I am never quite sure what to make of columns like this: Joan Wickersham’s father committed suicide years ago, and his death clearly still cuts deep. What to do? She writes in the Boston Globe that we need to “talk.” From the column:
Suicide is so disturbing that most of us don’t want to think about it. It’s too scary. We want distance. It feels safer to believe that there is a fundamental difference between us and the families it happens to. So when it does happen, we don’t know how to talk about it.
After my father’s death, my friends could not have been kinder. Nobody shunned or snubbed me. A few people inadvertently said things that hurt. “Your father must have been crazy,’’ one volunteered – maybe meaning that no rational person would have done such a thing, but I couldn’t bear to feel that his death made him a pariah. And if one more person asked if I was finding closure, I would have screamed.
Of course, courtesy and sensitivity in such matters are important, and people should learn how to deal with families in grief from suicide and to not be inadvertently cruel.
But as I read the piece, I had the sense that helping people be more sensitive was not what she meant by “talk.” Was it talk just for the sake of talking? The column reminded me of a meme I often hear in the biotech debate, in which we are told that we should “monitor” developments. But that doesn’t mean anything unless it leads to concrete conclusions, decisions, or actions.
Wickersham’s conclusion did nothing to answer my questions about what, exactly, she was advocating:
As a society, we’ve gotten more candid about other painful things – alcoholism, domestic violence, depression. We need to talk about suicide, honestly and without sensationalizing. There’s always been a stigma attached to it, maybe with the idea that the stigma will act as a deterrent to someone who’s contemplating suicide. Maybe we’re afraid that talking about it is the same thing as inviting it to happen…
But I don’t think the taboo around talking about it serves anyone. If deterring suicide is possible, then understanding the terrible impact of it can only be helpful. And if it’s an act that comes out of extreme mental illness, then the idea of a deterrent is irrelevant. Again, less ignorance and a greater, more subtle understanding is called for.
Suicide is both stigmatized and romanticized. We hush it up and discuss it in thrilled whispers. I thought “Hedda Gabler’’ was dramatic and shocking and exciting when I first saw it, back in college. It never crossed my mind that I might one day have firsthand experience with suicide. Or that the reality of suicide’s impact is sad, dismal, confusing, and lonely, and it goes on for years.
I don’t think there is a taboo on talking about suicide. And people with severe mental illnesses can be deterred from killing themselves by “stigma.” So, sure, let’s talk. But let’s also reach conclusions. Otherwise, “talk” could merely act to disable our unequivocal opposition to suicide and slouch into terminal nonjudgmentalism that would lead to even greater pain. Maybe it’s me, but I am still not sure which “kind” of talk Wickersham is advocating.
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
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