Suicide Prevention & Awareness Month By Ryan DeCosta

Suicide. A 3 syllable, 7 letter word that is not talked about. The moment it’s mentioned people turn the other cheek. They become uncomfortable and honestly believe it will cause suicide. Suicide isn’t a contagious word. It is a word that starts a conversation. A conversation that opens eyes to the reality of the pandemic of the final symptom of depression which is suicide. This word is preventable. This word deserves equality, love, and compassion just like any other symptoms of an illness. Over 12 years of my life I battled with this. I battled with endless hopelessness, a product of institutionalization in and out of psychiatric care watching the horrors of a broken system. The shame and stigma surrounding me led to barriers in my own healing, and setbacks that were life threatening. Suicide seen as attentioning-seeking, a choice, and selfish which is the very conversation used to talk about mental health. Those statements promote silence in the already internal battle that 1 in 3 people face, and that anyone you know could be heavily affected from this harmless dialogue that easily comes out of peoples mouths the moment someone is struggling. Many people talk about how “mental health matters”. But “mental health matters” until someone is actually struggling with their mental health. I emphasize so much on the reality of my story, losing someone I loved, and the society we live in because it is not uncommon, it is why we face these problems today, and ACTUALLY identifying the problem is the first step in changing policy, changing the conversation, saving lives while simultaneously sparring loved ones from the the unbelievable pain that comes from that loss. It is not impossible to dig yourself out of the trenches and go to the other side. I am living proof. I have had opportunities to create change in a variety of ways not only all over the state of Connecticut, but at National Levels. I found community, and purpose in advocacy. I urge the importance of spreading kindness and opening doors to opportunities for community within each other today. You may save the life of someone in this crowd, it may be something you needed today to get through or both. I wrote a poem I am going to share with you in honor of my best friend Dakota Rose who I knew almost my entire life that died by suicide on November 1st, 2022. Who faced unbelievable challenges she was struggling to navigate. Who loved unconditionally, who could make you laugh, could have in depth conversations, who was very, very loved especially by me. She did not get a funeral, did not get a celebration of life, and did not have a memorial, or even recognition. Those who have physically illnesses do, but more commonly then not those who have died by suicide do not get the recognition of life that they deserve due to the stigma and shame. But I recognize her everyday. I honor her here. I honor myself and my journey. I honor those currently struggling in silence, those who have conquered those obstacles, and I honor those who are no longer here. Dakota had multiple disabilities which increased her risk of suicide. Many times those with disabilities are overlooked. In young adults (without disabilities) it is the 3rd leading cause of death in North America. This is not only increasing but is even higher with those with disabilities. Many times those with disabilities are not recognized for having mental health struggles due to their overshadowing condition. Some factors that may lead to suicide attempts and deaths is: ● Lack of access to education or employment opportunities ● High rates of trauma, abuse and bullying ● Increased dependence on caregivers ● Impulsivity and emotional dysregulation ● Social exclusion and stigma For Dakota Rose (A Poem of Grief, Love, and Suicide Loss) The world was brighter when you grinned, A laugh like sunlight, wild and unpinned. You were the breeze that danced on summer’s edge, The quiet joy in each small pledge. But grief, it comes like autumn’s chill, A season too cold for hearts to fill. At 21, your spark went out too soon, Leaving us searching by the fading moon. No funeral, no flowers laid in line, No stories shared, no tears to unwind. You left quietly, no page to turn, No tribute for a soul to yearn. Yet the butterflies, oh, they flew to me— Delicate wings in a fall breeze, As if they knew your spirit still roamed, A silent whisper from a place unknown. And in my garden, roses bloomed— A love too deep for grief to consume. They held you, Dakota, in their quiet grace, A reminder of your light, your face. They say we don’t talk, it’s not allowed, The silence suffocates, the shame is loud. But your voice, it echoes through the night, A shout for change, a need for light. You were more than a loss, more than the pain, More than the words we cannot explain. And though you’ve gone, your love remains, A flame that burns in all our veins. Dakota Rose, you’re more than a scar— You are the shining, distant star. Your life deserves to be heard, to be seen, To be honored in a world so keen. The stigma must break, the walls must fall, For every soul who answers the call. Your name deserves to ring in the air, For all the love and light you shared. Rest now, dear friend, in skies so wide, in every sunset and sunrise. Your laughter lives in the wind’s sweet hum, And we will fight for you, until change comes.