Overcoming Guilt and Shame after a Suicide

As a survivor we often struggle with guilt and shame after losing a loved one to suicide.  How did I not see the signs?  Michelle joins us today to discuss how she overcame the guilt and shame of losing her only son to suicide.  Thank you Michelle for sharing your story.

Six years ago, my husband and I lost our only child to suicide. He was 21, had a long-term girlfriend who was the love of his life, and the love and support of a very close-knit family. He was young and had everything to live for, but the depression and anxiety he battled cast such a dark shadow over every good thing in his life, he could not comprehend the potential that stretched out before him. What good came his way, he felt he did not deserve. He agonized over his mistakes and “failures”.

Of all people, I should have seen and understood what was happening with him, and how serious it had become. At the time he died, I had been suffering from depression and anxiety for more than 20 years. At one point, my depression was so severe, I required hospitalization. So, how could I not see what was going on?

My guilt and shame over missing the signs of our son’s struggle have been the most difficult aspects of grief for me to face. It has taken the whole of the past six years (and a lot of effort) to come to believe that I am not personally responsible for what happened.

Yet this has not been the only source of guilt and shame that I’ve dealt with.

Getting back out “into the world” after our son’s death came with unexpected challenges. Being introduced to new people, for example, inevitably led to small-talk about family. And the dreaded question, “so do you have any children?” If I answered in the affirmative, the probing questions invariably led to one that could only be answered with, “he passed away”. It felt horrible to burden others with this, but I felt a deep stab in my chest at the thought of saying that we had no children. I felt like I would be betraying our son; that I was somehow denying his very existence. Eventually I came to accept that it is better not to burden or pain others with information they do not need to hear. I trust that our son would understand this, and that he knows what is truly in my heart.

Another unexpected source of guilt came with the passing of friends and other family members. Every funeral service brought me back to memories of the day our son died, the day of his funeral, the day we finally buried his ashes. The experience of reliving all that pain pulled me back into my own sadness. I became so consumed by renewed feelings of grief for our son that I wasn’t grieving the loss of the person whose funeral it was. And the only way in which I was relating to those most directly affected by this new loss was by dwelling in my own. I felt selfish and shallow.

It has only been through the passage of time, the diminishing frequency and intensity of these memories, that has allowed me to accept what I’ve experienced as “normal”; that is to say, a reasonable part of grief. For, as survivors, we know that grief is anything but reasonable. We know that the most innocent of circumstances can trigger a painful memory, or cause us to swell with an emotion that is otherwise uncharacteristic of us…envy, resentment, even rage.

I believe the only way that I have been able to emerge from the emotional chaos, the only way I have been able to experience healing, is by treating myself with compassion. By forgiving myself when I believed I was being selfish, ignorant, petty, or resentful, my feelings of guilt diminished. I could see myself as simply human, doing the best I could with the knowledge and tools available to me at the time.

I have since come to see that the more I was willing to observe my reactions without judging them (or automatically concluding that I am a rotten person because of them), the easier it became to extend that same courtesy to others. I find myself now reacting to confusing or unpleasant behavior from others with curiosity and compassion. I find myself wondering what struggle they might be facing that has caused them to act out in a particular way. If a person says or does something hurtful to me, I can more easily see them as simply human, dealing with pain the best they can with the knowledge and tools available to them.

This is the purpose and meaning I have discovered through this tragic loss. I hope and pray that our son can see this, that he knows this is how I am choosing to honor him. I hope he is proud of me, as I will always be of him.