sight…. Suicide might become the exit sign that they look to for a way out.
For some reason, I think the latter is more understood.
However, what is needed is for more people to understand that emotional pain can hurt as much as chronic pain. What is needed is acceptance and understanding that mental health issues are just as real (and deadly) as physical issues and symptoms.
If someone has diabetes and they’re 5 years in and they’re complaining about blood sugar issues, are you likely to think or tell them to “get over it?” Is it to much information if they share their diagnosis with you as a reason they’re avoiding the ice cream social?
Yet, the stigma that still surrounds mental illness means that it’s still not discussed as openly and easily as a physical illness. Many people feel like they need to hide their mental health issues so that they don’t get a stigma or so they can be accepted. I know I felt that way.
“Across the US: Since 1999, the suicide rate has risen 28%” Life is getting harder. More than ever, we need to be there for each other. We need to be able to find compassion and understanding for these things that are hard to understand: like depression, coping with grief, anxiety, OCD, PSTD, and so much more.
I’m not a doctor (duh) and I’m not a therapist (duh). I’m just a mom, looking for her cup of coffee. And I think about these things. I have no idea why people have mental illness or suffer from these soul wounds. However, speaking from the point of view of one who has suffered from mental illness, I just want to say that it’s real. It can hurt. And, it can be deadly. So please, if someone you know or love is suffering emotional pain, please, behave like it’s a physical illness. Get educated on the topic. Be strong for them when they can’t. Just as you would if they had a physical illness, encourage them to find a professional. Encourage them to find a therapist. Help them find hope. Because a grain of hope can go a long way.
In case anyone is interested, here’s a couple links with great resources for learning more:
DIVINE SUICIDE: Depressive Breakdown as a Call to Awakening – by Jeff Foster
Sandy's Short Story Long- This is where I write. 
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