Suicide, Art, and Personal Myths

KEYWORDS – grief, suicide, transformation

One sunny California day in 2001 our neighborhood, a hamlet of about 800 homes bordering the American River, was having a collaborative garage sale. I was gardening in the front yard when quite unexpectedly a heavy-set, 40-something-year-old woman rode up on her bike and asked if I would mind if she put her belongings up for sale in my yard. Valerie lived on a street that didn’t get much traffic and she was hoping to make some sales.

I’ve heard it said that people tell you their truth within the first fifteen minutes of knowing them. Pretty soon it was discovered that we both had experienced the horror and grief that comes when someone you’ve dearly loved suicides. Despite the many ways you’ve tried to help, commiserated with, understood, and shared the pain of a loved one, they had lost all hope. They just couldn’t find any other solution to their grief than to end their lives. They left unresolved the promise of their lost potential. They left unanswered queries about whatever could have been lingering inside. Those left behind are given a dissonant note, an incomplete verse, and a puzzle never to be resolved.

I quickly learned that Valerie’s mother had taken her own life in 1999. That was the same year that my brother, Jaycee, shot himself in the heart after years of disappointments, bad decisions, letdowns, addictions, and self-loathing. Valerie’s mother had taken her own life on Valerie’s birthday. “Why did she do that?” Valerie asked. “I don’t know,” I responded. “But maybe so you’d remember her on your birthday.”

I don’t believe it really matters why, when, or how, although that’s what people often wonder. The incompleteness, the hole inside those who are left, now becomes a link in a chain of grief, a chain that now connects those who loved the departed.

Over the next ten years I learned a lot more about Valerie. Indeed, she had some challenges. Valerie had diagnoses of attention deficit disorder (ADD), obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), and bipolar disorder, so her friendship required considerable patience. There are two major type of bipolar disorder and Valerie’s diagnosis was for the second type, which is characterized by manic episodes as well as episodes of major depression.

Valerie had an “in-your-face” personality. She was loud and blatant, a self-proclaimed “energy suck.” But I like people who are honest and I appreciated many facets of her personality. Despite her shortcomings (and we all have them), Valerie was funny, and we laughed a lot. She was a caring friend, was patient and smart, and put a lot of herself on the line to help others. Most of all, Valerie was present, especially when we would ride bikes early in the morning. Cycling was one of the ways she kept her “energies” in check. Riding her bicycle was Valerie’s joy, and the one activity that nourished her and distracted her from her obsessions, abandonment, and pain as she rode merrily through Nature.

Valerie “did it her way,” the best way – at least for her. However, Valerie would sit patiently and listen attentively as you described your way. This empathy was Valerie’s gift. My life is crazy, chaotic, and constantly in transition. Valerie carefully created her world while I merely reacted to mine. Valerie did a great job at whatever her task at hand might have been, even though completing that task might take hours! How exhausting that must have been for her! I think back on Valerie’s day-to-day life. That woman would wash her rocks! On the street! In her garden! It must have been exhausting!

Valerie would say, “I’m caught in a loop!” She would follow an idea to the ultimate degree. Once, I encouraged Valerie to paint one wall in her house, an activity that ultimately led to her remodeling the whole house. Valerie’s home never completely fell back together — and it hadn’t needed to be remodeled in the first place.

Valerie was a child of the 1950s and 1960s. Her mother, who grew up during the Great Depression of the 1930s, was a bartender who charmed her customers by giving them the impression that she was — or at least had been — quite promiscuous. Valerie had two older half-brothers. Her verbally abusive father had abandoned her. She shared that he had created another family and lived right down the street from her in a house she had to pass as she walked to school. Sometimes Valerie’s father would be out in the front yard watering the lawn and would act as if he didn’t know her.

Although Valerie’s mother often lavished attention on her, sometimes dressing her up like a little doll, in contrast she could also be neglectful. For example, she would leave Valerie with her latest boyfriend or even with total strangers, unexpectedly and at length. This left Valerie feeling vulnerable, and this is why her “things,” her personal effects, were so important because they would not abandon her. The only sense of control Valerie had was that over her own personal belongings, especially those that she carried with her. Just before Valerie suicided, she had disassembled her house and was selling many of her precious “things.”

Just a few weeks before Valerie’s death, she requested, “Keep an eye on me. I’m not doing well. They’re calling me from the other side.” Later I discovered that Valerie’s grandmother had attempted suicide as well. There had been three generations of women with suicidal tendencies. One day Valerie dropped by my house, and I could see how distressed she was. I invited her in and asked her to be at home. I told her that she could rest on the couch if she felt tired. Then I went to the computer to see if I could find some help for her and discovered a suicide hotline. Valerie did try to employ some local resources, but the cost associated with any kind of help was more than she could manage. No matter how we both tried to resolve her pain, it just wouldn’t happen. We couldn’t find an opening that would provide a small bit of hope.

To make matters worse, Valerie had sought out and found her neglectful father, who was now up in years. He hadn’t changed his ways and was still using language that diminished Valerie even as she tried to establish some sort of relationship with him. Valerie had begun to do household chores for him, but her help was not appreciated. She expressed how much his attitude was hurting her, and so I suggested that she not see him anymore.

Valerie had been married, but her venomous frustration and anger had pushed her husband away. It was as if she would constantly test him. “Will you love me even if I yell and scream at you? If I act in ways that don’t inspire intimacy, will you still love me? If I’m loud and obnoxious and overbearing, will you stick with me or run away?” To me, these tests seemed like self-fulfilling prophecies. As the lyrics of an old Country and Western song proclaimed, “If you don’t leave me honey, I’ll find somebody who will.”

Sometimes Valerie reminded me of my brother. He would often act out, causing consideration: “If I drink, and if I’m angry and hateful, will you still love me? Will you still care? What if I do loathsome things? What if I commit acts that aren’t acceptable in society, that are out of place in a world based on mutual agreements? What then?” Both Valerie and my brother pushed the boundaries of ordinary social relationships to the breaking point. And when they broke, both were even more disappointed when friends called it a day.

Over time, Valerie ended up living by herself. Having some self-respect and not wanting to be a burden on anyone, she took responsibility for her own welfare and started living off credit cards. Valerie had determined that when she was $25,000 in debt, she would end her life. It was ironic that her home was paid for, and she could have sold it and lived off the equity for quite some time. She could have moved into smaller quarters to create a whole new reality for herself. In Arthur Miller’s play Death of a Salesman, Willie Loman (the salesman) suicides just after his wife made the last mortgage payment on their house. But all too often, suicide ignores common sense and reason.

The holiday season was an acute source of pain and isolation for Valerie. I discovered that she actually had quite a few extended family members, even though she had often told me that she had no relatives to visit when the holidays came around and it was time for celebrations. I thought, “Valerie, you just didn’t like your family! Why can’t you be honest?” But then I speculated that perhaps family members knew about her abuse when she was little, and failed to protect her.

On Wednesday, October 5, 2010, my husband and I were leaving for a birthday trip to Nashville, so I called Valerie to let her know I’d be gone for a few days. I told her that when I returned home the following Monday, I hoped we could spend some time together and apologized for my lack of presence over the last few weeks. Valerie sounded as if she was in an upbeat mood, so I didn’t ask her how she was doing. The call ended with her expressing in a sing-song voice “Weeell . . . haaappy birthdaaay! I love you sooooo much.” “I love you too,” I replied.

My husband and I went to the famous Bluebird Café when we arrived in Nashville, and the next morning we had some free time. Being spontaneous and curious, we decided to telephone Kathy, an “intuitive healer,” to address a longstanding health condition, and to see if we could obtain some insights. Kathy told us that she saw us surrounded by profound grief. We replied, “That doesn’t sound like us at all. We don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kathy was certain, “Yes! I see profound grief.” So, we ended the call at an impasse, without understanding or agreement. Kathy’s suggestion was not meaningful to us on any level.

The following morning, however, I awoke early, in my darkened hotel room, and casually checked my email and discovered a friend’s message that would change my life forever. “I’m so sorry to say that Valerie couldn’t do it any longer and she has passed. She overdosed, most likely Wednesday night. I called the sheriff last night around 10:30pm after trying to reach Valerie for the last two days,telling them I was concerned. Once the sheriffs arrived, I gave them her key. A few minutes later they came out and said yes, she had passed. It seemed to have been well planned and well organized. One of the sheriffs told me that she had apparently overdosed and just went to sleep.”

So, there was the profound grief that Kathy had intuited. My husband and I were incredulous, and far from home. Valerie had taken her life the night before my birthday. So I would remember her?

Since her death, Valerie has been with me in profound, meaningful, and life changing ways. What I now have to share you may find unbelievable, but it is true. Every word is true.

I called Kathy, the intuitive, and told her what we had found out. Kathy replied, “Oh, that’s probably why you called me in the first place. I often help people transition who have met an untimely death. I’ll talk to your friend and will get back to you.” I thought, “Well, whatever that means!” without comprehension of the import of her words.

My husband and I returned home two days later to the new reality in our neighborhood. The grief was so palpable that I kept wrestling to busy my mind and avoid the sadness altogether. In an attempt to set my grief aside and move through the day, I plugged in my desktop computer, that had been serviced while I’d been gone. A command popped up to “enter a new password.” I thought that this was strange because I have had the same password ever since I’d gotten my first computer. And that was twenty years ago! Why would I be asked for a new password?

I assigned the word “bluebird.” Then the computer asked for an icon, and I assigned a butterfly.

My husband arrived to help me, and I told him about the change the computer had required. He asked for the new password. “Bluebird,” I replied. “Bluebird?” he exclaimed, “Where did that come from?” “I don’t know,” I said, “I guess because I’m blue,” and also by association, because we had just been to the Bluebird Cafe.

A few days later the phone rang. It was Kathy, the intuitive, so I took the phone into my husband’s office and put the call on speaker so we could both hear her. Kathy said, “Thank you for asking me to talk with your friend. It was quite a unique experience for me. She wants you to know that she’s happy. Your friend said:

“Be free of worry.

Be free of anger.

Be free of resentment.

And be free of guilt.

Life doesn’t have to be hard. Choose your way.

Know that you are loved and forever and always will be.”

Kathy continued, ”And she has a word for you.” “What’s the word?” I asked. “The word is BLUEBIRD. And then she turned into a BUTTERFLY and flew into the light.”

My husband and I were gobsmacked! Our mouths were hanging open. What had just happened? And how did it happen? How, across time and space, death itself, did my computer enter into the consciousness of Valerie, Kathy, and myself? All three of us seemed to have been connected by those two words, and my husband was a witness. I explained to Kathy that I had recently assigned the word “Bluebird” as a password because I was blue. She explained, “No. She wants you to know that the bluebird represents the Bluebird of Happiness. She wants you to remember to be happy! “

This experience opened the door to what I would call an odyssey, and has influenced and changed my life, and countless others, in innumerable and astounding ways.

In retrospect, Valerie and my brother made choices that often brought undesirable outcomes and more unhappiness. But we must be guardians of our thoughts and actions. We have been given free will to the point of even choosing to end the most precious gift, that of life itself.

In the fall of 2011, I visited Esalen Institute in Big Sur, California with another friend, Jane Rivar, and together we wrote a song titled “Carry Me,” inspired by Valerie’s life and those who don’t have an easy path. We wanted to convey a message of hope and gratitude when we treat each other with care, love, and compassion. “Carry Me” placed Second Place in The International Song of Peace Contest in Ireland in 2012.

Link to “Carry Me” https://www.jeanfox.tv/

Takeaway Points

• People who take their own lives rarely consider the effects their suicide will have on friends and family members.
• Fully experiencing the pain that follows a loved one’s death may lead to positive transformations on the part of the survivors.

Here is another account I received, this one from Georgena Eggleston, who was devastated when her son took his life. But she transformed her mourning into a new chapter in her own life, and I have distilled her journey and transformation in the following account.

Reed ran down a school hallway, shouting to some of his teammates, “I will see you on the basketball court next year.” Facing the fierce Nebraska winds, Reed continued running the mile to his home. On his arrival, he entered the garage and pulled his grandfather’s rifle from its place in the corner. He gathered shotgun shells from a nearby drawer, placed them in the rifle, put the barrel in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. His uncle had died the same way several years earlier.

Although not Jewish themselves, in the spirit of the Jewish tradition Reed’s family “sat shiva” for several days, suspending their usual activities, allowing friends to assist them. One month after the funeral, Georgena called her husband to witness a colorful sunset, a rarity in this cold Nebraska winter. The couple watched, transfixed, as the pink clouds seemed to form the letters R, E, E, D. Georgena felt relieved, “Surely Reed’s in heaven.” Edward added, “Yes, and God’s letting him sign his artwork!”

Georgena began to take notes on what she experienced, the grief that she felt in her body, the interactions with her surviving son, and the responses of others in the community. One student wrote about her reaction after reading a tribute that Georgena had written for the town’s newspaper: “One night . . . my parents forbade me to see the boy I had spent every day with for a long time. Everything had been leading up to this, and I decided I wanted it all to stop. Then I heard about Reed. This showed me that people care and will help if I only ask. What you wrote in the paper really meant a lot to me. ‘No burden is so heavy that it can’t be lifted by talking to someone.’ In a sense, Reed saved my life. I just wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart” (Eggleston, 2015). Two other teenagers wrote similar letters.

Georgena’s first set of lessons included some that were general and some that were specific.

• Accept others’ help and receive from them.
• Consider requesting restaurant gift cards when people ask for help.
• Ask another person to be a listening witness during grief’s grip.

Over the next few months, Georgena replayed the last few hours of her son’s life, wracked by guilt, spinning scenarios of how a different course of action could have saved her son’s life. In retrospect, it seemed as if his suicide had been a sudden impulse, one that could have been avoided had she behaved differently. Finally, she realized that she had to give her surviving son more of her focus, and she listed another set of lessons.

• Recognize the grief and the thoughts that accompany it.
• Release the grief with tears and other appropriate actions.
• Replace the grief with a new focus.

In addition to focusing on her family, Georgena came to the realization that, only under ordinary conditions, people are responsible for their own lives. Reed had never learned self-compassion, had never accepted himself unconditionally. Georgena resolved not to make the same mistake. A psychiatrist advised her to keep a journal of her dreams, a suggestion that proved to be very helpful.

One dream in particular stood out. In this dream, several friends and family members were seated on couches while participating in a ritual. Seeing one vacant space, Georgena took it and turned to the person on her left for a handshake that was part of the ritual. That person was Reed! Georgena considered this an “after-death communication.” In any event, she felt that the dream brought her back to “wholeness.”

“Raw grief” is the state when a survivor is overcome by anguished feelings and thoughts following a loved one’s suicide. Shock, disbelief, anger, confusion, and sadness send the survivor to the depths of despair.

“Fragile grief” takes over when the survivor begins to function once more. Sometimes survivors barely hold themselves together, and can remain in fragile grief for years, or even for the rest of their lives.

“Gentle grief” does not deny the survivor’s grief, but allows life to continue. Grief is now like the geyser “Old Faithful.” It can erupt in a moment. Or it may emerge like a gentle deer from a clearing, and then vanish into the woods.

During the celebration of what would have been Reed’s 16th birthday, friends were invited to his room to collect a piece of clothing or a work of art as a memento. Later his room would be turned into her husband’s office. Following a “happy birthday” songfest at the cemetery, Georgena felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder.

Soon after, while attending a pain seminar, Georgena told her partner that it felt as if a saber-toothed tiger had gripped her shoulder. Her partner gently cupped her hands around Georgena’s left shoulder. Then her partner repeated, “Pain like a saber-toothed tiger.” As her partner ran her hand down Georgena’s left arm, immediately the pain disappeared. Georgena understood the concept of “embodied pain,” and she enrolled in Ilana Rubenfeld’s Rubenfeld Synergy Method® training” classes (Rubenfeld, 2001).

This 12-week training changed Georgena’s life and set her on another journey, that of a Rubenfeld Synergist. She knew she would be able to move through her “fragile grief” phase state to a “gentle grief” state. Moving through “fragile grief” was a process that lasted for several years. In the meantime, she would be able to inspire others with the tools she had mastered.

Georgena and her husband returned to their work running a rehabilitation agency that served several nursing homes and rural hospitals. They continued that work until the market shifted, virtually winding down the business. But they also began to celebrate traditional holidays, remembering the family motto, “Every problem has a manageable solution” (what some of my colleagues and I have called a positive “personal myth”). Another set of questions emerged:

• What traditions would they keep?
• What traditions would be put “on hold”?
• What new traditions, that would evoke fun and laughter, would evolve?
• What did they want to feel and experience from these celebrations?
• They are able to make choices regarding traditions, feelings, and experiences.

Georgena was one of those with a “mean mind:” A critical, perfectionistic mind that relentlessly sets the bar so high that nothing is ever good enough. The “list” is never done. The real world falls short of what one imagines.

Reed had been so critical of himself in the end. He was much harder on himself than anyone else. Four months after his death, Georgena became aware that Reed had never failed publicly. She knew that his suspension from school and being banished from the basketball team were gateways to his growth.

Unfortunately, Reed did not see his failure as a step toward growth. For the first time in his life he had “lost face.” Instead of asking for help, he took himself out of the game of life permanently and literally lost face. Georgena became aware that “being too hard on yourself can kill ya.” She knew those around her could not have her die. She knew that the only way through grief was to go in: into grief — to uncover her false beliefs — and into her body.

The Rubenfeld Synergy Method ® allowed Georgena to move out of her constantly confused, critical mind and access the guidance of her body. She would simply lie on the table and the Synergist asked, “Where are you connecting to the table?” Georgena began to notice one hip or shoulder felt “up in the air.” This was the perfect metaphor for her life.

At times her left shoulder, later dubbed her “Grief Shoulder,” would burst into a flame of pain the minute it contacted the table. With the Synergist’s hands creating a protective cup of listening touch, Georgena was able to relate to the pain in her shoulder. She began to experience that recognizing, and then relating the aches, pains, and sensations, would consistently result in releasing them.

Sometimes she would see images that she could feel in her body. Once a rock wall split in two, releasing the shoulder pain that then became a beautiful, soothing waterfall. She felt revitalized. Her body, mind, emotions, and spirit were regenerated in real time.

Georgena discovered her own system of moving through grief:

• Recognize, relate to, and release grief to experience revitalization and regeneration.

After a while, Georgena learned to show up for a Synergy session and let go without “trying to figure things out.” She became willing, open, and curious. She discovered, allowed, accepted, and received the gifts of this powerful body-mind process. Her frontal lobe quieted, and her limbic brain became activated. As her awareness and intuition increased, she began to access what Jung calls the Collective Unconscious.

Georgena’s personal Synergy session with Ilana revealed a palpable anchor in Georgena’s body. As Ilana cupped her hands around Georgena’s right knee, asking, “What are you noticing?” Clouds filled the chalkboard of Georgena’s mind. Her breathing changed.

Ilana, guided by this cue, simply stated “Tell me more.” Georgena went on to describe the clouds parting and a gorgeous purple mountain with a granite base emerged. She felt she was on solid ground for the first time in 10 months.

Where had this empowering image come from? Arising from the Synergy table, Georgena’s life was anchored in the phrase “I am beautiful.” Four years later, after moving from Nebraska to Oregon, she recognized this sacred image as Mt. Hood.

Georgena now shares these benefits of the Rubenfeld Synergy Method ®with new clients:

• Even when your mind lies and jerks you around, the body tells the Truth.
• The sensations, aches, and pains in your body are a call to listen and learn from the metaphors in your body. Who or What is that pain in your neck?
• Experience the images, colors, sounds and messages as guidance to move from chaos to harmony.
• You can’t fail. You can’t make things up. You are accessing The Infinite that is always there to support you.
• Touch is a powerful means of recognizing, relating to, and releasing emotions.
• Shift happens in the present moment, so you are no longer stuck in this pain and confusion.
• This Method is the express train from feeling broken open to your personal breakthrough.
• Humor gives us psychological air. Just like a dolphin we come up to the surface and then dive deep back into our emotions.

The transition from Fragile Grief to Gentle Grief may take some time. Georgena shared a Synergy session that occurred four years after her son’s death. Her partner for the exercise, Melissa, cupped her hands around Georgena’s head and asked her what she was experiencing. “Tingly energy,” she answered, “and it’s pulsing up and down the length of my left leg. I am surprised.” Then, an image fluttered through her mind. It was a surprise birthday party her husband had orchestrated for her thirty-ninth birthday, inviting her closest female friends. Suddenly, the faces of Georgena’s friends faded, and she saw Reed being wheeled out of the garage, his face covered by a white cloth shrouding the horror beneath it. Her body experienced a violent shock. She sobbed, “I am experiencing the joyous surprise of Edward’s woman-only birthday bash and the unbelievable shocking surprise of Reed’s death.”

Melissa slipped her right hand under Georgena’s hip and asked for more associations to the grief in her left leg. “This grief is a surprise. I have been releasing this grief for four years. Where is all this sorrow coming from?” Melissa asked her to stay with the energy. “I feel cold like death. I’m freezing, and Antarctic snow stretches as far as I can see. I am the only person in this barren place.” But when she felt Melissa’s touch, Georgena realized that she was not alone, and she felt warmer.

Georgena asked where the grief came from and Melissa answered, “It was held in your body, Georgena. Its release was triggered by the polarities of the word ‘surprise.’ What are you experiencing in your body now?” Georgena took a deep breath and responded, “My right hip wants to speak.”

In another, related, Synergy session, Georgena saw in her mind’s eye a convex sky lit up by numerous stars. But now the sky was concave. Melissa observed, “You are being gifted by all you see.” Georgena surrendered to this scene, relating how her body opened to “this profound spiritual reprogramming.”

Later Georgena realized that the sky above represented her readers, and the stars below represented her audience. None of them wanted to be stuck in Fragile Grief. Instead, they wanted to “intentionally mourn, selecting self-care strategies to move through grief in the healthiest possible process.”

Today, Georgena is able to use everything she’s learned as a Rubenfeld Synergist in her career as a Trauma Specialist and Grief Guide. She’s learned how to support her clients with touch, with what Ilana Rubenfeld called the “listening hand.” Her clients are endowed with a sense of safety and security. They can release the emotions and the old thoughts that accompanied them, thus creating new patterns of behavior. These new beliefs and behaviors emphasize self-care, avoiding a compulsion for care-giving.

Georgena describes what the psychotherapist Albert Ellis would call “irrational beliefs” as “harmful personal myths” such as:

• My heart will always have this wound. I will never be happy again.
• My grief and mourning should focus on my departed loved one because self-care is selfish.
• I must grieve alone. Nobody can possibly understand the pain I am going through.
• If I stop longing for my loved ones, it will mean that I dishonor them.

Georgena has developed a set of activities that can replace those irrational, dysfunctional, and harmful myths with rational beliefs and positive personal myths.

For example, she might have her clients ask, “What is the most kind and loving action I can do for myself?” Examples include things like preparing a cup of tea, taking a walk in Nature, breathing and stretching for a few minutes, playing with a child, asking someone for help with a challenging task, reading an interesting book, watching cloud formations, sunrises and sunsets, or expressing gratitude for whatever is positive and uplifting.

• Grief lives in the body as well as in the mind.
• Mindful Grieving and Intentional Mourning are two procedures that can help survivors move beyond their grief to a healthier mode of living.

People who take their own lives rarely consider the effect their death will have on others, and if they do consider it, that concern is not strong enough to abort their suicide attempt. As a member of the Association for the Study of Suicidality, and as the co-author of Understanding Suicide’s Allure, I am well aware of the complexity of the issue and the valiant efforts being made to develop means of prevention. Art and myth, especially personal myths, can be invaluable assets in helping survivors cope with the loss of a loved one, and may even evoke a positive transformation on the part of the survivors.