One way I stay alive: When I don’t know a reason to live till spring, I plant bulbs.
Every September and November, we mark Suicide Loss Survivor Days in the US, which are good times to learn from all three kinds of people who live beyond suicide.
Most of the people we call “suicide survivors” are people who lost loved ones to suicide deaths. These are the people who will be gathering this weekend. A suicide death often leaves relatives and friends not just grief-stricken but guilt-plagued. They fear they should have recognized signs and prevented the death. After my friend “Katie” hung herself, my other roommate and I weren’t even able to talk about her for maybe a decade. It was just too hard.
A second kind of “suicide survivor” is the person who manages to live beyond a suicide attempt. Kevin Hines, who survived his jump off the Golden Gate Bridge in the year 2000, is one of the better known of these. He’s focused his life since then on encouraging others to #BeHereTomorrow.
Add a Third Kind of Suicide Survivor to the Rally
A third kind of “suicide survivor” doesn’t quite fit the mix, yet has reason to be counted in this difficult company. The third kind of survivor are people who survive chronic suicidal thinking. We are the people who survive our suicidal thoughts many times a year, many times a week … some of us many times a day. And still we choose to keep moving forward. We “choose life,” in the words of the Bible.
When you have social anxiety, the church coffee hour room full of people can be overwhelming. Here’s the social cue reading skill you need to successfully connect and chat!
You go to coffee hour because they say it’s a place to get to know other people at church. What going to coffee hour has taught your socially anxious self is that everyone is very busy talking to someone else, and when you try to join the conversations you feel ever so subtly (or not so subtly) frozen out. It doesn’t seem to matter whether you try to join an animated group that seems to be having fun or a group where someone is looking around the room as if hoping to escape. You keep picking wrong.
So you start just connecting along the fringes of the room. You get to know all the other socially anxious wallflowers and misfits. And you ask yourself: Are these really the only people at church God intends for you to know?
I learned from a business networking expert that it’s easy to get into the thick of things when you know how to find an entry point. And the trick is: look at the feet.
Sounds crazy, right? But this is a totally unconscious and entirely consistent social cue you can rely on. Here’s how it works.
When a group of chatting people is “closed” to newcomers, they signal this not by upper body angles or where their eyes face, but by where their feet face. All the feet in a “closed” group face to the center of the group.
In a group that is open to newcomers, at least one foot points away from the group center. You can join the group where the foot is pointing outward.
Seems crazy, right? You would think that the outward pointing foot just means that someone is used to standing that way, or they’re shifting weight off one foot, or something really simple. But no: This is a real, although entirely unconscious, social cue that they’re open to having you join the group.
Many people have picked up these cues over their lifetimes without even knowing that they were learning them. Folks with social anxiety are less likely to have learned these cues, so we bumble around awkwardly in social settings, which makes us even more anxious.
For me, this one trick almost entirely erased my anxiety about interacting in groups. It hasn’t erased my introvert’s aversion to spending too much time with groups of people, but it makes my group encounters easier and more pleasant.
In New England, we’re not so big on going out for coffee, but we really show up when you need something. That’s what we call community, and how we show each other that we belong.
A simple egg salad sandwich meant a lot when I couldn’t stand up to fix a meal! Image by Cindy from Pixabay
Yesterday was the third day of the pain in my left leg had steadily increased. By the time my doctor’s appointment rolled around, the pain had reached the point where I couldn’t walk unsupported, and tears came to my eyes even if I tried to walk leaning on someone. To get to the doctor’s office from my car, I had to snag another patient to bring me a wheelchair.
The doc ordered a bunch of tests, and one of her team drove my chair down to the lab. Then, after the blood draw, one of the lab techs rolled me across the parking lot to my car.
“Are you driving yourself home?” he asked with concern.
“Yup,” I said. “It’s my left leg. I don’t need it to drive.”
Gritty and Self-Sufficient Meets Unsparing Pain
That’s a New Englander speaking. Gritty. Self-sufficient. Even pain that made me cry wasn’t enough for me to need help.
Except when I pulled into my parking spot at home and realized I’d have to walk 40 feet unsupported to get into my house.
No way.
Then I spied my neighbor’s teenager. “Abby, can you come give me a hand?”
The girl stopped only long enough to tie the family’s enthusiastic goldendoodle to a piece of patio furniture. She got me to my door and I immediately collapsed into the closest chair and started typing into the neighborhood’s Facebook page:
“Anyone have a rollator/crutches to loan? I can’t put weight on one leg … MD still trying to figure out what’s up.”
Within a half hour, I had a rollator. Another 30 minutes, a pair of crutches. Someone brought supper. Someone brought groceries. Someone offered to plant the daylilies I had bought for the neighborhood’s landscaping. Somebody brought a can of vodka selzer (which works better than aspirin, just saying!).
Belonging, New England style
This is community, New England style. And this is how you know you belong in a New England community.
Of those helpers, only half are people I know well enough to have ever shared a meal. Only two are people I’ve ever gone somewhere with. But this is New England. And if we’ve seen you at the mailbox (or out walking or planting flowers), we know you well enough to help out.
I feel safe and secure knowing that the people around me have my back (or bum leg, as the case may be). And the security and safety we gain from belonging in community is part of the foundation for good mental health.
Who would you bring a meal to when they’re sick? Who would bring a meal to you?
I hope you’re as heartened as I was to discover the depth of community that has wrapped itself around my life.
Authenticity is the highest life value by far for GenZ, according to a recent study. But when 92% of folks aged 9-24 say it’s very important or extremely important to be authentic and true to yourself,what do you mean? Tell me what I’ve gotten right and what I’m missing.
Here’s my authentic idea of what a grandma looks like. I got this image years ago from a stock service that no longer exists.Authentic me is in the sidebar.
Authenticity: It’s OK to be who you are.
If you’re a boy who would rather go to the ballet than the ballpark, you want people to value you, and if you’re a girl who’s better with a saw than a spatula, you want people to value you, too. As someone who was one of the “weird kids” growing up, I appreciate the desire to follow your own interests and take your own path. If you’re a nerdy book type like I was, you want that to be OK. If you’re a cheerleader social type, you want that to be OK. Same for fashionistias, footballers, and super-focused people like my grandniece, who knew when she was 9 that she wanted to be a dog sled musher. It needs to be OK to be who you are.
Authenticity: It’s OK to be overwhelmed.
Broadly overgeneralizing here, but part of being young(er) is experiencing everything in very big ways. So a trip to the amusement park may honestly be “The best day ever!!!” And a friend’s rudeness may feel so cruel tp a child that she will honestly cry out, “I just want to DIE!” But the authentic truth is that feeling great might be fleeting, and feeling like you want to die might just be feeling temporarily overwhelmed. It’s OK.
Authenticity: It’s OK to Be ‘Too Much.’
Some of us really are “too much” for some other people. For any number of reasons, they don’t have the bandwidth now (maybe ever) to enjoy our flights of fancy, our rapid-fire puns, our dream castles of all the projects we might do someday. It’s OK to be too much for some people and just hang with the ones who can enjoy you.
Authenticity: It’s OK that you’re still in process.
OK, I’m going to pull out the old lady card here and say: If you’re in Gen Z, you’re practically children. Some of you still are children. You’re not supposed to have it all under control yet. It’s our job as grownups to keep things under control, and to teach you how to live in the world so it’s (relatively) under control. Your process and progress are OK.
Authenticity: It’s OK to not be OK.
In the 21st century, we mostly say we have a “mental illness” when we don’t feel OK. We might say we “have depression” or “have anxiety.” And maybe you do. But it also might just be that right now there’s so much tough stuff going on in your life that you don’t feel OK. You might want to retreat from some responsibilities for a while. You might blow up at someone. (Pro tip: Apologies are also part of living authentically.) It’s OK that you’re not OK.
It’s OK that you’re not OK. And apologies are a part of authentic living .
Authenticity can’t live where it’s not welcome, of course. So since we both value it, how can you and I welcome authenticity in our own lives and those around us?
Treat everyone with authentic respect and kindness.
This can feel a bit complicated. If I authentically find your ideas (or your politics or your way of life) abhorrent, how can I authentically treat you with respect? The simplest explanation is that even the person I find authentically abhorrent is still a person. God values every person, because God created every person for a unique role in this life. So it’s my job to value every person the same way God does. I can even continue to be nice to someone who calls me “two-faced” when she realizes we disagree about something.
Let people see what authentic growth could be.
If you’re on the older edge of Gen Z, you’re in a position to let some of the younger members observe authentic growth. How have you grown in your ability to handle difficulties? To encourage and support your friends? Maybe for you, it was growth just to make friends. When you let others see your authentic process of growing, you give them hope in their own ability to grow. You’ll give them a reason to turn to you for help. You’ll even find some folks my age who will learn from you.
When people see your authentic growth, it gives them hope that they can grow.
Life happens at its own pace. You’re not going to get an authentic apple off a tree before the tree has had enough time to grow one. And I’ve yet to meet an artificial apple that’s worth eating. People need time and space to discover their most authentic selves. It takes skill to recognize an apple tree before there’s fruit. If you’re not sure what’s growing in your own life or someone else’s, it’s OK to just keep watching. (Of course, if the tree whacks you like the apple tree in the Wizard of Oz, that’s a different matter. Watch your six and make a wise choice.)
You’re not going to get an authentic apple out of season.
Bring your individual authenticity where it’s needed.
None of us is authentically everything that we need to be. But each of us is authentically someone that is essential to our world, our communities, and our families. Part of what helps refine our knowledge of our authentic self is when we discover what value we’re bringing to the groups we’re part of. If people rely on you to keep the project on track, to create the new ideas, to design the visuals or to tell the stories, those are all hints that might point you toward the gifts you authentically bring to this world.
None of us is authentically everything. But each of us is authentically essential.
A fully authentic aside: I’m not anyone’s grandmother, since my husband and I never had kids. But I’m old. I’m happy to be claimed as grandmother by almost anyone. And like many people’s grandmothers, I talk too much! So talk back already! I’d love to learn from you!
My New England home is close to an old quarry, and I often discover awe when I walk among the thickets of brush and wild flowers that grow there. These walks open me to a sense of belonging in a larger world than my little at-home office. It reminds me that God has so valued small things that they are remarkable, even when they’re nearly invisible. And the scientific evidence-base says that awe is a great mental health support.
Finding Awe in My Backyard
Thanks to my PictureThis plant identifier, I’ve learned that the tiny yellow blossoms I knew as bird’s foot trefoil are a member of the lotus family. Who knew that lotuses grew in Maine?
A bird’s foot trefoil blossom cluster is perhaps an inch across–nothing like the huge floating blooms of the familiar water lotuses. Carlene Hill Byron photo
I’ve also found out that what I’ve just called “goldenrod” all these years includes, along this trail, five different species (there are more than 120 total!). Some grow shrubby and dense; some are tall and laden with the familiar spires; some shoot long spires off leggy branches.
Maine goldenrods bloom in fields and along trails. Carlene Hill Byron photos
Then there are the unexplained mysteries I all but stumble across. An early spring mystery: How did this ice grow a shelf that pops it up above the puddle and the earth? A late summer mystery: What animal scattered this heap of sand while digging its burrow?
Looking high above, I stop to stare at a squirrel whose eyes appear to have been considerably bigger than its stomach. How in the world has it managed to climb 12 feet up a tree while carrying a nearly whole discarded apple? How has it managed to keep hold of it? What will it do next?
(The squirrel’s successful strategy: it leaned against the tree trunk while eating enough to reduce the apple’s size and weight, then carried the rest off to wherever its snack storage might be …)
Mental Health Benefits of Awe
The world around me is so busy, so full, so creative that it is nearly impossible not to stand in awe. It makes me grateful to belong to such an amazing world! And happily, just stopping a moment to notice the remarkable life around me turns out to be a great support for good mental health.
The world around me is so busy, so full, so creative that it is nearly impossible not to stand in awe.
Hope Reese explored the mental health benefits of awe in an article for the New York Times. Here’s some of what she learned:
Awe affects our bodies. It slows heart rates and causes us to breathe more deeply.
Awe affects our minds. Psychologist Dr. Dacher Keltner said awe shuts down–at least temporarily–the negative self-talk so many of us live with.
Awe can be found in everyday encounters–with science, with nature, with creative work, with people we admire for their moral goodness.
To experience awe, you have to be paying attention. You’re not going to notice something is awesome if you’re not bothering to notice things.
Generally, we experience awe when paying attention to something other than ourselves. In the words of author Sharon Salzburg, awe is “the absence of self-preoccupation.” Dr. Keltner said awe helps us “realize our place in the larger context, our communities.”
An awe-filled mind begins to discover our belonging to something larger and more perfect than our own limited selves.
And perhaps it’s exactly because awe focuses us something remarkable outside ourselves that awe supports our mental health. An awe-filled mind is a lot like a mind in a flow state: it’s so completely engaged with the remarkable other that time, distress, and obligations melt away from consideration. We cease to belong exclusively to our limited selves and begin to discover our belonging to something larger and more perfect. We recognize value in things we might have considered small enough to overlook.
When we stop in awe, we recognize value in things so small we might have overlooked them.
Nature. This comes not just from viewing sunrises over mountaintops but even tiny daily encounters with God’s remarkable creation.
Creative work. I often find awe in seeing what others create; many experience awe as they find their own creative work exceeding what they understand to be their own creativity and imagination.
Music and movement. Group dances with coordinated movement and choral singing are ways many people experience awe.
Admirable people. We experience awe when we see a parent loving their child or a neighbor helping an elder. We find awe when we think about heroes (and she-roes!) we admire.
The 21st century prescriptions for finding awe, and its scientifically metered mental health benefits, are echoed in a Biblical encouragement:
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. … And the God of peace will be with you. (Philippians 4:8-9).
When we remember to pay attention to the good and beautiful around us, allowing ourselves to be in awe of what is remarkable in this world, we find peace.
Peace, awe and ever better mental health to you today!
It’s Mental Health Awareness Week, which makes it a great week for pastors to remember that when they fulfill their own calling as pastors, they provide 5 mental health basics to the members of their church. Here’s a 60-second summary:
The Church and Mental Illness 