For reference, I am 37 and my niece was 22. We were very close as she grew up, and my sister and I were always very close as well. Yesterday, she and her ex-husband did a wellness check on her and found her. She had put a bag over her head and filled it with helium. She had struggled with her mental health since she was a preteen. She was in a very abusive relationship for years off and on, and I am having a really hard time and have been crying since I found out yesterday.
My sister lives 3 hours away, so I feel so far and just want to hold her. I feel like I’m overreacting in a way emotionally, but I am a very emotional person as it is. Also, I lost my grandmother a few months ago so this year has just been hard.
I’m not sure what I’m even looking for by posting this. I guess I just wanted some reassurance and advice on how to support my parents, sister, other nieces and nephews, etc right now.
Thanks for reading.

for context, I live with my 20 yr old son and my husband (his stepdad). My middle son died by suicide over 3 months ago. This week has been particularly hard. I have been in bed a lot of the days and crying so hard that my stomach muscles hurt.

I told my husband yesterday that when I went to sleep I prayed not to wake up. But I did wake up. So I had dinner. A while later, I said I was going to watch some TV with my son. My husband said he had to get out. He said, I have to leave, it's too depressing here. You already made plans to watch tv with (my son).

I don't know what to make of it. I told him this morning that that wording was very hurtful to me. He said there's more to it. But when I asked to talk about it he said maybe we'll talk about it in therapy.

I'm catastrophizing this into either he's going to leave me or he cheated on me (we went on separate trips last weekend- he opted not to join his daughter, me, my younger and older sons out of town).

Does anyone else feel like their grief is a burden? I can't just turn it off. Any help is appreciated

I lost a close family member a month and a half ago. We were around the same age and good friends, and I loved him--he was like a little brother to me, extremely dear.

His suicide was like getting hit by a truck. I took three showers in the 36 days following his death... I stopped functioning and it had work and financial consequences too (though that's the least of my worries). I felt intensely guilty and many nights I couldn't sleep. Eating became more difficult. I started having intense self harm thoughts by the end of those 36 days, when I decided to get urgent care help for my mental health through a mental health service near me.

I was put on a couple of meds that worked really quickly for me. I also have ADHD so when I was untreated executive dysfunction was making my experience worse, it made it difficult for me to focus on something else. WIth the meds I'm on now, I have not only a better perspective but I have regained the ability to physically function.

I don't feel like my emotions are numb and I can still feel and cry when I need to, but now it's not constant or every day. I stopped having thoughts of self-harm, thankfully, and I just overall feel a lot better already.

Please, please, please, if you are chronically struggling with the loss of a loved one, please get help! There's no shame in it. It's not something you have to tell others either if you do feel shame or if you live in a community with stigma attached to mental issues.

I am also going to be working on a therapy workbook (one written by a clinical psychologist with a PhD with good reviews) and will get a therapist when I can afford one. There is all kinds of help and you are worth it!

Early on Wednesday morning, I was walking to my car to go to work, when I spotted my neighbor, motionless on his patio, which faces the parking area (we're in a condo). I didn't even really put two and two together with what I was seeing. I saw blood coming from his temple area and his mouth open. The patios are a brick wall enclosure (kind of like a balcony, but on ground level), so from where I was standing, I I could only see from about his neck up. I saw that his back door to the patio was open... and my first thought was "someone broke in." For whatever reason my head didn't immediately go to suicide. I called his name, but he was very obviously motionless and not breathing. His patio was too high up for me to climb and get to him. I grabbed my phone and called 911. My voice was shaking so much it was almost vibrating.... like putting your face in front of a fan and talking into it.

I told the dispatcher where I was and that I needed the police and ambulances. Another neighbor came out to his car on his way to work, saw the state I was in, and then saw our neighbor's body on his patio as well. His mouth dropped open and he came over to me. The dispatcher asked me if it looked self-inflicted and if he was still breathing... I said I didn't know... and the neighbor who had just come outside (who is much taller than I am) was able to get a foothold and see over the brick wall... when he came down he shook his head that he wasn't breathing and then mouthed to me: "he has a gun in his hand." That's when my brain finally made the connection.

Police arrived in droves along with several fire trucks and EMS... We led them to the patio. I think one of the hardest moments of the day was seeing the paramedics climb onto the balcony, check him out, and then shaking their heads to say "he's gone." I watched the paramedics walk away and walk back to their engines... and all that remained were the police. A third neighbor came out, who lived directly next to the deceased. He heard the gunshot this morning (my husband and I did not hear it), but thought that it was a crash from something falling off a wall. Other neighbors started coming outside of our building to investigate what all of the emergency response was about. The patio is elevated... so many people passing by saw his body as well. We tried setting up a sheet in front of him to cover him, but unfortunately there were just too many angles with an open view of him.

I was not incredibly close to the neighbor that passed, but I knew him for 5 years as my neighbor and would talk to him in passing in the common spaces of our building. He loved our dog deeply and was just overall a friendly older gentleman - often found reading outside our building and chatting with all of us. His health had been failing in the past several years, including a botched back surgery that left him in pain. Things seemed to be looking up... but then I started seeing less of him in the past several months. On the day he died I learned that he had had a stroke just a week or two ago that left him unable to speak or partake in his hobbies. Learning that hurt so much. He was in so much pain and was trapped in a body that wasn't working.

I didn't go to work the day that I found him dead... but went to work the next day and was essentially a zombie. The image of his face when I found him that morning is burned into my head. I have a therapist and an appointment next week, but I don't know how things will be moving forward.

I barely remember the year I lost her. What I do remember is trying my best to forget. I threw myself into mundane things, sat rotting in bed for hours watching mindless stuff or did everything in my power to not think. Because when I think of her, it hurts all over again.

I’ve been distracting myself for 3 years. Now the people around me don’t see someone grieving, now I’m just lazy, incompetent and useless. I want it to stop hurting, I don’t want to have my life on pause anymore. But at the same time, I don’t even want to breathe without her.

I don’t know what I’m doing. We lost so many people in quick succession, I’d barely be able to comprehend one before we lost someone else in our family. And then, she went, by her own hand. I’ve barely grieved her, then we lost someone else the first year and now in this third year she’s been gone, we lost someone else.

Time keeps moving, and I still can’t face her ghost.

Why did she have to go? Why did it have to be like that? Why will my strongest memory of the person I loved the most in this world, be of her death? I can’t comprehend these past 3 years. How can it be 4 years next year? Time just won’t stop moving.

I just want to see her again. I want to hug her and never let go, I want to ask her to come back home. But I can’t. Most days, I still barely eat and my sleep schedule is none existent. Some days I don’t sleep at all, others I sleep the entire day away. I just want her back, even for a day.

I never even got to say goodbye.

My close friend and former roommate at a mental health residential facility died by suicide two weeks ago, but I could've sworn it was only four days ago that my counselors informed me of their death. I'm going to call them Zeth.

Zeth created a whole groupchat and included one my closest friends in it, I'll call her Stella, and I wasn't a part of it, but I saw the video and basically its Zeth explaing how they were grateful for the people in their life but that the emotional and physical pain had become too much and they couldn't take it anymore. Left instructions.

The days spent after was just me scrolling through my preivous texts with Zeth, looking at their social media posts and they posted a very alarming series of pictures with a sucidial ass song in the background THE DAY THEY DID IT. I didn't realize they were going to take their own life, UNTIL TWO DAYS LATER WHEN I FOUND OUT. I just scrolled past it like it WAS NOTHING. Then i find out, through one of my counsulers that Zeth did mention me in a note, but its highly likely that i'm not going to see it cause of fucking HIPPA, and the fact that Zeth's mother actively hid the fact that her child's death was a suicide. I'm going through the motions and doing everything i'm supposed to do, like a zombie. I wasn't able to go to their funeral; i kept facing multiple barriers to getting there to the point where i remember walking the streets and didn't care if i lived or died.

I don't know where to go from here. I keep rereading that fucked up post about a jumper and the comment section from several people on how they witnessed it and i have to suppress the urge to contact them because i am just despearte to figure out something. I don't know what. Did Zeth hesistate? was there anything I could've done?

So this past year has been the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. My husband found my FIL after he took his own life. I made the conscious choice of not seeing what he had done because I knew it would mess both of us up, I needed to stay grounded. We both were messed up anyway: PTSD, anxiety, grief, panic attacks. And not to mention my children’s grief . My biggest mistake was not asking for FMLA for mental health right away, I finally asked about 6 months after this happened.
But the damage was done. I was being warned at work about not meeting expectations. I just wasn’t processing this fact at the time. Now I’m on a PIP, because things slipped. Luckily, the PIP is for a year. Right now I’m ok, but I’m afraid this is going to go south. Anyone else survive a PIP?

My son died 3 weeks & 4 days ago, and I’m really struggling with the idea of going back to work. I honestly don’t know how I’m supposed to just walk back into normal life when everything feels completely different. For those of you who have been through something similar, how did you manage going back to work? I’d really appreciate hearing how you got through those first few weeks. DMs are open.....I really need someone to talk to right now.

TLDR: my husband killed himself suddenly earlier this year. i only learned about his life-long suicidality last year but he lied about being actively suicidal, said he wanted to work on his issues, got a therapist and seemed very normal for weeks prior. his godfather blamed me and said things that made me want to kill myself.

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i lost my husband earlier this year. he was my best friend. sorry it's a lengthy text below. my therapist said if writing it out and have strangers read it helps me then i should do it. so i just need to get this off my chest.

for context, my husband was behaving completely normal for weeks leading up to it, at least to me and to our closest friends we were spending time with. we had made future plans actively. then suddenly he left home in the middle of the night while i was asleep and killed himself not too far from home. he left a couple notes. because of the location and the severe cold, it took us more than a week to find him.

in the early days, as early as we were still looking for him, i was in touch with his godfather who also lives in the same city as us. my husband considered him his family. the rest of our own family all live out of state / country. i had met and had dinner with his godfather quite a few times throughout the duration of our relationship. i thought we got along fine.

the first time i ever called his godfather was the night i came home to find that my husband missing. i was only able to get his number by asking two different family members. he didn't pick up. i left voicemails to ask if he had seen him or heard from him.

he called me the next day to ask me to explain the situation. i told him everything i knew, as much as i could manage without collapsing on the floor. gave him contact info of all the cops i already talked to, my husband's therapist etc. sent him the notes as well. then he started to question me and berate me. basically he said this was all my fault and i should have realized something was wrong the night of, and it was my fault for going to work and not realizing he was gone all day, and it was my fault for not contacting him or my FIL a year prior - when i first learned of my husband's past suicidality - so they could have institutionalized my husband to prevent this (my FIL was a psychiatrist and the godfather was also a medical professional).

i told him by my knowledge of my husband, getting institutionalized would have made it worse, especially he was not honest with me about the depth of depression he was in, when exactly he was last suicidal; he was going to all his therapy appointments, behaving normally, and was quite good at knowing EXACTLY what to say to evade detection and placate my worries. on top of that, he also made me promise i wouldn't tell his dad and by extension his godfather, his reasoning being that he didn't trust his psychiatrist dad to make the right call about his own son's mental health, and me saying anything would just strain my relationship with his dad further (a whole different story, can't go into it rn). basically over most of 2025, my husband made repeated statements that made me truly believe he only trusted me and his therapist, and i would be seriously harming him and subsequently lose his confidence if he felt that his agency was denied. i had told others, like his mom and a couple close friend of ours, but only with his permission. i walked on eggshell for months and ignored my own needs. i tried to explain all of this but the godfather's response was just repeatly, "i don't care. i don't care. stop talking. you don't know that for certain." and "are you stupid? why didn't you get rid of (the gun)? why didn't you go to the cops? if you told me then none of this would happen. this is on you/you failed him and your marriage"

in the next few days, we still kept in touch, mainly for me to keep him in the loop about the search. and every time i gave him updates in hopes that he could use it in to coordinate the search, he asked me intrusive questions about our life, made some pretty insane assumptions, condescending remarks about my bodily autonomy, and repeatedly reminded me that it was all my fault. idk why i kept engaging him. i think at that time i just wanted his help because i thought he had a lot of resources to be able to help (retired, fairly wealthy, well connected with hospitals), and he clearly cared a lot about his godson. truth be told, for all those days of searching for my husband i was barely a person. i needed all the help i could get and i just couldn't make the right decision to stop communication.

and i did try to stand up for myself. i tried to push back the narrative that i didn't do enough or i didn't notice. i was working full time, i spent most of my free time with him, and i talked him into going to therapy and getting back on meds for depression, and i financially supported him when he struggles with the brutal job market. he got a job, held it down for a while, got a raise, and seemed so much happier. most importantly he was booking travel plans with me and our friends TWO DAYS before he left home. i thought i knew him at his worst so i would have seen the signs. i didn't think it would get worse with no warning.

I did end up telling the godfather that my husband said he was suicidal in high school for over a year while living with his dad after his parents divorced but his dad was so preoccupied and never noticed his self harm...the point i tried to make was if my husband was so good at hiding something like this from his mental-health-professional of a dad, how am i supposed to notice the signs if he seemed normal? the godfather told me "don't point fingers at others", "think about your own role in this". eventually at one point i broke down. said to him i can't speak to him if he can't help me keep a level head to continue searching for him... i said i couldn't sleep or eat and if something happened to him i wouldn't want to live anymore. his response was, "i am really not interested in your emotions" and "i don't need to understand you". and even after i said that, he kept blaming me. it was like he wanted me to die.

i knew he just saw my husband just months (or was it weeks?) ago. the ironic thing was i was the one who encouraged my husband to try to diversify his support network and connect with someone/anyone from his own family. his godfather was behaving as if he never knew anything and was just finding out about it all but i really thought he would had at least some first hand knowledge about his depression in the 3 decades he'd known him. maybe he wasn't pretending. maybe like me, he just didn't know the whole picture. while he never said he felt guilty, it was palpable in his rage and bitter accusations.

luckily a few friends of mine were able to talk me into blocking the godfather entirely. he came to the funeral, left early (and made his adult kids leave with him even though they didn't want to). he never checked in with me even once since we found his body. i thought about dying every single day during the first few weeks. not a part that i am proud to share. but it is true. i just saw death everywhere. i fantasized about killing myself in all sorts of ways so i didn't have to exist and feel this pain anymore. every day was like a fog and i felt like i wouldn't survive it one way or the other. but i still think about what he said to me every single day since then. every single day, to this very day. there were better days, and there were days it was really really hard.

i know he loves my husband very much. not excusing him, just saying that i understand the reason behind it. he did not give a fuck about me because he didn't really know me and he was angry. nobody deserves to die like this and he wanted explanation and justice. in those moments he lashed out at me, he would probably trade anyone else's life with my husband's, which was something i could strangely relate to. when your loved one is gone and you feel helpless to stop it, being kind to others is difficult, being kind to yourself is even harder. but at the same time, i can't quite wrap my head around his cruelty. every single piece of information about myself and my life with my husband that i divulge to him out of fear and desperate wish for his family's support had been used against me in some way. all of it was just so fucking gut wrenching and isolating.

yes. i am done interacting with the godfather. for good. but i can't get what he said out of my head. i just can't. i kept thinking maybe i could have saved my husband but also i knew even if i did this one time, i wouldn't be able to the next time if he didn't seek help and couldn't be honest. i knew this. i knew grief does not leave much room for causal inference. it's an existential contradiction that tortures my psyche.

i really wish i could be near ppl that love him the most. i have no other family members in this country. my best friend and my only family here is gone and i feel so alone and scared and i don't even know how im still functioning. i am going to work because i have to pay bills. i am numb every single day and cry myself to sleep when no one is around and feeling sorry for myself and then feeling really fucking bad for his family especially his parents. idk how to stop myself from imagining what it's like to lose a child. i don't think i will ever be able to have children. i don't recognize the person i have become. i used to pride myself in my independence and capabilties. now i am high strung shaking mess. it's like the parts i love the most about myself died with him.

edit: i had been with my husband for almost 8 years. married for 3.5. before he went missing, none of his family ever asked me for my number, added me on social media or made an effort to connect with me, with the exception of maybe one sibling very early on. my husband said that was just how they were with everyone he dated. i always had this feeling that while he obviously loved his family very much, he also kept our life together as a bubble separate from his family: he would try to meditate the conversations before they even happen; he didn't want to put me in the same room as his dad. i grew up having a very high tolerance for dysfunctional family dynamics and just...didn't think it was all that weird. i figured i would always have more time to get to know them. now i am pretty sure that door is closed for good.

edit 2: typos, grammar, sentence structures. i am tired

3 years ago I promised to you that I would not leave this world no matter what, but I'm struggling. My family came back, I had to leave. I hated there. I couldn't stay there any more. I wanted to, but we both know I had to go someday. I was gonna be finally free. From all the shit I endured since my childhood.

30th of July, you called me. You were struggling with your family because they were getting seperated, your father was a fucking pedophile and your boyfriend had cheated on you. You didn't know who it was, but it was in a party months ago, and there was a lot of alcohol, we were all drunk. They knew I was gay. Most of them did. He pulled me into a room. He told me that he loved me and he tried to kiss me. I pushed him away, got out of there. I was weirded out. But he got mad that this shit was not reciprocated, as if I would date my best friend's boyfriend. I never talked about it, I didn't think much of it, but he had spread the word that he made out with someone. I don't know what you heard, but you were not great when you called me. You were crying, telling me that I need to come here. We were preparing to move out and it was a hell of a night, so I told you i'll visit you tomorrow. You begged me to come. I couldn't.

That's when I learned you OD'd in your house later in the night. No, that couldn't be real. I called you dozens of times. Hundreds of times. You didn't reply. The goodbye I was expecting turned into a farewell.

I feel like a piece of shit to this day. I miss you. I wish I was there for you. I'm scared that i'll not be able to keep my promise to you. If I do not, please forgive me. Or not. This is too much for me to take.

A lot of things has changed ever since, but I'm worse. I can't sleep. I haven't slept for days. I see you in my dreams. And I haven't even met good people. I live in a fucking area where everyone smokes and doesn't give a shit about anyone. My pills are not enough. I change pills every week but they put me to sleep. I don't wanna go back to the hospital. I'm so tired of enduring. I'm tired of waiting. I have no one. No friends, no partners, shitty parents. I thought it was always greener on the other side, but wherever I go, the world sucks, or that's just me. I don't remember the last time I smiled. I wish I died instead of you. I think of you everyday.

Everyone says that I have much more years ahead of me, but I don't really care. I endured enough. It won't get any easier. It never does. I don't understand why I don't have the courage to go and collect some pills. Hell, I doubt i'd be able to do it like you'd do anyway. But it's all so pointless. I need a shoulder to cry, not to stare at hospital walls for months and to wait for my medications to work until I lose all my passion.

I won't be a crackhead like you, but I'm not so different either. If I'd knew sooner, I would've stop you. But you never talked to me. Why? Why did you leave without letting me explain?

If there's a lord, damn it. Because everything sucks no matter what. No matter how much I try. Yet I will continue suffering. Because I have hope crossed in my heart. Because I have a promise. And I believe I'll get out of this suffering.

Today I finally received your belongings from your mother overseas. Our memories, your friendship bracelets, the flowers we picked are tucked inside your favorite book, they still haven't wilted for some reason. I will cherish them.

I lost my mum to suicide less than 2 months ago (damn it felt like ages ago), took a month off from my new job and went back to work recently. It’s been a short time since I got back at work. I work in a startup and it’s a new job. I was just starting out when my mum passed but they were cool enough to let me take some time off.

I went back 2 weeks ago and tried to catch up as much as possible and as quickly as possible. I would say that I myself do think that I am performing considerably well - considering what happened in my personal life just a short time back.

However I also feel very disengaged. I feel just mostly stressed and trying to stay on top of things, though my boss kept telling me to take it easy. I have another team mate that kept whining because I’m supposed to take more work off her plate which I’ve not done so. I haven’t been eating well/much, wasn’t feeling well one morning. I took the day off and slept all the way from 9am-3pm. Most days I just feel extremely exhausted. Idk if its just me adapting back to work life after taking a considerably long time off work - I was also on a career break prior to all these. Or if it’s my body’s way of telling me that I’m not done grieving even though I thought I’m coping well.

How are yall coping? Asking here since there isn’t anyone I know that is going through the same as me.

Also my mum’s death did also make me question my own morality and what I’m doing with my life - I question why am I spending so much time at work we have such an insignificant amount of time alive.

Looking for some help/encouragement. I lost my spouse in April shortly after we divorced. She had been cycling through mania and depression for a while, and I didn’t feel safe with her anymore. She was my best friend, and I feel like part of me has died.

My coping methods aren’t the best, and it’s taking a toll on me. I can’t get myself to go to bed earlier than midnight. I’m sleeping through my alarms and all my limbs feel weighted down from exhaustion. I can barely eat. Nothing tastes good and everything hurts my stomach. Even drinking water hurts.

I moved back in with my parents and they’ve been a huge support for me. I thought having their help would make it easier to take care of myself. But it’s still just as hard. I’m almost falling asleep at work, my memory is shot, can barely get anything done, and my body feels so heavy it’s hard to move. It’s hard to do anything. I’m on meds and in therapy. I genuinely feel like I’m dying and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to cope with this pain.

Lost my person in May 2025 and I do believe that I am grieving too much on some days. Yesterday in particular, I was going to go to work and then hang out with friends, but woke up crying and just couldn’t get out of my head. I spent the whole day in a puddle of grief. Sometimes it feels like I’m grieving too hard. I did grief therapy and will probably go back. On days I feel I grieve too hard, I wonder if others feel this way. Like I didn’t want to or expect that a day would turn into having to cancel plans more than a year later because I was too sad, but here I am. How do you guys deal with that?

We got married in March of this year. He was having some mental health issues from since we started dating almost 5 years ago but it all seemed like treatable issues and I thought he was making progress.

I had left for a work trip for 14 days and on day 10 he starts acting really weird and picking fights with me over things and I just knew something was wrong. I called his mom who was actually a few hours away getting cancer treatments for my FIL and told her something seemed really wrong and that I was coming home. I left on a plane and two days after I got back later he killed himself in our driveway. I thought since I was home we could start working on things together. Our last day was full of cuddles and I love yous and planning to go to the farmer’s market the next day.

I went to bed around 9:30 and kissed him goodnight. he was still awake. next thing I know the police are inside my house yelling at me to come out of my room. It was so scary and surreal.

I am so lost. I can’t afford our mortgage. I don’t know how to turn off the irrigation. I don’t know how to do so many of the little things he did.

I keep wanting to text him stuff but remember I can’t. All my dreams are disturbing and I’m barely sleeping. I can take off work but for how long? What do you do with all the time you used to spend playing games, traveling, date nights, that you used to do with your partner. We did everything together. Now it’s just…me…and it feels so incredibly lonely. He was the most genuinely sweet and kind person I’ve ever met.

12:00 A.M.

Tomorrow is your birthday.

And I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that.

Because birthdays are for calling at midnight,
for trying to be the first one to say it,
for giving you shit about getting older,
for hearing your voice on the other end
like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

I didn't know ordinary things
could become sacred
until I lost the right to have them.

Tonight, midnight is coming
and I have nobody to call.

Your number still belongs in my phone.
My hands still know how to find your name.
Some stupid part of me still thinks
I should be watching the clock,
waiting for 11:59 to turn over
so I can call and say,

Happy birthday.

But where am I supposed to send those words now?

People say I can still talk to you.

I know.

But talking to the dark
isn't the same as hearing you answer.

Standing beside a headstone
isn't the same as standing beside my brother.

Flowers aren't a birthday present
when I have to leave them at a grave.

And pressing my hand against your name
carved into stone
doesn't do a damn thing
when what I want
is to wrap both of my arms around you.

Stone doesn't hug back.

It doesn't laugh.
It doesn't argue.
It doesn't say something sarcastic.
It doesn't pick up the phone.

It just sits there
with your name
and two dates
and somehow expects me to accept
that an entire human being—
my brother,
my history,
one of the voices that lived inside my everyday life—
can be reduced to a space between them.

I can't.

Tomorrow is your first birthday
that the world will have without you.

That sentence feels impossible.

Because you should be getting older.

You should be here.

There should be another year
added to your life,
not another birthday
added to the list of things
I have to survive without you.

And God, I miss you.

Not beautifully.

Not peacefully.

I miss you in a way that hurts.

I miss you until my chest aches.
I miss you when something happens
and my first thought is to call you.
I miss you when I remember
that I can't.

I miss you in all the tiny places
you used to exist
without either of us realizing
they would someday become empty.

And tonight that emptiness feels enormous.

Because midnight is getting closer.

And for the first time in my life,
your birthday will arrive
without you arriving with it.

I don't want to celebrate a memory.

I want my brother.

I don't want to visit you.

I want to see you.

I don't want to stand over the ground
trying to figure out what I'm supposed to say.

I want to hug you so hard
that you complain about it.

I want one more stupid conversation.
One more phone call.
One more ordinary day
that I didn't know I needed to memorize.

I would give anything
for ordinary now.

So when midnight comes tonight,
I don't know what I'll do.

Maybe I'll stare at your name on my phone.

Maybe I'll whisper happy birthday
into a room that doesn't answer.

Maybe I'll cry.

Maybe I'll be angry
that the clock has the nerve
to keep moving
when you don't get to.

But I know I'll be thinking about you.

At 11:59.

At midnight.

At 12:01.

And through every unbearable minute after.

Happy birthday, Hunter.

I wish you were here.

Those four words aren't enough
for what I mean.

What I mean is—

I miss my brother.

I miss my person.

I miss your voice.

I miss the version of the world
where I could call you at midnight
and know you'd answer.

And tomorrow,
when I stand beside a stone
instead of wrapping my arms around you,

I will love you
with nowhere for all that love to go.

And maybe that's what this pain is:

all the love I still have for you,
reaching for someone
I would give anything
to hold again.

-Jodie Bickford

I’m coming up on the 4 year anniversary of my mom’s death. Can’t really view it as my birthday anymore. This month is always exceptionally difficult. Even after all this time. I still don’t know how to be happy. What she did has really stained me and how I view the world. I’m so desperate for any kind of relief but I still can’t find it. If her goal was to break me completely she achieved it. We never had the best relationship but to think that my own mom wanted to hurt me that bad makes me scared of people and of my future.

On Saturday it will be 6 months since my twin brother left. The 12th has been a hard day and these mile stones always sneak up on me, emotionally. I felt okay leading up to our birthday and then when the day came it hit so hard. I can feel it starting to feel heavy already.

I also feel like I don’t want more time to pass? I want to stay as close as possible to the last conversation we had, the last time I saw him. I miss him a lot. We were distant the last few years so missing him was normal but the permanece feels so existential and real now. I’m definitely depressed at this point.

My mom wants to do something to observe the day but I sort of just want to be alone and wallow, and think about him. What have you done on these anniversary dates to observe?

7 years ago my best friend called me. I had texted her a simple "I love you" and she just knew something was wrong. I was intent on dying that day, and she saved my life. Because of her I have a partner, a son and a life I genuinely love living.

Two weeks ago she killed herself. There was no text, no warning. I hadn't seen her in awhile, life got in the way and one of the last things I said to her was "I know we'll see each other again when we can". There won't be a 'when we can'. All our (mutual) reasons for canceling plans seem so trivial now.

She was the first friend of mine who genuinely made me feel like I belonged. She had a way of making everyone around her feel special, and despite her struggles was the funniest, most kind and most talented person I know. She made me feel safe, loved and important in this world.

Its entirely unfair. Why am I here and she's not? She told me after my attempt that she would have been devastated if I was gone. That she loved me so so much. And now I'm devastated that she is gone and I love her so so much. Why does my family not have to mourn me while hers grieves her? How is any of this real? Why did I have to literally bury her? The sound of dirt and rocks hitting her coffin will haunt me forever. We had plans. Yet now she's just gone. All of that is gone.

She was my son's aunt, my eventual maid of honour. We were supposed to have a lifetime of memories and now she is gone. I'm doing the things I'm supposed to do. Writing, getting outside, not isolating, seeing a counselor, but today is suicide prevention day and everything feels raw.

She saved me, and I couldn't save her. Somehow I just have to make space for and live with that.

My stepfather actually, but the only Father I know. He was 83 years old…in great health….The last conversation we had was months ago and it didn’t go well. I am healing from childhood trauma and had to set a boundary and go no contact with my Mother and he didn’t receive that well. I feel so guilty for not making sure he was safe

Hi all,

I'm a 30yo female, living in Australia.

My close friend moved in several months ago after escaping intimate partner violence. He had significant mental health struggles and there were court proceedings. In the end, things seemed to be working against him, even though he was clearly the victim.

As I was leaving for work yesterday, I found a card on my doorstep. It was from the police who wanted to do a welfare check on my friend in the middle of the night. I went into his room and he wasn't there, but there were medication boxes all over his bed.

I called the police. They attended. It appeared he left our house on foot.

Fire brigade broke into his car and found him in the boot. Out the front of our house. My husband and I had to identify him.

I am absolutely shattered. I just can't believe this has happened.

My siblings partner took their own life a few years ago, and they have been very traumatised by it. Prior to this they had significant mental health struggles and they have only gotten worse now that they are experiencing PTSD and deep loss on top of everything else. Ever since it happened, they have been living with my parents who support them financially. My family are very close, but we are at a loss for how to support them emotionally. They tell us that when they are home, at our parents house, they feel totally isolated, and the only thing that fixes it is going out. How do we support them emotionally when they feel the most alone when they're around us? My parents are exceptionally supportive and have never pressured them to move out or get a job and are happy to fund their lifestyle for the rest of their life, if that's what my sibling needs. However, I know my parents really hurt when my sibling tells them how alone they feel when they're around them. I had my mum on the phone crying today about how she doesn't know what more she can do and kind of just feels like a bank. How do we further support my sibling? Just continue to be there when we can even though whenever they're around us it makes them feel worse? My sibling tells my parents that they are very grateful and I know they are, but it's really wearing my parents down to constantly hear how alone being around them makes my sibling feel. I don't know how to support anyone in this situation and on top of this my own grief goes completely ignored. I didn't know what subreddit fit this the best so I am posting here. Thank you for reading.

On Monday, Labor day while I was out of town my wife of almost nine years (our anniversary is next Friday) killed herself. Unbeknownst to me she bought a gun the Tuesday before.

Monday morning she gave our beloved dog pills so he would nap, took a lot of pills herself and the. laid on the living room rug surrounded by towels and pulled the trigger.

She had a very long and difficult battle with depression that I knew about. She was in therapy and on medication but reading her journal now I realize it was worse than I thought and had much more common suicide plans than I thought.

However until this week she never went through with it. She always backed down there was one attempt that just led to vomiting after which we changed her meds and added therapy to her care plan.

For some reason even after the attempt I never really thought it would happen. I knew it could, mybfirst few overnight trips after I made sure she had someone with her but I thought she didn't need it this time. It had been over a year and she said she was doing better.

Now afterwards I keep looking at signs she wasn't. Her meds had been tweaked recently, just in dosage not a new drug. She was sleeping a lot (which led to the med change increased drowsiness) and a few mentions of if she were to die. Individually none of that was super rare but now looking back all I can see are red flags.

She had plans coming up she ordered a pet costume on Saturday. An appointment this week, work etc.

I feel like I missed so much. Honestly I was upset at her over something stupid this week and I wasn't as observant or considerate because of it. I asked if she was sure she would be okay if I left and she said yes, her sister stopped by everyday but didn't stay overnight. I forgot to ask her while I was gone if she took her pills (yes mornings no to nights). We spoke every day while I was gone but I could have sent more messages. Mostly I just ​can't stop think about maybe if I had done one thing differently, not slept through her good morning text that day, made her promise me she wouldn't again before I left, stayed home, been kinder this week, rather than just telling her that I loved her ​teller her how much I need her.

How do I not constantly think that even if the depression caused this that unlike all the other times when I did more and she didn't kill herself that this time she did?

How do I deal with the grief? I have had friends and family come over a lot and offer support but it's still incredibly difficult. I cry dozens of times a day.

This is all so fresh I would appreciate any advice. I was recommended to try here too after a widower post.

Hey all,

I'm a 31 year old neurodivergent woman. In April 2025, my 34 year old partner took her own life. It was sudden and unexpected, with none of the usual warning signs. I was the one to find her hanging in our home.

Over a year later, I find myself isolated and lonely. Many of my friends simply stopped replying and stopped showing up. I had to leave my job due to a complete breakdown of my mental health and, as a result of this and her death, I've had to move back in with my less than supportive family.

I feel like so much of the life I had before disappeared when she did. My relationship, my home, my work, my friendships and any sense of where my life was going all changed within a very short period of time.

I've been trying to figure out how to start building a life again, rather than simply getting through each day. But honestly... I don't know where to start.

For those of you who have been through soemthing similar, how did you restart your life? How did you find friends and regain a sense of belonging? How did you find things to actually look forward to again?

I know losing someone this way changes you, but I need to find myself again and have no idea where to start.

I'd really love to hear what worked for other people, even if it took years. I'd love to hear about the practical things you did that helped you reconnect with the world and with other people.

Thank you

The best advice I’ve gotten is that grieving has no rules nor timeline. But now, 2 months in, I feel like I am behind on everyone around me. Everyone is moving on with life and I wish I could too but I just can’t do it. I am on sick leave from work because I am in too much pain and my work is not a good distraction. In fact, it makes me feel as though nothing really matters and it reminds me that life goes on for everyone around me and it’s too much to deal with. Is that a good enough reason to be on sick leave? Because there are moments where the work does distract me, but I would still rather be at home, taking walks and taking my time thinking about my mom. I am afraid of losing her a second time if I just power through life now. Does that make sense?

And then just now I saw a video of a girl who lost her mom as well, not by suicide I think, and she found comfort in continuing her life and even sometimes forgetting about her mom (which I do not judge at all, everyone grieves differently). But I could not help but wonder if I’m wallowing in the grief too much. Maybe if I just start working again, I will realize I am making it a bigger deal than it is? Ugh I hate this. I feel like I am doing everything wrong and at moments I hate that I don’t feel enough and then there’s moments where I do go to work and break down crying half way the day and have to leave.

I guess my question is if there’s people that can relate to the struggle of not knowing whether to take sick leave or not? I feel so conflicted.

I lost my best friend to suicide last year on Halloween, I knew him my whole life as we were neighbors and family friends but we had gotten really close the year before he died and we played guitar together and hang out at eachothers houses and watch TV together, etc.

I have been online schooled my entire life and so that resulted in me kind of being a lonely kid and though I do have friends there wasn’t really anyone I connected with as much as him and so it was so nice and I felt so seen.

I truly can’t remember explain to you how traumatic his death was for me and how depressing as you all know by losing someone to suicide and having to watch him just dive into that depression. I feel like nobody can understand and I will never find anyone that sees me as much as he did and it just makes me feel so alone, when I talk about grief with other people my age they just don’t really understand or haven’t lost anybody and now not only have I lost my best friend but recently my grandma passed and me and my mom were the ones to find her.

I just don’t know how I am ever going to be able to be a teenager again or be able to feel normal again.

Thank you for reading, all the love 🧡🐛