I swear this isn't morbid

Each month, I have the opportunity to share my thoughts in this column, and this time, I decided to focus on National Suicide Prevention Month, which is observed every September.

After writing last month’s column, “We’re all gonna die,” I hesitated to approach another heavy topic. But the truth is, suicide awareness is not about morbidity—it’s about compassion, empathy, and hope. I see this as an opportunity to highlight just how much kindness and support we are capable of offering one another.

The Centers for Disease Control (CDC) reports that people living in rural areas with lower incomes are at a higher risk of suicide than others. This describes a lot of folks in our area. Everyone knows someone who struggles just to stay alive, but most of us don’t talk about it much, and that’s a problem — keeping the dark in the dark. I am a suicide survivor myself — having attempted to take my own life when I was twelve years old. When I was 24, my 27 year old brother took his own life.

This past Wednesday, I attended an event at the fire station. After the annual 9/11 ceremony honoring fallen firefighters and first responders, there was another event — local civic organizations—Kiwanis, Lions Club, and Rotary—came together to host a special lunch for first responders there in the station’s bay.

Folks who dedicate their time to keeping their community safe — the people who show up when your sister is in a car wreck or your neighbor has a heart attack, first responders of all kinds, were shown appreciation by these clubs (whose missions also include looking after their communities through their service). What an awesome event, what an awesome example of kindness and consideration for others! It was great to see.

So what does suicide prevention have to do with the 9/11 lunch? It’s about acknowledging the emotional burdens we all carry. First responders are folks who are on the scene before it’s “cleaned up,” — folks who are tasked with carrying a lot of emotional burdens even after their shifts end. What they do is not just about putting their lives on the line, it’s also a willingness to face down the hardest parts of humanity and still fight to retain hope.

Our community may be presented as thriving in glossy publicity materials—economic reports are looking up, our schools are doing well—but many here are struggling. Some young people in our community have recently taken their own lives, drug addiction persists, and we live in a mental healthcare desert. While some are indeed thriving, others in our communities are fighting quiet battles—financially, emotionally, mentally.

Sometimes it takes a lot for me to decompress after reading too much of this information in a given week; making decisions about what to share with our readers and what to keep to myself. We can’t logistically publish every thing that happens in this paper anyway — the good things and the bad things. Luckily, I have an awesome bunch of people in my life who love me and let me know it every day, so my outlook stays pretty positive even when a lot of sad news crosses my desk.

Acknowledge the emotional burdens those around you carry. Hug your friends, tell them you love them, show up for them. Suicide prevention isn’t a solo mission; it’s a collective effort. Commit to supporting one another, showing up with empathy, and reminding each other that no one has to carry their burdens alone.

Buy someone lunch, let them know you appreciate them and see how much work they do, even in tough times when it’s a lot of work just getting out of bed to face the day.

Know that you have the support of your community yourself as well — whether that be your family, your religious community, your civic club, your LGBTQ community, the gang you play pickleball with, your book club, or whatever. Wherever it is you find camaraderie, there is support for you and there is someone who needs your support in return.

Suicide prevention doesn’t happen on an individual level; it’s a community effort. We can all honor each other every day, not just in September.