1. How are you – Before my son Ariel z”l ended his own life some nine years ago; this was such a simple and often irrelevant question. I understood that most people were asking in a superficial way and it was fine if I responded in kind. Now, the question is fraught with meaning. Are people asking me “stam,” in a cordial and polite manner? Or do they really want to know how I’m doing? How am I coping? How did I Ride Through? If it’s the latter, how can I possibly respond with intent when people ask me passing me on the street or when I’m having a cup of coffee at a restaurant? I often just say, “It’s complicated.” Because it is. And I need time to share in a meaningful way, but I am keenly aware that people are in a rush and don’t have the bandwidth to listen to complicated stories. Life in Israel is sufficiently complicated as it is. I am open to sharing, but not on the run and I certainly do not want to become a burden or someone to avoid.

2. How do I get up in the morning – I stand up one foot at a time. I never hit the snooze button and try to shut off my brain, as much as possible. I focus on concrete short-term goals as simple as brushing my teeth, getting dressed and thinking about workout programs for my fitness clients. If I start thinking about the loss of my son and all the accompanying issues such as guilt, sorrow, pain, anger and a terrible ache and void, I will never get out of bed. Training my mind to focus first thing in the morning on short term technical goals instead of the loss of my son is exceedingly harder than riding up hills or doing four strength training circuits. Getting up is hard – thinking too much is worse. So, I move, I do, I Ride Through doing the small things which enable me to live and enjoy life.

3. How many children do you have – Three. It’s a simple, straightforward question with a simple answer. It used to be, but it is no longer. This type of question is often asked at weddings, social events or when I meet people for the first time. I’m not sure why this question is asked so often. Are people really interested? Or it’s simply a way to handle awkward silence. And, what happens when people ask, “so what do they do; where do they live.” If I speak openly, I risk killing the pleasant ambiance. But, lying denies my son’s memory and destroys my soul. That has never happened in the past and will never happen in the future. I have three children – just one is no longer alive. I don’t feel the need to initiate conversations with questions about the family, nor do I have to mention the cause of death. But I will not shy away from the truth if asked – even at the risk of killing the conversation. This is precisely why it’s easier to keep to my small circle of friends and why attending parties, weddings or other social engagements are no longer a simple endeavor. Similar to question number one – something that used to be simple, is now complicated.

4. Why? Why is there depression? Why is suicide so prevalent and such a taboo subject? I don’t know and I don’t think I will ever really understand. But it really doesn’t matter to me any longer, because it’s a question that only leads to additional questions. Instead, I have chosen to focus on what we can do to increase awareness of suicide, to reduce stigma and to save lives. I write and speak about the need to understand the basic definition of depression, to ensure that depressed people are not left alone, to involve the wider community in the treatment of people suffering from depression, to ask depressed people directly and empathetically if they are contemplating self harm, to keep dangerous objects away and to be aware that depression comes in waves and that the impulsivity to hurt oneself in the moment can be curtailed. Most people yearn to live but decide to end their lives in order to end their pain. By discussing suicide prevention openly and acknowledging the struggles people endure, we increase our ability to save lives.

So, the why is not as important as the how – how do we save lives is the question that drives me.

So, let’s talk about the how. It’s no longer a question – but rather a responsibility, a mission and, in some way, even a privilege to engage in the task of saving lives.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)