Stoicism: Where do we draw the line?

Writing about my Mum’s Euthanasia and my Dad’s Suicide was cathartic. There’s something about writing your thoughts to make sense of it all that can relieve the amount of weight it holds in your mind.

It also frees up more of my energy to think about resilience and how it can help save one life from suicide, as many times as possible. As a result, one thought I’ve been wrestling with recently is the notion of stoicism or being stoic.

A stoic is defined as “a person who can endure pain or hardship without showing their feelings or complaining.”

When I reflect on my Mum’s cancer journey, I consider my Mum the epitome of being stoic. Despite her initial diagnosis, each subsequent and worsening prognosis, and all the pain she endured, she didn’t complain.

She was always happy to see us, she was always willing to engage in the laughter surrounding her, and even when I snuck a couple of beers into her hospital room to watch the Saturday Racing with her, she helped me pick a few winners!

I admire her attitude, and whatever resilience I have certainly stems from the example she’s set for me throughout my life. But one day, her stoicism disappeared.

“I want to die”

Ultimately, my Mum chose the moment to communicate her pain when she didn’t think she could carry on, and tragically, I think my Dad made the same decision… Only he chose to communicate with his actions.

The importance of communicating your struggle is getting out there, but we still have over 65,000 suicide attempts and 3,000 suicide deaths in Australia each year, so we have to ask ourselves… Why?

Aussies are a stoic bunch.

Australians love stoics, and I love that about Australians. I certainly identify with the stoic mindset, but there’s a line in the sand needed, and I think we need to make it okay to share our struggles.

After a chat with Benny A on the topic, we touched on the notion that people might not talk about their struggles because they feel like they’re complaining, and I get it. The idea that there are so many people who have it worse, means that I just need to suck it up, right?

In a way, yes. The power of perspective is an incredible tool, but so is verbalising your pain, and they’re tools that can be used together. You can suck it up and share your struggle at the same time, and by sharing your struggle, you’re actually making it easier to suck it up! But I don’t think it stops there.

I think so many of us are uncomfortable with saying how we feel because we don’t want to enter a conversation filled with emotion… We don’t want to buy an entry ticket to a tear-jerker.

But saying how you feel doesn’t have to lead to a deep and meaningful conversation. Sure, there’s immense value in sitting down and really hashing things out, but sometimes it’s just as valuable to air your grievance and crack on.

Better out than in they say… only this example smells better.

Being stoic is something to be proud of, but it’s not something to hold onto at all costs. Admitting you’re struggling is not complaining, and it’s necessary if we’re going to change this narrative of people never seeking help until it’s too late.

Let people know you’ve had a rough day, or tell your mate you’ve got the boozy blues, then laugh about it. Whatever it is, make the act of talking about the rough aspects of life normal and light-hearted.

Doing this creates a habit of communication, so that when a heavy conversation might be needed, it’s not that big a deal. And it’s that conversation that could save one life from suicide.

‘Just. Keep. Moving.’