Suicide Starts Long Before the Action
Suicide Starts Long Before the Action
There is a dangerous misconception that suicide begins the moment someone
makes the decision to end their life.
It doesn't.
Suicide often starts years before the action.
It begins in the quiet places no one sees. It grows through untreated
trauma, unspoken pain, hopelessness, isolation, shame, abandonment, and the
exhausting belief that no one truly understands what you're carrying. It is the
accumulation of wounds that never had the opportunity to heal.
I know this because I lived it.
For years, beginning as a teenager, I suffered silently. I didn't have
the words to explain what was happening inside of me. I couldn't communicate my
pain because I didn't understand it myself. The hurt that sat quietly within me
didn't come out as tears.
People often judge the behavior without asking about the pain behind it.
They saw anger.
They saw frustration.
They saw someone who seemed difficult.
What they didn't see was someone desperately trying to survive emotionally.
There was also a part of my story that remained hidden for years.
Death occupied my thoughts far more than life ever did.
I used to dream about death and wonder how I could guarantee that my
chapter would finally end. Some days, the only thing that kept me alive was the
fear that I wouldn't succeed—that I would survive an attempt and still have to
carry the same unbearable pain. That fear became the thin line between life and
death.
When I couldn't escape the emotional pain, I turned it inward. I began
self-harming. The physical pain became a distraction from the emotional pain
that felt impossible to outrun. For a moment, I could focus on wounds I could
see instead of the ones buried deep inside.
Looking back, I realize I wasn't trying to die as much as I was
desperately trying to find relief from pain that felt endless. I didn't know
how to ask for help because I had never learned that my pain deserved a voice.
We need to normalize talking about suicidal thoughts before they become
suicidal actions.
Having suicidal thoughts is more common than many of us care to admit,
and admitting those thoughts does not automatically mean someone wants to die.
More often, it means someone is overwhelmed and needs support. We have to
remove the shame from saying, "I'm struggling," because
support cannot reach what silence continues to hide.
If we create spaces where people can honestly say, "I'm having
thoughts that scare me," without fear of judgment or rejection, we
create opportunities for healing long before a crisis develops.
They knew my mother had died.
Yet somehow, the pain behind my behavior was dismissed.
What many failed to understand was that when your last line of defense dies, you are left exposed.
You become vulnerable to predators of every kind.
Sometimes those predators are strangers.
Sometimes they are the very people we call family.
I don't say that to condemn families. I say it to bring awareness.
Family is supposed to be our safe place, but sometimes it becomes the place where our deepest wounds are created. Trauma that goes unhealed rarely ends with one person. It travels. It settles into generations. It shapes how we communicate, how we love, how we protect ourselves, and sometimes, how we unintentionally hurt those closest to us.
Trauma has a way of soaking into our pores until survival feels normal.
The abuse, neglect, manipulation, criticism, silence, and emotional wounds become so familiar that we stop recognizing them as trauma. Instead, they become personality traits, family traditions, or "just the way we are."
These are the invisible vessels of unconscious abuse.
Not everyone who hurts another person wakes up intending to do harm.
Many people are simply bleeding from wounds they never acknowledged.
Pain that is not healed often becomes pain that is transferred.
That understanding changed my life.
I stopped asking only, "Who hurt me?"
I also began asking, "What happened to them that they never healed from?"
That question never excused what happened to me.
It simply helped me understand the cycle.
Understanding is not permission.
Compassion is not the absence of boundaries.
Forgiveness is not reconciliation.
Healing does not require me to deny my truth.
It requires me to tell it honestly.
Looking back now, I realize there were countless moments when I wasn't asking someone to save me.
I was simply hoping someone would notice.
Not judge me.
Not label me.
Not tell me to "get over it."
Just notice that I wasn't okay.
That is why suicide prevention cannot begin in an emergency room after someone reaches their breaking point.
It begins years earlier.
It begins in our homes.
It begins in our schools.
It begins in our churches.
It begins in our communities.
It begins when we make it safe for people to say, "I'm not okay."
Far too often we wait until someone reaches a crisis before we take their pain seriously. By then, they may have spent years fighting battles no one ever asked about.
Imagine if we became just as intentional about checking on someone's emotional health as we are about asking whether they've eaten or made it home safely.
Imagine if we viewed anger, withdrawal, perfectionism, addiction, isolation, or constantly taking care of everyone else as possible signs of pain instead of immediately labeling someone as difficult.
Pain does not always look like sadness.
Sometimes it looks like survival.
Most people who experience suicidal thoughts are not asking for death.
They are searching for relief from pain they no longer know how to carry.
There is a profound difference.
Today, I can honestly say I have found peace.
Not because my life has been easy.
Not because my story suddenly became perfect.
But because I finally stopped running from my pain.
I sat with it.
I learned from it.
I cried through it.
I forgave what forgiveness required.
I released what no longer belonged to me.
Most importantly, I chose not to become what hurt me.
This is me healing out loud.
Not because I want sympathy.
Not because I want anyone to feel sorry for me.
Not because I need validation.
I share my truth because silence almost became my prison.
And I know there are others quietly serving the same sentence.
If my story gives one person permission to say, "I'm not okay."
To admit they are having suicidal thoughts before those thoughts become actions.
To ask for help.
To set boundaries.
To seek therapy.
To forgive themselves.
To take accountability that you owe yourself the option to live the life you actually want to live
To choose one more day.
To finally choose you.
Suicide starts long before the action.
So does healing.
Healing begins the moment someone feels seen.
The moment someone is heard instead of judged.
The moment someone believes they matter.
The moment someone realizes their story isn't over.
If you know someone who seems different, don't ignore it.
Ask the difficult
questions.
Listen without
trying to fix everything.
Take their pain
seriously.
Love them loudly.
Sit with them in the
silence.
Your presence may
become the reason they choose tomorrow.
Because sometimes
hope doesn't arrive as a miracle.
Sometimes hope
arrives as a person who simply refused to walk away.
— Journey Clare
"Healing out loud so someone else knows they don't have to suffer in
silence."
Healing doesn't have to happen alone.
Whether you're looking to start a
Peer Support Group in your community or you're searching for a safe space to
heal, we're here to help.
Peer support is built on shared
experiences, hope, understanding, and connection. Sometimes the first step
toward healing is simply knowing someone else understands your journey.
• Starting a Peer Support Group
• Joining an existing healing space
• Peer recovery and wellness support
• Community resources and partnerships
Healing begins with connection.
The Empowerment Center
www.vaempowermentcenter.com
📞 757-990-3684
"Because no one should have to heal alone."
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