what is life after suicide?

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👇🏿 ain’t got no time for that? press play for the radical radio recording ✨


life after suicide is lonely.

i have friends around, i am working, i am interacting with other humans. i am getting up every day and doing what i know, while dealing with the endless drownings of my life after suicide. ⁣

i am traumatized by my dads death: he kills himself and i find him. never in my life do i imagine this as a possibility. i am not prepared for the altered state that my traumatized physiology throws me in, nor am i prepared for the drowning of my lived experience through grief, ptsd, and depression.⁣

i try to work at life and i try hard.

no matter the conversations and connections i have with my friends i still feel utterly alone in my experience. i explain, over and over, what it is to find my dad dead, to walk through funeral arrangements, to talk about my life as i know it: a morphed parallel reality of a ‘normal life’ that goes on after my dads suicide. ⁣

i try to continue to wrap words around what i am feeling: the new underworld of a life i am thrown into and the situations i am walking through on the daily.

(hello, costco customer service lady, who steps out from under management, to search my parents purchase history and help me find the kind of dog food my dad buys for my parents dogs while i stand, forehead pressing firmly into your stainless steel countertop, releasing rivers of tears, that flow past my eyelids, to the polished concrete floor.)⁣

life after suicide is lonely.

it is lonely for me for many weeks-months-years(!) after my dads death.

wherever you are in your life after suicide story, go easy on yourself. heck, wherever you are in life period, please go easy on yourself.⁣

please.⁣

i love your lonely,⁣

xxo ~k⁣ 🙏✨

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