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  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Sep 2

Suicide awareness is not just about recognizing the signs—it's about creating a culture where people feel safe enough to be seen, heard, and helped. Increasing suicide awareness means challenging silence, breaking stigma, and reminding others that their lives have value even when they can’t see it themselves.

The Silence Between the Cracks: What Are We Still Missing About Suicide?

It’s easy to spot a broken arm. A fever. A bleeding wound. But emotional pain doesn’t show up on an X-ray.


Every year, millions struggle silently with suicidal thoughts—many of them never saying a word, even to those closest to them. While awareness campaigns, crisis hotlines, and school programs have increased over the years, the numbers remain sobering: over 700,000 people die by suicide globally each year, according to the World Health Organization. And for every death, there are countless others who attempt or contemplate it.


So what are we still missing?



The Myths That Keep Us Quiet


One of the most dangerous beliefs is that talking about suicide puts the idea into someone's head. The truth? Talking about it—openly, calmly, and without judgment—can save a life. Research shows that when we ask people directly if they’re thinking about suicide, we open the door for connection, not destruction.


Another myth? That only people with diagnosed mental illness are at risk. In reality, suicide can affect anyone—those with chronic depression, yes, but also people facing acute grief, shame, relationship breakdowns, or financial ruin. Sometimes, it’s not a long battle with depression that leads to suicide—it’s a single overwhelming moment when hope disappears.


The Illusion of “Fine”


People who are suicidal often learn to wear the mask well. They go to work. They take care of their families. They say they’re “fine.”


But suicide is not about wanting to die—it’s often about not wanting to live with the pain. Many just want the suffering to end, not life itself. If we can be brave enough to ask the deeper questions—"How are you, really?"—we may begin to catch more of the signs before it’s too late.


How We Show Up Matters


You don’t have to be a therapist to make a difference. Sometimes, being a consistent, nonjudgmental presence is the most powerful thing you can offer. Show up. Check in. Listen. And take people seriously—even if their pain doesn’t look like your version of it.


Don’t say, “You have so much to live for.” Say, “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Don’t try to fix it. Try to understand it.


And if you're the one struggling: You are not weak. You are not a burden. You are not alone.



Hope Isn’t Just a Word—It’s a Lifeline


Suicide prevention isn’t just about crisis moments. It’s about building a culture where people feel safe being vulnerable. Where emotional pain is treated with the same urgency as physical pain. Where we check in with people before they reach the edge.


Because here's the truth: suicide isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s hidden in the quiet withdrawal, the missed texts, the smiles that don’t reach the eyes.


So we must ask:


How many people are suffering in silence right now—because we haven’t made it safe for them to speak?


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



More Related Articles:

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Aug 30

The illusion of control can make us believe we're protecting ourselves from chaos, when in reality, we're just exhausting ourselves trying to manage the unmanageable. Many trauma survivors cling to the illusion of control as a way to feel safe, not realizing that true healing begins when they start to let go.

The Illusion of Control: What Are You Really Holding Onto?

We live in a world that glorifies control. We monitor our calories, track our sleep, plan our careers, and curate our lives online with precision. The message is clear: the more control you have, the more successful, safe, and worthy you are.


But here’s the reality—control is often a coping mechanism, not a solution. And learning to let go of it might just be the most radical act of healing you ever undertake.


The Root Beneath the Need: Trauma and Control


Let’s get honest: the need to control doesn’t come from nowhere. It often has deep, emotional roots—especially in childhood trauma.


When a child grows up in an environment that is unpredictable, chaotic, neglectful, or abusive, they don’t just learn that the world is unsafe—they internalize that they must manage the chaos to survive it. Whether that meant reading a parent’s mood before speaking, hiding their needs to avoid punishment, or being “perfect” to receive love, control became a tool for safety.



These early survival strategies are adaptive—they serve a purpose. But as we grow into adulthood, those same patterns can become maladaptive, driving anxiety, perfectionism, emotional suppression, and even relational difficulties.


We stop reacting to the present moment and instead live in a state of hypervigilance, trying to anticipate and manage every possible threat—even when the danger is long gone.


Control, then, becomes a kind of armor:


  • If I can control everything, nothing can hurt me.

  • If I get it all right, no one will leave.

  • If I stay busy, I won’t have to feel.


But what begins as protection can quietly turn into imprisonment.


The Hidden Toll of Staying in Control


Over time, living in a control-driven state takes a toll:


  • Chronic stress and anxiety

  • Disconnection from intuition and emotion

  • Inflexibility in relationships and routines

  • Fear of change or uncertainty

  • An inability to ask for help or trust others


What’s worse, it often reinforces shame: Why can’t I relax? Why do I always feel on edge? When, in truth, these are not personality flaws—they’re the echoes of trauma.


Letting Go as a Form of Healing


Letting go of control doesn’t mean becoming careless or passive. It means making the conscious decision to stop living from a place of fear and start living from a place of trust. This is not easy work. For someone with a trauma history, surrendering control can feel like walking into the fire. But with time, therapy, support, and inner work, it becomes possible to:


  • Identify the original wounds that created the need for control

  • Develop nervous system regulation tools (breathwork, grounding, etc.)

  • Rebuild trust in yourself and safe people

  • Shift from reaction to response

  • Learn that safety can come from within, not from managing everything outside of you


Healing doesn’t require us to be in control. It asks us to be present, curious, and compassionate with the parts of ourselves that once had no choice.



The Wisdom of Surrender


There is power in choosing to loosen your grip. In allowing space for uncertainty. In practicing self-compassion when old patterns rise. In learning to trust that you can navigate what life brings—even when it doesn’t go according to plan.


Letting go of control is not weakness. It’s an act of courage. It’s a statement that says: I no longer need to protect myself from a past that isn’t happening anymore.


Eye-Opening Question:


If your need for control was born from a time when you had no safety—what might healing look like if you gave yourself permission to feel safe now?


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



More Related Articles:

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Aug 12

Sometimes, calm feels uncomfortable because your nervous system is wired to expect chaos. When you've lived in survival mode for so long, peace can feel unfamiliar—even unsafe.

When Calm Feels Uncomfortable: Why Peace Can Feel Like a Threat (and How to Reclaim It)

You finally get what you thought you always wanted: a stable partner, a calm home, no fighting, no drama. Everything is... fine. So why do you feel so unsettled?


Why do you want to pick a fight just to feel something?Why does "normal" feel boring—or even suffocating?


If this sounds familiar, you're not broken. You're not ungrateful. You're just experiencing the psychological residue of what many people carry quietly through life: a nervous system conditioned for chaos.



When “Calm” Doesn’t Feel Safe


For people who grew up in homes full of emotional unpredictability—whether it was conflict, silence, neglect, or criticism—calm wasn't comfort, it was the calm before the storm. Your body learned to anticipate emotional whiplash, to stay on alert, to expect the shift.


So now, when things are peaceful? It doesn’t feel safe. It feels suspicious.


This is what psychologists refer to as a dysregulated baseline—when your internal state of “normal” has been set to high-alert. As adults, this can show up in relationships as restlessness, mistrust, self-sabotage, or even craving conflict to feel close. In short, we confuse peace with disconnection, and chaos with love.


The Love–Chaos Confusion


Here’s where it gets trickier: many of us learned to associate chaotic relationships with deep emotion. When you were a child and your parent’s love came inconsistently—only when you were pleasing them, or after yelling, or not at all—your brain started to link intensity with connection.


So now, when someone shows up with calm, secure love, it may feel... empty. Your system doesn’t recognize it as real, because it’s never been your emotional blueprint.


This is how people end up in painful cycles—gravitating toward volatile relationships, mistaking anxiety for passion, and overlooking safe partners who “don’t feel like home.”



How to Unlearn Chaos as Love


1. Stop judging your reaction. Start getting curious.

You’re not sabotaging your happiness—you’re responding to what your body believes is “normal.” Be gentle with yourself as you learn a new emotional language.


2. Learn what safety actually feels like.

Safety is consistent, respectful, and kind. It’s not adrenaline, high-stakes drama, or begging to be heard. It might feel boring at first, but that’s because your nervous system is recalibrating. Let it.


3. Name the discomfort when it shows up.

Say to yourself, “This is what peace feels like—and it’s okay that it feels unfamiliar.” Naming it builds awareness and choice.


4. Practice staying.

When the urge to pull away, shut down, or focus on what's wrong shows up—pause. Take a breath. Gently ask yourself, “What feelings might be underneath this moment, if I gave them space?”


5. Build new associations.

Over time, you can teach your body to associate calm with connection. Seek out small, safe moments—shared meals, quiet laughs, steady support—and remind yourself: this is love too.


Relearning peace is not the absence of feeling. It’s the rebuilding of trust—in yourself, and in the world around you.


And it’s okay if it takes time.


So here’s the question worth asking yourself:

If love doesn’t have to look like chaos, then... what might it look like instead? 


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



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