In our kitchen we had a Pill Drawer.
Right there, open, available for the taking, no reaching, no searching – just there.

We lived on a farm and irony of ironies we all had allergies and one of my brothers had asthma, which in the sixties was a challenge. And then there are the times of flu, headaches and whatever ‘ails ya.’ It was in that drawer.

I was living with a mother who’s mantra for me was, “You ruin everything.”
A father who relished in criticism, humiliation, sarcasm. In short a bully.
And then at the age of fifteen, I was dating a twenty year old man.
I had never dated.
He worked for my parents. He took a shine to me and I was flattered.
No one intervened to say, this was not a good choice.
No one said anything.
Everyone liked him. What could be wrong?
Everything.
It was abusive and as I already knew abuse, this was normal to me.
Never having dated, I knew nothing.

What I did feel, was that, I never got it right.
Someone was always there telling me, I was getting it wrong. I was ruining it.

On more than one occasion, I would open the Pill Drawer and just stand there.
Thinking.
Perhaps this would be for the best.

My mother had this expression she said often, or at least often enough that it remained with me.

“I’d never kill myself, because I might miss out on something.”
This usually came after someone in the news, or in the community had suicided.

It sounds glib, thoughtless, lacking compassion.
Quiet your judgement.

We lived in a country village. The kind where everyone decides they know everyone and everything about everyone.

There was a family. A mother, a father, a son, a daughter. One day the son took his life. Not long after, the father took his life. Both in their home. A time after that, the mother and the daughter moved.

People who feel they know everything, talk a lot, and make judgements on what they think they know.

People who realize they don’t know everything, talk less, sometimes they say nothing, out of respect – they tend to have compassion.

My mother’s expression of, “I might miss out on something.”

Translated, to me; “Tomorrow might be better.”

I would hear her and I’d close the drawer.

Over the years there have been times of financial strife, relationships that were not healthy, children who after, years of being needed, tell you that don’t want you in their life anymore. Loss, upon loss, upon loss where you think…”Why bother, what’s the point?”

And I hear my mother.
“I’d never kill myself, because I might miss out on something.”

And I actually smile.
In her words of apparent not caring, she has saved me. Over and over.
I’m still here.
Because one never knows. Tomorrow is a new day and there may be something there worth hanging around for.

Let’s hang around. Let’s wake up and see what the day brings.

The sun rising, a bird singing outside our window, a friend saying hi, a morning cup of coffee, a walk through the neighbourhood. An idea, a solution, a dream worth reaching for.

Let’s close the drawer and know we are worth choosing to live.
Let’s not miss out on us.

September, Suicide Prevention Month
“Changing the Narrative on Suicide”
#StartTheConversation

Photo; AI Generated