The difficulty of getting in

Why it's so hard to reach those struggling — in my experience

Suicide is the?second leading cause of death ?for ages 10-14 and 25-34. The only age category where suicide rates are decreasing are 45–54-year-olds.

As a golf fan, the?news of the death of Grayson Murray ?the morning after withdrawing from competition consumed my social and news feeds.

Murray’s parents confirmed his death was the result of suicide. Murray was well-known to have struggled with depression, anxiety, and alcohol addiction. He spent time at Hazelden Betty Ford in 2023 and has spoken about his challenges openly since.

The questions that everyone asks is why, why now, and how did we not know?

These are all legitimate questions, and they are incredibly difficult to get the answers to.

I have two reflections based in personal and professional experience that, for nothing else, offer a perspective worth exploring.

The window of opportunity is small

Early in my career in designing and delivering peer-based recovery support programs, we developed a workplace initiative to engage employees to seek help for their addiction or additional support for their recovery.

This program was dreamed up at Face It TOGETHER as far back as 2007. We were early. Today, employer and recovery friendly workplace programs are the trend.

We had some of the best communicators on the planet developing our messaging. But we consistently ran into the same problem: activating the 10-15% of people we knew were struggling with mild to high-functioning severe addiction.

We would go into companies and give our talks and education sessions and they would rarely move the needle. We averaged 2-3% engagement. Barely enough to establish a strong ROI.

When I would give these talks, I could see immediately who was struggling — they were like a reflection of my former self. I’d do all I could to try and put myself next to that person and tell them I understood. But invariably, they were checked out and often the first one’s out of the room.

They know the deal. They know why you are there. They don’t like that you are there. They don’t like feeling the way they do. They don’t like the confusion of knowing they should listen and grab the outstretched?hand. But their brain tells them they don’t need the help and things aren’t as bad as this unknown guy is describing them.

The pain is bad. But the nature of the condition is that the pain has to get very bad before people act. This is why many people linger in and out of addiction for a long time before everything goes south — seemingly all of a sudden.

The uncertainty is real. If I follow this unknown guy’s advice, who is going to guarantee that my job will be here, that my life will actually get better?

There are no guarantees — well, there is one — that whatever feelings and pain I have, they are numbed by the “pleasure” producing substances and behaviors that drive my addiction.

Getting into that tiny space and convincing a person to take the next step is a monumental task — especially when you are an arm's length away in some workplace wellness or recovery program that this employee did not sign up for.

Navigating in silence

Connecting with the suicidal person is just as hard.

I vividly remember my long bouts with suicidal ideation and multiple attempts, along with the swirling messages of hope and support as I went in and out of various treatments and AA meetings.

But just like the guy sitting in the back of the room trying not to be seen, such is the nature of the suicidal mind. We don’t want to be seen — yet, we feel unseen. It’s an absolute mind screw.

We want to live, but not here, not in all this mess.

But we cannot see the way out; cannot see the other side.

So, we go along to get along. We do some of the things the people that care about us tell us to do. Things even get a little better. Be we are still walking the tightrope.

We get so good at convincing others we’re “fine” and “better” that we start convincing ourselves of the same. But we know better. We’re not fine; we’re lost and remain on a downward spiral into a hole we’ve been staring into for far too long.

Eventually, we give into the compulsion to see what’s in that hole.

None of it makes any sense.

And all of it makes sense.

What do we do?

God. I don’t know.

Every year when I speak to the USD Law School, I get asked this question. I only have one answer….

Keep connecting.

The only thing we really ever want is for the people we care about — but struggle to tell them so — is for them to sit next to us in their own way and just be there, acknowledge the hurt, and be there. We don’t need to have a deep conversation about our feelings. We just want to have a regular, loving interaction that we saw so many others having around us.

So, I tell the class to spread the connective wealth. Have more coffees and lunches with each other. Briefly, and even in passing, say to someone, “I see things are off today — if you want company, I’m here.”

We don’t need overt solutions or social engineering.

It’s all cliche but it’s all I got for now … we just need more kindness and more connecting with one another.

The thing I learned through my experience with suicidal thoughts and actions was that like a lot of feelings and emotions, those feelings are mostly temporary too. The challenge is that most of us are never taught how to engage our emotions in a healthy way. So, when the time comes and we’ve gone too far down into the hole, hopelessness takes over.

This is such a difficult topic. It’s not one I take particular joy in but recognize that our experiences must be shared. This is the tradition of being human and it’s what I have to share today.