I am sure I have mentioned Kevin Hines before. If not in my writing, you have probably heard me speak about him. He jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge almost 20 years ago in an attempt to end his life. By the absolute Grace of God, he survived. He now spends his life sharing his story all over the world.  Kevin always says, “A pain shared is a pain halved”. There is so much power in that single statement and it is something that I have clung to since losing my beautiful brother to suicide.

It is so easy to share our joys and our successes with other people.  It is human nature to want others to only see the good that we have to offer.  It is never easy to share the hard and the ugly because we don’t want others to see us as weak or broken. But we are all human and if we aren’t willing to share our real-life experiences, good or bad, then how will we ever learn to be kinder and more empathetic human beings?  It has never been easy to share our story of suicide loss or our grief journey that has followed. It is gut wrenching at best to put my heart (and that of my family’s) on the line for all to see.  I do so because sharing it somehow lessens the burden I have been forced to carry. As Kevin says, it halves the pain in some crazy and therapeutic way.  I also share because I want you to learn from our pain.  I want you to use the hard lessons we have learned in the aftermath of Jamie’s suicide to be more empathetic and to be more aware of how every single thing we do has an effect on those around us… which takes me to Sunday morning.  

There was an article trending on social media Sunday.  It was one of the first things I saw in the morning when I started trolling my feed for something interesting to read.  The article was clearly about suicide. It took me a few hours to compose myself long enough to read it, but when I did, I found that it was a beautifully written article and the message that it carried was, indeed, very important. However, initially, it 100% undid me from the inside out. Absolutely all the progress I have made in the last 22 months vanished in one single breath. I was immediately just as grief stricken as I was in the moment that I learned Jamie had taken his own life.  I screamed. I cried. I vomited and I begged God for understanding as my husband stood by helpless (again). It was awful. Here’s the thing. It wasn’t the article. It was the image that accompanied the article that unraveled me.   

Images are powerful, my friends.  We all know that. I see a picture of the farmhouse my grandparents lived in and I can remember exactly the way it smelled.  I see a picture of my favorite beach and I can hear the waves and I can taste the salt on my lips. I see a picture of my girls as toddlers and I can remember the way their sticky little hands felt on my face.  I see a picture of my brother and I can almost feel his kiss on my forehead the way he would do when he hugged me. I can hear his infectious laugh that always followed his “Hey, Baby Girl” as he would greet me.   A single image has enough power to transport us right back to all our favorite places, moments, and people. Images are truly an amazing and magical gift. Sometimes. 

On the other hand, a single image can be equally as hurtful.  For example, I know I am not speaking for just myself when I say that seeing an image of an elegant, thin, fit, beautiful, and seemingly flawless woman can make me feel immediately inferior.  In the matter of a millisecond, it can rob me of every last ounce of self-esteem that I might happen to still possess! Can I get an AMEN, sisters?!? I know you know what I am talking about!  

Images. Are. Powerful.  

I have been very open over the last 22 months about the anger, the guilt, the what ifs, the regrets, the shame, and the feelings of betrayal that accompany suicide grief.  It wasn’t until Sunday’s unfortunate set back that I realized I haven’t talked much about the trauma that we are also left to live with.  And, yes, trauma is different than grief.  The trauma is what complicates our grief and gives it more layers than we will ever be able to peel back.  

Self-inflicted gunshot wound, intentional drug or alcohol overdose, carbon dioxide poisoning, jumping off a bridge/building, hanging, etc.…  it doesn’t matter the means that your loved one chose in order to complete suicide.  It is traumatic, violent, and brutal. It’s just plain unimaginable.  Whether we are left to find our loved one or not the image of what they have done to themselves is ours to live with for the rest of our lives. We replay their final act over and over and over again in our minds as we search and beg for understanding.  It doesn’t matter if it has been a week, a month, 2 years, or 20 years, the trauma is real.  

I am not writing this piece to make anyone feel bad or to seek sympathy.  I am simply sharing more of our “hard and ugly” to remind you that our scars are real.  I fully support sharing things on social media. Clearly. If it wasn’t for social media, I would have never had the opportunity to connect with so many of you or to be so successful in our first year with The JBR Foundation.  Social media, if used properly, is an incredible tool for connecting all of us. However, I do ask you… No. I am BEGGING you to be more mindful of the things we share. Even though the content of an article may be incredibly compelling and moving, the image that accompanies it may be more powerful than any words one could possibly write.  

On behalf of the 48,000 families a year that are left behind by suicide loss, please consider it.  An image of someone with a handful of pills, or the gesture of a gun to the head, or a picture of a noose hanging from the ceiling may be just that to you… just an image.  To families like mine, it is a dangerous trauma trigger.  

It is a reminder of our loved one’s last act on earth. It is a reminder that they chose to leave us. And, it hurts us more than I ever hope for you to know.  

You are loved. You are worthy. Your life here matters. And, YOU are someone’s Jamie.

XO - Jennifer

National Hotline for Suicide Prevention - 1-800-273-8255 or Text 741741