Posted on by She Who Rises

Suicide has nothing to do with strength

Dr. Antoinette “Bonnie” Candia-Bailey is no more. By all accounts, an excellent person and dedicated professional, she committed suicide following a series of demoralizing, bullying, and not so subtle attacks in her workplace at the hands of her boss. Attacks, punctuated by the absence of protection and support from her employer, that left her deeply depressed, anxious, and ultimately, officially terminated from her job.

It might blow you away that a person could end their life over anything regarding work. It might come across as weak or even unbelievable, but suicide has nothing to do with strength.

Dr. Antoinette “Bonnie” Candia-Bailey

Suicide isn’t about fortitude but instead despair and hopelessness in aggregate form. It’s feeling irreparably broken and alone and seeing no other way out. It’s being exhausted by the lack of safe places to rest and just be. It’s being desperate for an immediate end to a long and excruciating period of suffering.

In her thoughtful and deeply personal devotional, Not Alone: Reflections on Faith and Depression, Rev. Dr. Monica A. Coleman describes some of the hopeless thoughts that can cloud the minds of those of us with depressive conditions, thoughts like:

I’ll never feel better again,
I’m a burden to everyone around me, including those I love most,
I’m incapable of making a positive contribution to the world,
I’ve tried everything – every medication, therapist, insurance agency – and none of it has helped,
This pain is so intense that only death can alleviate it,
God must hate me to make me this sad, morose, numb and/or bad, and the usual thorn in my own side,
God must be disappointed in me for not having my act together

These are thoughts that I’ve often struggled with myself. For me, they fuel a panic that can grow into an urgent need for escape, by any means necessary. That urgent need for escape creates the focus necessary to make plans to die.

Planning is a telltale sign of a pending suicide attempt. Putting one’s affairs in order, whether it’s finding new homes for once treasured items or being intentional about saying “goodbye” to loved ones, displays loud and clear a person’s seriousness about ending their life.

We know that Dr. Candia-Bailey planned. She sent an email to her attacker/boss prohibiting him from talking to her family once the deed was done. She was suffering in deep emotional pain, but she was serious and resolute about her next steps. That isn’t weakness.

We may never know Dr. Candia-Bailey’s thoughts as she committed this final act. I don’t know what she believed in or how she lived her life. I can only wonder if she was looking forward to rest, peace in some place far from here, a place like heaven.

I’m not one of those people who get into debates about what is and isn’t a sin, or whether some are worse than others or who will or won’t make it into heaven. In general, I think those debates are a distraction from what really matters, which is relationship – the main thing Jesus died for us to have.

Any idea that God is angry with us, judges, or abandons us in these desperate moments just doesn’t match the Jesus I know. When it comes to something as world-changing as suicide, what I have experienced with Jesus when my thoughts have slid down this path wasn’t any of those things. It’s always been compassion.

Not surprise. Not disapproval. Not judgment. Just compassion and a gentle re-orientation away from my suffering, a feat that seemed impossible only a moment before, and a sense that there is more for me that lies beyond this pain, beyond this intense suffering. A sense that joy and purpose will return… eventually.

The compassion that I have found in my most bleak moments conveys a sense that God is pained by my suffering too. Monica put it this way,

“I believe that God is with us, feels with us, and is moved by our suffering – even when, especially when, we cannot feel God’s presence. I’m not sure the right word is “sin,” but perhaps all of this breaks God’s heart too.”

Dr. Candia-Bailey is gone. She won’t have the chance to witness what could have been beyond her torment, her excruciating pain. No-one will. It isn’t a crime, but it is a tragedy… for all of us. If nothing else, I hope she’s found peace and the rest she sought.

If you are struggling with thoughts of suicide, you don’t have to face them alone. Call or text 988 (or check out these resources) to get connected to confidential, non-judgmental support now. 💜

Posted on by She Who Rises

Beautifully Human

Here at the start of the year, I found myself teetering on the edge of a (yet another) depressive episode. In the last few days of 2023, I found joy in a quiet Christmas, a beautifully reimagined The Color Purple, and a simple NYE. But as the new year began, heavy rain and the threat of snow did whatever it does to my brain that shuts life down.

It set off the migraines, drowsiness, and fatigue that keeps me stuck in a dark room, huddled under the covers, barely coming out to eat or even bathe – much like a depressive episode. And with the addition of some unwelcome medical news and the ending of some important relationships, my personal cache of hope began to slip through my fingers.

This odyssey with my health followed me into the new year, along with a very real and recent job loss. Last year, my deeply analytical brain couldn’t muster the cognitive strength to do my job. I couldn’t even fake it. As 2024 approached, I tried not to think too much about how I would manage, much less overcome all of this, until I was firmly in the new year.

At this point, I am convinced that God has gotten me every job that I’ve ever had. In each scenario, there were too few options and resources to see it any differently. And through prayer, I had been reassured that the God that did that for me so many times before would do it again when the time came. So, again, I tried not to dwell on it… until the new year.

But when 2024 came, I felt overwhelmed that I didn’t have a single idea of how I would navigate any of this. To be honest, I’m still crawling my way out of those feelings. And you know what else? It’s frustrating as hell.

It’s frustrating to believe in a very real and personal God, yet still struggle with doubt and fear that makes me want to control everything. I used to believe that all I needed was to be reassured that God had it, had me, and all my worries would melt away. But more and more, I’m seeing that faith doesn’t exactly work that way all the time, or at least not mine.

I’m seeing that faith still takes work, no matter what reassuring words the Holy Spirit whispers into my heart in the quiet hours of the night. I’m learning that I may still have to hold on to the word even when I can’t see it happening for me, even when there’s no evidence that it ever will.

Sometimes, building this muscle of faith sucks. But I’m also seeing that it’s okay to acknowledge that it does sometimes suck.

So often, I want to push myself to shake it off or beat myself up when I find myself dwelling on the hard and uncertain stuff. I get angry. I get sad. I become unforgiving of self. But emotions are just signals to be investigated, right? And, make no mistake, they are God-given.

If I’m made in the image of God, in mind, body and spirit, and the God of the Bible gets angry, is grieved, or has any other emotion, then so can I. I have yet to see Jesus, the Father, or Holy Spirit try to repress how they feel in the Bible.

There’s no mention of Jesus beating himself up for being frustrated with the disciples’ lack of faith or after running the money changers out of the temple. I’ve never heard of Daddy God pretending not to regret that he had made people during all the antics of Noah’s time on earth. Nor have I known the Holy Spirit to pretend not to be grieved when I’ve gone my own way or made a mess of a gift I’ve been given.

They feel their feelings… they just don’t stay there. And made in their image, I can allow myself to do the same.

I can love God and still be frustrated that building and exercising faith can be hard, frustrating, and not at all fun. It’s okay, I can feel those feelings even as I keep walking forward with God. After all, it’s how I’m made.

Posted on by She Who Rises

Will I see you again?

Someone I used to know is gone… actually two of them. A brother and sister whose mother is a longtime friend of my family. We spent a little time together as young kids and got to know each other better as teens in the new city we had all somehow migrated to. Both in their prime and with a family of their own, they left this place only a couple years apart, just like they came into it.

I hadn’t spoken to either of them in years. Yet, I am certain that running into each other would have been a joyous occasion for all of us. More than joyous.

What do you say to a mist, a vapor that was the presence of a person you once knew?

She was low key and quiet. He was a natural leader who was a whole vibe all on his own. Both were cool with everyone, a rarity.

I have vivid memories of who they were when we were young. And newer ones through the eyes of the people who have known them in the time since. She had become a nurse. He an accomplished activist. By all accounts, they had remained the same.

To say that I am sad about their departure doesn’t capture it at all. Truth be told, I am ashamed of the gap between now and then, though I know it goes both ways. Life happens. It gets in the way, and before you know it, there’s a bookend. No visible next chapter in which to run into them again. I am sorrowful for my own loss. And I’m heartbroken for the people closest to them, those who will miss them the most. But there’s more.

The day he passed, I imagined that his sister would be waiting on the other side, ready to embrace him the moment he crossed over. I saw the joy on their faces upon reuniting, but also the somber realization of all they were leaving behind. And that’s when it hit me.

Where would they be? Where will their souls, the part of them that I knew, live from now on?

They belonged to a different faith tradition. I don’t know how their beliefs may have changed or evolved over the years. In particular, I don’t know what they thought of Jesus. And that’s the part that troubles my already broken heart.

How can two people, both beautiful in so many ways and who did so much good, not end up in heaven?

My memory took me to a story Jesus told about people who won’t believe (Luke 16:19-31). He said that if they are not persuaded by Moses and the prophets, they won’t be persuaded by someone who rises from the dead. He was talking about the religious leaders of the day and the prophecies that predicted his life and sacrifice. They were stubborn in their disbelief and he knew that even his own dying on the cross and rising again wouldn’t change that.

My belief in Jesus, his words, and his sacrifice tells me that it’s possible that we won’t all be together again in the same place. The hard truth of my faith tradition says that no matter what we do in life, where we end up is based on a single thing. It’s based on a choice to believe that Jesus is who he said he is despite all of our doubts, pain, and unanswered questions. It’s a choice to believe in an eternal life with him or an eternal agony without him, however that may look.

What adds to my grief is the fact that I don’t know what they believed, and now it’s too late for me to do anything about it. I’m ashamed of my own timidity, my lack of courage, and my propensity toward distraction. I’m sorry that I didn’t at least say, ‘I want to see you again. I want you to live. So please, believe.’

I can’t say it to them now. And I won’t know the outcome of their journey until its my turn to make the trek. But, on the off chance that no-one has ever said it to you… I want you to live. So please, please, believe.

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