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The loss of a loved one to suicide leaves an ache that words can barely touch. It’s natural to feel confused and overwhelmed, asking, “How could this happen?” or “Why didn’t they ask for help?” These questions are heavy and often unanswerable, but I want to share parts from my own story in the hope it might offer some clarity and compassion to those wrestling with this pain.
I have walked the road of suicidal thoughts and even attempts—one of which led to hospitalization in 1992. These struggles often felt like silent battles—unseen and unheard by those around me. What made it even harder was the absence of a clear reason for the intensity of my emotions. Despite walking a difficult road in life, for the most part, I could manage—until I couldn’t. Feelings of overwhelm would crash over me suddenly, like waves pulling me under, leaving me drowning in hopelessness and self-doubt.
For decades, I carried this burden alone, ashamed and confused by my emotions—especially because of my sincere faith in the Lord and trust in His Word. I couldn’t reconcile my belief in God’s promises with the persistent, heavy darkness that sometimes consumed me.
After years of struggling, I began to uncover a crucial piece of the puzzle: hormonal changes—specifically, the days leading up to my menstrual cycle—played a significant role in intensifying these feelings. Even on days when I could manage life’s challenges, these hormonal shifts often left me completely overwhelmed, questioning my worth, and yearning for relief.
This realization led me to an unsettling thought. I began to wonder if anyone was tracking where women were in their menstrual cycles when tragic stories surfaced in the news: women taking their own lives or harming their families. As shameful as it felt to admit, I began to have more compassion for these women when I thought about what might have pushed them to such extremes. While others judged them harshly or wondered, “How could she?” I saw the possibility of a woman silently struggling, overwhelmed by a darkness so deep it clouded her grasp on reality and perspective.
Understanding the biological connection between my cycle and my mental health didn’t fix everything, but it brought relief and clarity. It helped me recognize that my struggles weren’t a sign of weakness or failure but part of a larger, complex battle. Armed with this knowledge, I found the motivation to develop tools and strategies to help myself navigate these moments.
(Let me know if you’d like more information about specific steps I took to safeguard myself and my family during these difficult times.)
For those who haven’t experienced it, suicidal ideation can be hard to grasp. But it’s not about “giving up” or a lack of strength. It’s about trying to escape an emotional pain so intense that it feels unendurable.
In those moments, the mind narrows its focus to the immediate pain, silencing thoughts of hope or a brighter future. It’s not a rational choice but a desperate attempt to find relief.
It's also worth noting, as Children of God, we have an enemy who seeks to destroy us. Not all of our thoughts are our own thoughts. If we are not aware, or equipped, to know how to battle the thoughts in our mind - this can complicate our ability to recognize intrusive thoughts and lead to undesired behaviors externally.
(Again, let me know if you want me to expand further on this training that has helped me.)
This is why compassion matters so deeply. People in crisis need understanding, not judgment. For me, just knowing someone saw my pain and acknowledged it made a profound difference.
One of the most frustrating parts of my journey was feeling that people around me didn’t—or couldn’t—see my pain. I dropped hints, hoping someone would notice (ie. I wrote an entire paper in High School that pretty much spelled out my desire to die, and I laughed when my sweet English teacher graded it with an 80%, gave me feedback on my writings, but seemed to completely miss the HUGE CRY FOR HELP! I felt even more invisible and uncared about).
As an adult, when I would start to open up to friends or family about deep issues I was dealing with, I often heard responses like, “You need to talk to a counselor. I’m not qualified to help.”
I didn’t need someone to fix my problems or have all the answers. I needed someone to sit with me in the pain and let me know they saw me. I needed validation—an acknowledgment that what I was experiencing was real and hard.
Instead, their well-meaning responses often left me feeling more isolated. When someone says, “I’m not qualified,” it can sound like, “Your pain is too much for me to handle.”
What I needed was someone to say, “I may not know what to do, but I’m here for you.”
(And then I needed them to "be there".)
Here’s what I wished people had understood:
I Chose You for a Reason: When I opened up, it wasn’t random. I trusted you because you knew me. I wasn’t asking for expertise—I was asking for presence.
Validation is Everything: I didn’t need empty reassurances. I needed someone to look me in the eye and say, “I hear you. This sounds incredibly hard.”
Be in It With Me: I wasn’t asking for grand gestures. Small actions like looking up a phone number, sitting with me while I made a difficult call, or checking in consistently could have made all the difference.
Consistency Over Perfection: Silence left me to fill in the gaps with unkind stories about myself: “I’m too much. I’m unlovable. I’m a burden.” Imperfect but consistent support would have countered those lies.
As the world transitioned from phone calls to texts (especially around 2010), my sense of isolation grew. Texts often feel surface-level, lacking the depth of a voice on the other end of the line. For someone already feeling disconnected, this shift was devastating.
I longed for the days when conversations were rich and real, when people would pick up the phone rather than screening every call, and when a friend’s voice could remind me I wasn’t alone and I was worth her time to chat, even if it was a quick connection.
The convenience of modern communication often left me feeling more alone than ever. It wasn't hard for me to see how this transition was NOT accommodating those who were already suffering and being forced to adapt at a rapid pace to a world pushing online more superficial relationships over real, local, practical, loyal, and tangible relationships.
If someone you love is struggling, here’s what you can do:
Listen Without Judgment: You don’t need to have the perfect words. Just listening can be a lifeline.
Validate Their Feelings: Acknowledge their pain without minimizing it. Simple phrases like, “I hear you,” or “That sounds really hard,” can mean the world.
Offer Practical Support: Help carry the burden in small ways. Sit with them, research resources, or make calls alongside them. Ask, "How can I help?" "What can I do?" (I do know this feels scary because you may be afraid of what their need or ask is, and it truly may feel too big or too heavy for you; but, I encourage you to partner with the Holy Spirit and BOTH of you go to the Holy Spirit in prayer and ask for Divine solutions, directions, provisions, and pathways so that you helping is not burdensome but a true blessing for you both. Giving under compulsion is NOT Scriptural either. There are ways to GIVE that can fuel you both. Let God show and teach you on a case by case basis.)
Be Consistent: Check in regularly, even if it’s just to say, “I’m thinking of you.”, or "Here's a song that made me think of you", or " Here's a prayer I'm praying over you today."
Please do NOT ask "HOW ARE YOU?" For someone struggling, this is an overwhelming question and you likely will either be ignored or given a placated reply that doesn't show you the whole picture.
Encourage Professional Help: Therapy and other resources can be life-changing. Be a bridge, not a barrier, to those avenues of support. If you're going to refer him/her to a "therapist", please walk that journey with him/her until one who is fitting is found and in motion. Navigating finding and going to therapy offers a new set of challenges that can seem insurmountable when you are already overwhelmed just trying to keep up with daily life and even basic self-care.
To those who are struggling: I see you. I know how dark and endless it can feel, but I promise it’s not. There are people who care deeply about you, even if it doesn’t always feel that way.
You are not broken or unworthy—you are a person dealing with profound pain, and it is possible you are also in a state of hormonal fluctuations, imbalances, nutritionally deficient, and/or in a spiritual battle as well for your life and your legacy.
Let me know if you'd like me to send you a checklist of things to process before ever considering ending your life in one of these moments of deep anguish; ways you can safeguard yourself and hold on for the next day, week, or milestone you are looking forward to.
Someone once told me, "when you think you are at the end of your rope, stop trying to climb, just hang and don't let go". That visual helped me in that moment to give myself permission to stop "DOING" and just "BE".
Even Elijah was at the end of his rope, experiencing despair and hopelessness after an incredible spiritual victory, and the Angel told him to EAT CAKE of Bread (CARBS) and SLEEP! (1 Kings 19:4-6)
To everyone else: Be kind. Extend grace to those around you, even if you can’t see their struggles. Let’s commit to creating a world where no one feels ashamed to ask for help, and when they do - you listen, ask questions, and show up in the way they need.
Closing Thought
Sharing these experiences isn’t easy, or comfortable for many of us, but I hope it helps foster understanding and connection. Together, we can build a culture of compassion and care—one where people feel supported and seen, even in their darkest moments.
We must remove the stigma from words like depression, mental illness, bipolar, BPD, Zoloft, etc. In my "unprofessional" but real world, lived it, and love Jesus opinion - it all boils down to this:
We are human.
We need a Savior.
We need community and people around us who help us recognize BOTH of those things and help us give ourselves the grace we need while reaching for the Grace He offers while we are navigating this broken world full of toxins (externally and internally) that make that journey way more difficult when traveled alone.
Walk Blessed & Overflow it onto those around you.
♥ Rachelle Suzanne King
Here is my Podcast Episode that goes into some of the details of my past experiences surrounding my teen years of wanting to end my life. I'm SO thankful I was not successful. I couldn't see then what I know now.
Extra Resource:
Here’s a comprehensive list of Bible characters who experienced feelings of hopelessness, despair, or even suicidal thoughts, along with God’s response to each situation:
These stories demonstrate that even when people feel hopeless, God’s response is never condemnation but comfort, provision, and the promise of His presence.