Writing On Grief

One thing I find myself writing a lot about lately is mental health and the many ways that mental health has came into my life spreading its poison. I write to try and break boundaries and to try to help others whilst helping myself.

Nearing four Years ago my Dad took his own life. Some days talking about this seems easy, almost as if what happened is something I should be talking about. That I need to talk about it so my Dad isn’t forgotten and maybe in some way my words will help others to continue.

But then if I am to talk about it, I need to show the other side to the story. The side where a lot of the time I spend hours just thinking about what I have lost. Thinking about him, about how I miss the sound of his voice, the warmth of his hugs or even just how his chin felt prickly when he hadn’t shaved for a while. A lot of the time I question myself, just drag the same constant questions through my mind. Why did he decide suicide was the answer? Was there anything I could have done to help him? It can be so daunting. When these questions go through my mind, I try to remind myself that none of it was my fault or anybody’s fault. My dads choice of suicide was because he was mentally ill and the help he did receive was not enough. Perhaps it was the stigma behind mental health or the embarrassment he felt asking for help, we will never know. But I remember my dad for the person he was, he made me so happy in many ways whilst I was growing up.

Grief is a strange beast one that I still have not managed to overcome, time is the biggest healer. If I could spend one more day, one more hour even, with my dad I would do in the skip of a heartbeat. But until then I want to encourage anyone that may be suffering with any mental health conditions or has experiences with grief to reach out.

“You’re not a victim for sharing your story, you are a survivor setting the world on fire with your truth. And you never know who needs your light, your warmth and raging courage.” Alex Elle