Wednesday 13th March 2024 will leave an indelible mark on our family’s life. Sadly, my daughter’s 22-year-old cousin, Alex Conley, ended her life from the pain that became a suicide. The ripple effect was momentous, with so many impacted emotionally. The lives of Alex’s parents and those closest to her will never be the same again.
I often find that pain follows the laws of physics in as much as we recompense in equal measure to the pain experienced, whether that is positively or negatively. Alex family started to ask the positive questions many who are bereaved by suicide ask… “What can we do to change this, so it doesn’t happen to any other family?” Alex was a property investor, dancer, and social media influencer, which led to “How can we use Alex’s public influence to bring about positive change?” These questions are still being asked, and are by no means fully answered yet, but it is clear that there is a significant willingness amongst those close to her to engineer positive change from the loss, and for Alex’s memory to live on through some form of legacy.
One of the first positive decisions made by Alex’s mum was to facilitate a Suicide First Aid Lite course in their local community, and to invite some of Alex’s friends along with other community members who could make use of the skills in their work and communities. The Salvation Army in the local area offered the use of their building to host the course, and we were grateful for their generosity in doing so. The locality where Alex lived is sadly an area of South Yorkshire with disproportionate rates of suicide in young men.
Delivering SFA Lite to a bereaved community and to close family members of Alex, including my own daughter, was not going to be easy. All are still processing the loss, and unfortunately the cruel hindsight that often goes along with suicide was felt by many people in the room.
As an Instructor, I soon identified the quieter members of the group, and those who felt less confident in such an environment, notwithstanding differences in preferred learning styles such as the theorists, reflectors, activists, and pragmatists. I quickly identified a young man who was a quieter member of the group, and my instinct told me it was nothing more than confidence challenges. When I see this, I know that it is rooted in fear, and the solution is to increase the safety levels, so the person knows they are safe in our training room. So, I did. I worked that bit harder to help all the learners to feel safe, in particular this gentleman, without any obvious targeting of them. It worked, and slowly, during the session and of his own doing, he came out of his shell. He contributed verbally, gave us his thoughts and insight, and was a valued member of the group.
For me as an Instructor, this was my win too, and I delighted in creating an environment which was safe, where every contribution was valued, and each speaker valued.
Last Thursday, 29th August, I sadly attended the local Coroner’s Court with Alex parents and her uncle, a day I never wish to repeat, and a room I pray I will never be in again. The sadness and loss were palpable throughout, in spite of how empathic and supportive the Court staff were. During our journey, Alex’s mum shared a hopeful story with me…
The young gentleman who had attended the SFA Lite had recently noted some warning signs in a colleague who was trying to ‘let others know’ and this man spotted the warning signs and had the confidence to use his SFA Lite skills which he had learned on our course back in June. Alex’s mum confirmed that in doing so, he saved someone’s life. The day was already emotionally charged, but this just had me overcome with mixed emotions – the pain of loss and the joy hope, together. I felt immensely proud of him.
I am mindful of cause and effect, and of over attributing cause and effect, but as I see it, from our loss of Alex another life has been saved. Were it not for the tragedy that is a suicide in our family, and for the family deciding to put the pain to positive effect by facilitating an SFA Lite course in their community, the young man may not have gained the skills, knowledge, and confidence to prevent suicide in someone else, and to save their life.
Alex’s death by suicide will sadly become one of the recorded suicides of 2024, along with thousands of others, none of whom are just a number. I ask myself regularly why we do not record lives saved by suicide prevention. Where does the Suicide First Aider go and log that a life was saved by them in 2024? We are trying to build a society that has hope, a society that believes we can do something about suicide, that it is actually possible to achieve zero suicides, at the same time as continually sharing statistics that generate feelings of hopelessness. We have a huge and gaping void in the hope narrative that also needs to change, and I believe the first step is recording numbers of lives saved. I am confident there are enough organisations and experts who could make this happen.
When a pebble is thrown into water it ripples, but if another pebble is thrown to the side of it, the first ripple is met with resistance. Out of tragedy can come hope.
My unfettered belief that suicide is not an inevitable part of our society remains unchanged. Alex is my own reason to continue doing what I do, and I write and share this post on World Suicide Prevention Day 2024 in dedication to her memory.
May Alex now be at peace.