Shame, Shame I Know Your Name (#3 'Emotional' series)

Fair warning, I need to be brutally forthcoming today. Please read or don’t read as necessary. 

I’m not ashamed to admit that this post has been a victim of procrastination. Today is the two year anniversary of losing my brother to suicide. I am not ashamed of that either. Shame is, by definition, a painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior. Shame is, in my opinion, why my brother got so wrapped up in and twisted by his thoughts that he lost sight of everything and everyone positive in his existence. Overcome by shame, he was unable to focus on all of the reasons he needed to stay. There is no logic in his death, though he must have logically felt he had no other options.

Shame is tied to Guilt (the wasted emotion of a previous post). Shame is felt for things we do that we wish we could retrieve. When we shame ourselves or try to use it against others, it is a controlling device, an attempt to prevent future behaviors that cause embarrassment. That is all shame should be allowed to be, a way to better our future behaviors. It should not be the proverbial snowball rolling downhill while gathering force enough to destroy.

After my brother died, I learned some things. NONE of them worth dying over, but I am/was/can apply rational thinking. Suicide has long been associated with shame, something I always address when speaking to groups. My brother, a prominent figure in my survive and thrive post-Robbie's suicide, knew what our family went through, how each day can be a struggle, even years later. My brother always pushed himself to be his best, demanded it (too much and in too many ways quite honestly) of others, and when confronted with the possibility of his own shamefulness reasoned his way to his final moment. 

I am not ashamed of the losses I have had to face and move through. I am not ashamed of my son, nor am I ashamed of my brother. I am saddened in ways I fight to manage each and every day. I am angry that my days no longer include my son and brother sitting in my living room, that their deaths have caused jagged chasms in my family, and that my brother left us knowing what Robbie's death caused in its aftermath. However, I am not ashamed. 

Talking about suicide, about guilt, about shame is important. Shedding light on these subjects takes away their power. In S. Ransome's memoir, Silenced No More, she states that 'daylight is shame's kryptonite.' So here I am, throwing light upon these gut wrenching topics. In the end, we have no ability to control the choices of others; but, we have the ability to control our reactions. 

Because of my experiences, I speak and write from the heart about these topics. I speak the word suicide to open the door for others who may be fighting the shame of contemplation. I open the shutters and blinds and invite the daylight to shine upon what others hush and whisper about in the darkness and behind closed doors.

Every single person has done things they wish they could take back, erase, go back in time and choose to do differently. When our choices bring shame to our doors, acknowledge it, but then let it go. Don't give shame more power than that. Shake it off. Stand up. Reach out. Tomorrow is another day, and someone is looking forward to your presence in their tomorrow.