Deb shares her story freely and speaks in public settings and to media outlets about her experiences with suicide. She is confident and is very direct about her thoughts on the challenges of a suicide loss.

“I don’t need to have the anonymity only because I think sometimes the anonymity feeds into the stigma. People don’t even want to admit that they’ve lost a child to suicide because of the stigma that’s already connected to it. So then if we continue with anonymity about it, then how do people then respond to us in a compassionate way if they don’t even know what happened? Does that make sense? I had some clients want to make small talk when they’re getting their massage. They ask, “oh, do you have any children?” and then when I tell them “yes – combined, my husband and I have three daughters, and we have one son. But our son is no longer here”. Then they’re like, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. What happened?” And then I said, “well, he died by suicide”. And then they don’t even know what to say. And, then they said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to bring up any hurt or pain.” And I said “No. I want to talk about him because in a way, it keeps him alive and his memory will always be alive, he will always be a part of me, I will always be a part of him, but in talking about him it keeps him present.” Even though he’s not here … he is…but he’s not. He’s not physically, but he is spiritually and I feel that by continuing to talk about them that does keep their memory alive, it keeps them alive and in a way, it allows them to continue past that physical plane.”

I recall the first day I met with Deb when she sat in my living room with me. From the first day she came to visit me, I learned from her that it is ok to own the way my son died. Deb’s openness made me feel like I was not alone. By simply observing her that day, she also taught me that someone could go on to lead a productive, happy life even after such a tragedy. My immediate prospects seemed bleak, and she was a ray of light I needed in my dark world.

In reflecting on her reaction to being anonymous in this study about mothers who lost a child to suicide, I had to reassess what has been ingrained in me regarding participant confidentiality and anonymity. Her assertive stance in challenging the preconceived notions of a seemingly benign element of research such as anonymity is an example of the thought-provoking discourse that occurs amongst survivors of suicide.

I had to set aside my preconceived notions that participating mothers would prefer to remain unidentified. This forced me to critically assess why I held that belief. Did it stem from my education regarding researcher best practices? Or did it originate from an even deeper held belief that it is shameful to lose a child to suicide? I determined it was a mix of both but, sadly, I must admit that the latter may have been more prominent in my original thought-process undertaking plans for this study. I had not even considered that the topic of anonymity would be a prominent thought with participants, but the idea of honesty and stigma with regards to suicide seems to still be a vicious Catch-22 cycle.

If survivors are open about suicide there is judgement yet if we protect ourselves from this judgement during our difficult times, we are perpetuating the stigma which only further serves to inflict pain on us as a group of survivors.

While I could not remain anonymous due to the autoethnographic nature of my study, I had assumed the participating mothers would appreciate being able to share freely under the cloak of an alias. I had not considered that they, like me, would want to be identified as they do their part to expose the insidiousness of suicide survivorship. Also, I had not made the connection that it was women like Deb who shared freely, that taught me I had the right to also share my reality and no one should have the power to make me feel otherwise.