Voices of Samaritans - June 2020 Newsletter

Voices of Samaritans June 2020 Grateful. It’s a strange feeling to have in 2020, after all that we’re experiencing in the world today. But after watching our incredible staff pull together, seeing our amazingly selfless volunteers in action, experiencing my first Breakfast for Hope, and hearing directly from the people we serve that our services matter more than ever…how can I help but to feel gratitude?

In our annual Voices newsletter, we feature the stories of the people we serve: their experiences in their own words. I want to acknowledge the immense courage and strength it takes to share these personal stories, with the hope of helping and inspiring someone else.

In this newsletter, you’ll meet Maria, Olivia, and David – three suicide loss survivors who have become part of the Samaritans family in different ways. They exemplify the beautifully resilient spirit we so often see in our community. You’ll meet Xiadi, one of those selfless volunteers, and hear how she faced her apprehension about answering calls on our Helpline. These are the voices of Samaritans. And we couldn’t be more grateful.

Kathleen C. Marchi Executive Director

Inside this newsletter After losing her son to suicide, Maria finds comfort at SafePlace meetings High school student and suicide loss survivor, Olivia, learns to help those who struggle Struggling with mental health issues and grief, David reaches out to our Helpline Xiadi overcomes her fear to become a volunteer on our Helpline

After losing her son to suicide, Maria finds comfort at SafePlace meetings Written by Maria Sallese, suicide loss survivor and SafePlace attendee On February 25, 2019, my son, Mario, died by suicide. Less than one month prior, we celebrated his 26th birthday at his favorite Chinese restaurant. He loved their buffet. We spent many birthdays at that restaurant and I smile thinking about the last one. He made us ice cream sundaes, even though no one wanted them. Boy, were they terrible! They didn’t even look appealing. The sundae bar left a lot to be desired, but he insisted we were having them. He could be very persistent that way. His lopsided sense of humor and impish grin still makes me smile.

It’s been just over a year now since he passed away, and although I don’t wish for that day to define me, it is a defining moment on so many levels. It’s a new beginning for me because I’m no longer the person I was. It’s not a new beginning that I celebrate and it certainly doesn’t come without obstacles; time being one of them. For every step forward I take, it feels like I’m leaving him one step behind. The passage of time makes the distance greater.

I look back and I still see him, and at the same time I can’t help but wonder if the distance will become so great that I can’t. I want to always see him on my horizon, not behind me, and so the new shape of my relationship with him is another new beginning because

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ceasing to have a relationship just isn’t an option. I choose to carry him with me into every day and everything I do; that’s how I keep him close. It’s not effortless and it’s not brave or courageous. For me, it’s a necessity. We always had a close relationship and I’m not able to let that go; I remind myself each day that I don’t have to.

I don’t wish for that day to define him either. The day he died is the day he lost his battle, but the fact that he died by suicide does not define who he was. He was a kind and loving soul who brought so much joy into so many lives. His

kindness was genuine and his compassion was from the heart.

He was never shy about saying “I love you” and he’d rather give you a hug over a handshake. His sense of humor was infectiously silly, raw, and, at times, uncensored. He truly was his biggest comedic fan! He’d struggle to finish a story sometimes because he thought he was so funny he could hardly get the words out. He also struggled with anxiety and depression. He was a bit of an empath. He carried the weight of the world and he worried about everything and everyone. I believe it all just got too heavy.

He carried the weight of the world and he worried about everything and everyone. I believe it all just got too heavy.

Maria Sallese and her son, Mario Miller, after climbing Mount Monadnock on Mother’s Day.

Voices of Samaritans 2020

Being a part of the Samaritans community has been an anchor for me this past year. The SafePlace meetings have been just that: a safe place to sit openly with my loss in the company of others who have lost someone to suicide. I remember my first meeting and how any fears I had about being there quickly dissolved. As soon as I sat down it was as though a weight was lifted. I felt no stigma; only a sad common bond. There was no need to mask or hide.

That was about four months after losing my son and I’ve not missed a meeting since. Listening to their shared experiences helps me navigate this unfamiliar place.

With the coronavirus temporarily changing how we socially connect, I’ll soon be attending my first virtual meeting. I continue searching for answers and understanding, and although there are questions I know I’ll never have the answers to, being there continues to help me process my grief.

Being involved in Samaritans’ events has also helped me.

Remembering Mario at the Annual Memorial and participating in the 5K last year were both healing experiences. Doing things in memory of Mario, being able to remember him publicly as opposed to silently, and having so many friends and family come together to remember him is something I don’t quite have the words for. I can only tell you the feeling. It’s the feeling

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you get when you hear someone say your loved one’s name out loud. When so many people come together to remember the so many people that we’ve lost, it’s as though their names are being shouted from the rooftops. For me, that was powerful. I’m already looking forward to the 5K again this year. Planning ahead for it is doing something for him.

I miss my boy. I miss him every minute of every day. I miss him as the son he always was, and I miss him as the man I always thought I’d watch him continue to grow and be. That will never change. I keep him on my horizon. That will never change. Remembering him and talking about him makes me smile.

That too, will never change.

Your support means loss survivors are comforted by their peers.

1,121 visits to SafePlace support groups

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Survivor to Survivor visits

Maria and Team 4 Mario pose for a group photo during our 2019 5K Run/ Walk for Suicide Prevention, where they walked and ran in honor of Mario.

Voices of Samaritans 2020

High school student and suicide loss survivor, Olivia, learns to help those who struggle Written by Olivia Weber, suicide loss survivor, annual 5K Run/Walk for Suicide Prevention participant,, and suicide prevention workshop attendee A few months ago I was able to attend one of Samaritans workshops at my school. As a high school student, I know the stress and anxiety school can put on students, including me.

In the 8th grade, I lost my dad to suicide after he lost his battle with mental illness. Since then, I have engaged in multiple programs with Samaritans, including the 5K, support groups, and workshops.

One of the amazing counselors in the access center at my high school reached out to me to take part in Samaritans’ workshop at my high school. I said yes! I was not sure exactly what to expect, but I was excited to learn about mental health and to be able to share my knowledge and experience with others. Mental illness and suicide can often be stigmatized. From my experience in high school, students often do not feel comfortable opening up about these struggles.

I was slightly nervous to go to the workshop, and I was not sure if it would trigger any emotions from my dad’s suicide. During the workshop, I felt relieved and excited that there were a large number of students wanting to Page 4

Olivia Weber places a ribbon on the Ribbon Wall in memory of her father Frederick Weber at our 2019 5K Run/Walk for Suicide Prevention. learn about mental health and Samaritans. In the workshop, we talked a lot about stress and anxiety, and how to not only cope with mental illness but also how to be there for others who are struggling.

We role-played with other students to develop the skills to help our friends and classmates who may be struggling with stress, depression, and other mental illnesses. It was a safe place to open up and ask

questions about topics that can sometimes be uncomfortable but are necessary to discuss.

One major thing I learned was different ways to speak to someone who is having suicidal thoughts, which can be very useful. I encourage all schools to have these workshops, not only for students but also for the staff, as it is extremely important to be able to help one another in difficult times.

I used to be embarrassed to be open about my dad’s suicide and mental illness, but I have since learned that a large number of people suffer the way my dad did. We must talk about it and break the silence on mental illness.

Voices of Samaritans 2020

Over time and with the help of Samaritans, I’ve learned to turn my tragedy into opportunity: an opportunity to educate people to see suicide victims as more than a statistic and de-stigmatize mental illness.

With family members and close friends that deal with mental health issues, I am able to apply what I have learned from the workshop and relay my experiences and knowledge. After experiencing the effects of mental illness with my dad, I began to educate myself more about suicide, depression, and mental health. Although I can no longer help my dad, I can help

those who suffer as he did and educate about the importance of these topics.

My dad was my world, and losing him tragically changed my life forever. But over time and with the help of Samaritans, I’ve learned to turn my tragedy into opportunity: an opportunity to educate people to see suicide victims as more than a statistic and de-stigmatize mental illness.

I used to be embarrassed to be open about my dad’s suicide and mental illness, but I have since learned that a large number of people suffer the way my dad did.

We must talk about it and break the silence on mental illness.

Your support means communities are educated on suicide prevention.

17,596 people reached at workshops and awareness events

445 community workshops

Join us for our first ever virtual 5K on September 26, 2020! samaritans5K.org Olivia, her mother, and sister patiently await awards results at the 2018 5K Run/Walk for Suicide Prevention.

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Voices of Samaritans 2020

Struggling with mental health issues and grief, David reaches out to our Helpline Written by David Cohen, suicide loss survivor, 5K participant, and user of our 24/7 Helpline In life, there are a number of us who still find it difficult to be ourselves and speak from the heart. We live in a culture that encourages concealing, and the pressure to keep ones feelings concealed can be made into a double whammy if they have a mental illness thrown in the mix. Of course, there are people who are able to speak their truth regardless. I believe with the help of an organization like Samaritans, we could see a rise in the number of people who are able to open up about what’s inside of them and, in turn, reduce the number of families who experience what my family experienced: a tragic loss to suicide.

There is no way to describe that kind of loss of someone so close to you.

They were in your life, you loved them, you talked to them, went out with them, texted with them, and then… they were just not in your life anymore and they won’t ever be again. That is something that I will live with for the rest of my life — or rather, that I’ll try to accept. I can’t hug him. I can’t be with him. I can’t share new music. I can’t even enjoy the simple, innocent activity of relaxing and watching a funny movie with him while eating some salty snacks. I wonder what was going during his life — what could he have been hiding during this situation or that one. But the worst part? Our family, like many

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others, will never get an answer. Any answer is just gone, along with him.

This became the reality of my family on February 17, 2018, when we lost my oldest brother, Michael.

After Michael’s death, my family sought out grief support. My parents found a support seminar for suicide loss survivors centering on managing your emotions after such a loss, run by Samaritans. This was the first time that I had heard about the organization. A few months later, I was walking with one of my friends along the Charles River when she told me that she was thinking about doing the Samaritans 5K Run/Walk for Suicide Prevention that year. When I heard her say that, it was almost like a “why

not?” kind of moment. I thought it would be a great way to get involved and to do my part.

During the summer of planning, fundraising, and learning about Samaritans, I started using their 24/7 Helpline. Before I knew about Samaritans, I would call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. I would actually get connected to Samaritans through there. During my prep for the 5K, I would contact them directly as I learned that their Helpline offered a texting option. I became more familiar with Samaritans, to the point where they became almost like a second home. I can’t help but imagine what they could have done for my brother in his time of need.

These issues have piled up and led to the development of depression. When episodes set in, I text Samaritans’ Helpline.

Samaritans’ former Executive Director, Steve Mongeau, congratulates David Cohen (right) as top individual fundraiser at the 20th Annual 5K Run/Walk for Suicide Prevention.

Voices of Samaritans 2020

Your support means people who are in need of a listening ear are befriended.

David (left) with his parents and siblings, including his brother Michael (third from the left), pause for a quick smile and family photo.

Samaritans’ Helpline has helped me out of distress on a number of occasions. This is distress caused by short-term and long-term effects from a multitude of psychological challenges that I have faced from both the loss of my brother to suicide and from my own mental health issues I have lived with for my whole life. I have dealt primarily with anxiety (generalized and social), obsessive compulsive disorder, and learning disabilities impacting both my social and academic performance. These issues have piled up and led to the development of depression. When episodes set in, I text Samaritans.

I have thought about how it would be cool if you could buy a little cube that, with the press of a button, unfolds into your own little space where you could go in and unload your emotions and pain without anyone seeing or hearing.

The Helpline feels almost exactly like that for me. It is one phone call or text away. When I reach out to them, I feel at ease. The Helpline’s anonymous nature makes it okay Page 7

for someone to say what’s on their mind. You can have a needed temper tantrum without fear of developing a “reputation” — the fear you might feel if you constantly went to the same people in your life for support. There are not many places where one can really do that these days. I feel almost lighter after the call or text than I did before dialing, as one can unload emotional baggage that may have even been piling up for years. I feel relieved, like I can actually move on with life.

There is also a very important added bonus for people like me who live with learning disabilities impacting their conversational processing speed. With a text option that allocates you more time for a conversation than a phone call, it makes it easier to formulate exactly what you want to say to a Helpline volunteer so that they can respond in ways that will help you the most.

I have lived with the challenge of not always being able to effectively self-advocate because of this, and it is very refreshing and comforting to

74,588 calls, texts, and chats answered from people who are struggling

know that Samaritans has an outlet that would work even for people who fall under this category. It is important that a resource like this stays around for people like me and for everyone else, including those who, for whatever reason, might not be able to attend therapy.

If you are reading this and in distress of any level, please know that there is nothing wrong with you. You did not do anything to deserve the state that you are in and there are volunteers on the Helpline and throughout Samaritans waiting to help you. It may feel impossible to even lift up your fingers and type in the number and that is okay. It may not be all you have to do to feel better, but speaking your truth and opening up is the first step to helping you out of your suffering, and you can speak that truth when you are ready to do so. Samaritans is here when you are.

Voices of Samaritans 2020

Xiadi overcomes her fear to become a volunteer on our Helpline

Written by our Helpline volunteer, Xiadi Zhai, pictured above (right) with her parents at the 20th Annual 5K Walk/Run for Suicide Prevention I never realized how uncomfortable mental health conversations were for me until an eighth-grade holiday concert, when a friend pulled me aside to make a personal confession of struggle with depression and self-harm. My unpreparedness and unease at the forefront of my mind, it dawned on me that I had neither the knowledge nor the skills to offer the support that I wanted to. All I had was a desperate desire to help, and I found myself frustrated with my quiet and uncertain reaction.

A few months later, this conversation still on my mind, I attended the annual Samaritans 5K as a volunteer.

I immediately felt welcomed into the community; the people were warm and energetic, and the entire atmosphere was one of positivity.

As much as I enjoyed the event, however, I realized that I hadn’t Page 8

gained what I had sought in the first place. Although suicide and mental illness became slightly less intimidating and conversation became slightly less uncomfortable, I was unprepared to talk to someone struggling with mental illness. I still wasn’t able to offer support to others like I wished I could.

Signing up as a “Befriender” for Samaritans’ 24/7 Helpline was immensely intimidating. Once I reached fifteen, the minimum age to work on the crisis line, I found many excuses to push back my participation: I was too busy, I wasn’t ready, I was already involved in the community. I couldn’t imagine myself sitting in a phone room, listening to and engaging with callers; the truth was that I was terrified. I imagined myself failing to do what I wanted so badly to do, and I had to repeatedly remind myself that my discomfort was exactly why I was tackling this.

I built up my courage incrementally, and soon learned that despite all my doubts, I was in the right place.

I learned to admire the tone of someone’s voice over vocabulary, and discovered the power of simple compassion and concern. From listening to callers, I also learned how to listen to myself and how to practice self-care. Talking to callers on the Helpline has helped me more than I could have ever imagined.

Through calls, I have seen situations worse than I could have ever believed, but I have also learned how resilient the human spirit is. Some calls have described deeply painful and horrific experiences, and others have illuminated my heart with hope and faith. Often, the presence of someone over the phone is enough, and it is empowering and humbling that I can be that person for some.

I used to think back to that encounter with my friend and run through responses which might have been better than my silence. In a way, I am grateful for that discomfort, because it led me to where I am now: since starting college, I have joined a peer counseling group, practicing befriending and growing more confident. I have volunteered as a camp counselor for Camp Kesem and found myself relying on previous training to talk to campers about disputes and worries. Moreover, I have felt a huge difference not only in the way I converse with friends, professors, and strangers, but in the way which I converse with myself in times of anxiety and stress. Learning to listen to others has taught me, unexpectedly, ways to self-regulate and listen to myself, skills which I previously overlooked. Samaritans has brought me such a long way, and it brings me great joy to know that I always feel I have a home in the phone room at 33 West Street, no matter the time of day.

Voices of Samaritans 2020