How My Brother’s Passing 15 Years Ago Has Impacted My Business
CW: surface talk of suicide and mental health. I am trained not to go into graphic details about this topic, but please honor your capacity.
(This was originally published in November 2023).
This week marks 15 years since I lost my brother to suicide down at OU.
About three years after his death, I started getting involved with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I needed time to process and grieve. For me, living in a new city with few friends, I found myself going back to FL a lot to be with people who knew me before my brother died because I needed that security. None of my Cleveland friends knew that version of me, and I needed people around who did.
When I started walking with AFSP in 2011, I had no idea I would become a full-on volunteer in 2014, a co-chair in 2015, and chair of the 2016 Cleveland Walk.
While this all sounds very noble and selfless, it was also very draining. I haven't volunteered for anything significant since, as it wrung out my energy, and when I left, I felt very unappreciated for all the time I had sacrificed and the strides we had made as a chapter.
I was hurt when I volunteered for a few hours at the AFSP national walk in DC in the summer of 2017. I asked some of the lead volunteers where they had come from (thinking they had been part of the cause in their hometowns). Nope. They were paid contracted event planners and had no ties to the cause. I felt that was an insensitive way of using the talent of people who had proven in their areas that they were successful walk leaders and not inviting them to be part of the national walk.
That last year of being involved proved to me a few things.
I could no longer treat my brother's cause of death as a business. Although I know we helped a lot of survivors feel like they weren't alone, I was also tasked with raising money, and my brother's death felt like a business transaction. I felt like I had lost sight of his memory and what I could do for him.
I could no longer work in corporate America. I was tired of making people look good, bending over backward, not being trusted, and lining other people's pockets. I was tired of the sexism and politics. I left my corporate job in April of the following year (a considerable privilege, BTW).
When I began doing anti-racism work in 2020, I finally felt that I had done something more personal for my brother's memory. Patrick had always been a person who loved everyone, no matter how they presented. He never judged someone's capabilities based on race, disability, accessibility, etc. He had a huge heart.
I cannot help but carry this experience with me as I coach clients. When I became trauma-informed in 2020, it became apparent that I had been using some of the practices, but there is always room for improvement. When Patrick died, I was emotionally pulled open and also felt that I had to be strong for my parents' grief. I was already an empath, and this life event further promoted that.
I don't think it's an accident that I have had clients who live with a mental health diagnosis. I believe my ultimate calling is to ensure that people know that they are in charge of their journey.
I let my clients know I have the patience to let them dictate what they need and feel on any given day or week. I don't rush anyone through "my framework," as that doesn't work and typically takes people further away from themselves.
I communicate often when I onboard folks and throughout our time together to ensure they know what to expect and how things will go. The nervous system works best on predictability, and I'm not too fond of surprises when it comes to being coached and learning. It makes me more anxious.
I get to know my clients as people, not just a transaction. I know how their family dynamics and work affect their self-care and schedule. I learn what they enjoy and what is challenging. I notice how much information I can share in a session and when it's too much.
As we come out of the C19 years, people are becoming more discerning as to who they trust online, and rightfully so. There are a lot of folks who put out one message, and then once you're in, it's completely different. This has happened to me a few times, and it's so discouraging. It's even more challenging when there is no way out of what you signed up for, and you're hooked for a lengthy period. I know life is unpredictable, and thus, I let my clients give me a 4-week notice if they need to break their contract.
As much as I aim to hold a safe space, I also know I cannot speak for my client's safety, and therefore, I hope they feel it's a brave space where they can share their thoughts and feelings without judgment. I don't assume someone trusts me, as I have been burned many times myself. I let time and someone's comfort dictate their trust level.
The last straw that sent my brother's depression spiraling was being accused of plagiarism (I don't believe it was ever proven, but I can't remember). Nevertheless, the university approached someone with a mental illness with, perhaps, little empathy, and he felt unsafe, like he had many times with anyone of authority. He felt hopeless and embarrassed. Even though he had many friends and was loved, he couldn't get past his demons and felt like he had let people down.
These feelings can happen when we judge people and don't ask why or get curious. Or when we project our feelings towards someone when it isn't about us if we're saying we're holding space for them and their lived experience. I shut down fast when I feel like I am being judged, and some distrust happens almost immediately.
I'm not sure who I am now could have saved my brother, but if it makes someone else feel supported and seen, then I think I have done what I set out to do with my life's work.
In this season of gratitude, I hope you find ways to be thankful for who is there for you and how you show love and care to your circle. Life is fleeting, and we never know what can happen, but we must live for the here and now and not hang on to "shoulds."
Thank you for reading.