Erin's Journals

A quick update on the book for you (which has been out one month, as of today): as you can see on the banner on my FB page and on Twitter, there is now a release date for the audio version of Mourning Has Broken. I’ll have more about it, and the story of how it came to be, next month, but for now, I’m getting a lot of inquiries as to whether I voiced it. In two words: heck, yes! I honestly cannot imagine letting anyone else do this. And Rob produced it. That’s all I’ll say about that, right now, except that it is available for pre-order.
 
And if you’ve already read the book, please take a moment to leave a review either at amazon.ca or at chaptersindigo.ca and let other potential purchasers know what you thought. I so appreciate that and am grateful for the reviews that have already been left. And you don’t have to have purchased the book through those two websites or their stores in order to have your voice heard. Something else I learned through this entire process!
 
Speaking of the learning process, there is something that I touch upon in Mourning Has Broken but that I’d like to take a moment to shine a light on today. It jumped out at me on the weekend and I wonder if we could discuss the verb we use when we talk about suicide. (Look, I gave you a few laughs last week, stick with me here!)
 
The terminology I refer to was brought to my attention on the weekend thanks to a Miami Herald article about a second Marjory Stoneman Douglas high school student who had committed suicide, one year after the Parkland, Florida attack that killed 17. Then I read yesterday of a parent of one of the children who died in the Sandy Hook elementary school shooting also committing suicide.
 
And that’s when – apart from the horror of the trauma that caused these three deaths – something jumped out at me: the fact that we are still using the outdated and offensive terminology “commit” when we talk about death.
 
I realize these stories emanated from the United States, but I wanted to look into it a little bit here on our home turf. Suicide in Canada has not been a crime since the early 1970s. (Physician-assisted suicide was decriminalized in 2015.) Before 1972, dying by or attempting suicide was a criminal offence. But that is no longer the case. You may think that to take your own life is a sin, and that’s up to you and your belief system.
 
But a newspaper like the Miami Herald – any news publication of note, for that matter – should know that the terminology has changed. That second student died by suicide or completed suicide. Saying “committed suicide” carries with it a whole set of implications and judgments of which many of us are still only becoming aware. (I still hear those two words together on Law and Order: SVU and I wonder how it is that writers on a prominent show such as that have yet to get the memo.)
 
You may be sighing, “Oh, what next?” or decrying some sort of political correctness or lack of logic in the ever-changing landscape of our lexicon. But hear me out.
 
First off, what some see as “political correctness” can often be an effort to alleviate the pain and offence that some antiquated terms and phrases have carried. So let’s get over that. Secondly, I’ve been in communication with a great many bereaved parents and family members who have lost loved ones to suicide. Only one, a fairly recent email from a widow, used the word “commit” to describe the loss of someone close to her when it came to dying by suicide. That did not escape my attention. Most chose not to.
 
Here are a few paragraphs that can sum up the reasoning behind this gentle plea for a change to the way we talk about this, still the most (unfairly) stigmatized form of loss of life. This comes from BeyondBlue.org.au, an Australian website. And I think it applies no matter where in the world you are:

…There is one simple thing all of us can do to help reduce the stigma around suicide. That is, stop using the ‘c’ word. People don’t commit suicide.
 
It’s hard to believe, but there was a time when suicide was considered a crime. It’s even harder to believe that it wasn’t that long ago. In Victoria, it was only with the Crimes Act of 1958 that attempting suicide was no longer recognised as a criminal act. Before this, if a person took their own life, they could be refused a funeral or even have their possessions confiscated. Not to mention the scrutiny their family or friends were left to carry.
 
The criminal associations with suicide might be gone, but using the phrase ‘committed suicide’ is still common.
 
So why shouldn’t we use the ‘c word’ when it comes to suicide?
 
Susan Beaton, a Suicide Prevention Adviser in her research report on suicide and language, sums it up well: “We now live in a time when we seek to understand people who experience suicidal ideation, behaviours and attempts, and to treat them with compassion rather than condemn them. Part of this is to use appropriate, non-stigmatising terminology when referring to suicide.”
 
Instead of saying the word ‘committed,’ try and use phrases like ‘took their own life’ or ‘died by suicide.’
 
Beyond Blue research shows that people at risk of suicide want those close to them to listen and show they care. Having conversations and understanding their situation – or at least trying to – is key.
 
Mental health literacy has come a long way in the past few decades. If you’re still using the ‘c’ word, it’s time to update your vocab. It might seem like a small slip of the tongue to you, but it can have a serious isolating impact on someone going through a difficult time.

Losing someone to suicide, or coming from a place where you were ready to die by suicide, is hard enough. Can we perhaps find the compassion to change the way we talk about it? Maybe that, too, will help to throw just a little more light on depression and mental health issues.
 
Thank you. I just wanted to share that with you. I know many of us have never, ever considered how “committed” may land on the heart of someone who’s been touched by suicide. But how do we learn about anything if we keep so much in the shadows, right?
 

Welcome in. We were heavy of heart this weekend, so I’ll let a few pictures – worth, they say, a thousand words – speak for me today, if that’s all right. I’ll be back tomorrow.
 
24 forever, 28 yesterday.
 

 
A visit to our special spot to greet the ducks and – at long last – leave some of Lauren’s ashes…
 

 
…held in the cup of a daffodil’s bloom.
 

 
A 50th birthday party that made us smile and eat cake….
 

 
And instead of a sign from above like a dime, we found a cheque from last fall in Rob’s sport jacket pocket.
 

 
Many dimes, many times over. And the date on the 1000-dime cheque? Colin’s birthday.
 
Have a gentle Monday.
 

I just want to write a thank you to you and everyone who has written to me or posted on my Facebook Page about Mourning Has Broken. Some have taken it on vacation; some – like broadcaster Jerry Howarth, himself an author with Hello Friends having hit bookstands – have written to tell me chapter by chapter how the book has affected them.
 
I even have a friend who lives nearby who lets me know when she spots my book (in which she is personally thanked) around town! That’s how this picture came to be: I saw it in the window at Tanner’s in our nearby town of Sidney, BC on Wednesday. This will never get old, I promise you. I resisted the temptation to go in and ask if I could sign some. This time.
 

 
You know how I feel about you coming here, supporting me in silence and in words, and the kindness that you’ve extended to Rob, to Lauren and her little family and to me over the years. But I got an email last week that made me laugh out loud and I thought it was just a perfect way to wrap up five days that began with a broken heart for those who suffer racism and discrimination, and were peppered with the humour of some stupid things I did (chocolate crotch) or came up with (Clenz menu). This is just perfect. Over to you, Ruth:

I had a funny experience today at the Cobourg Walmart that I must share with you, Erin. I was passing a display and suddenly saw one book – your book – tucked into the top shelf of the display all by itself! It’s not difficult to recognize that cover! I noticed a couple of Walmart ladies walking by and called them over. I said, “Do you know who this lady is?” (pointing to your name) to which they replied, “No.”
 
So I start with your morning hosting at CHFI which they then both acknowledged. I gave them a brief intro to the book and said, “Now it’s a must read so you’ll be able to help promote it! And, by the way,” I went on, “Erin also does promotional writing for Walmart!” That, they did not know. What a great day I had! 

Thank you, Ruth, and to all of the “part-time publicists” who have been advocating for and reviewing my book (at amazon.ca if you’re so inclined) and just helping me out!
 
In the spirit of returning the favour, you may have seen on Facebook or Twitter that I’d like to join your book club if you’re going to be sharing Mourning Has Broken. Let me know and I’ll call in by phone or join by Skype or FaceTime, in case you would like a Q & A or just a chat about the book.
 
It’s truly the very least I can do. And by the way, there are some plans in the works for me to return to the GTA for a couple of events in June, too, but I’ll keep you posted here. Have a terrific first weekend of spring and I’ll be back here with you on Monday. 
 

16 years. As of yesterday – First Day of Spring – that’s how long this journal of mine has been going. I won’t dwell on that any more, except to express to you my sincerest gratitude for coming here, day in and day out, to share what’s on my mind, what I need to get off my chest and even just to click a link now and then – which you just might want to do today with my latest weekly Walmart article about changing your outlook by switching up what you look through. After all, it is a new season and everything.
 
Of course, a new CTV mid-season arrival Jann began last night, too. If you haven’t watched it or PVRed it, do catch it online or on demand. I promise you it’s worth it. We haven’t laughed that long in forever. And we can’t wait until next Wednesday!
 
I felt a little like I was in a sitcom on Tuesday, too; it’s something that Jann could easily have happen to her in an upcoming episode (although I’m sure she and her writers have plenty to mine). And why stuff like this happens to me, I have no idea. Maybe the writing gods are just making sure I never run out of things to tell you here.
 
As you know from Monday’s CLENZ menu journal, Rob was prepping for a colonoscopy. I was honestly in shock to read how many people were doing the exact same thing within a day or two of Rob’s experience.
 
He got through it with flying colours, except that he has to go back in five years instead of ten because his cleanse wasn’t 100% effective. Apparently they want him to start a month before or something (okay, that’s an exaggeration, but I’m sure that’s how it’ll feel to him). That’s all right though: I’m due for one in five years, too, so we can go through the cleanse together, just like Marty Short, Steve Martin and a few other friends do. Or so legend has it.
 
We celebrated his ravenous hunger and seemingly good results by going for Chinese food at a restaurant that’s not in our part of town but got good reviews. And we were not disappointed. Although I think he’d have eaten a rubber sole with hoisin sauce on it, we really did find the place to have great food. So, another win!
 
Where did we not win? When I managed to look like *I* was the one undergoing the cleanse. Picture this:
 
I’m sitting in the sun on a bench, answering a few emails and just feeling a big ol’ dose of spring fever. So content am I that I post an Instagram, Twitter and FB picture of me all zen-like.
 

 
Don’t mind the bush growing out of my hair. And oh yes, the Dollar Tree backdrop gave lots of people a chance to make jokes about where we get our colonoscopies in BC! Fair game, for sure.
 
As I sat grinning happily in the sunshine (so blissful that a woman passing by stopped and said, “That’s a sunshine smile, isn’t it?”) it occurred to me that the only thing that could make the day better would be chocolate. So I gathered up my laptop and book and went into the Dollar Tree and bought some candy coated chocolate Hershey Eggies. I took my bounty to the car and sat in the MINI, top open, listening to my pal and birthday girl Susan Knight on the radio and just enjoying the perfection of the day.
 
When I got the call to go in and collect my sedated husband, I locked my stuff in the trunk and headed into the clinic. I checked in with the receptionist, then excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. It wasn’t until I was on my way to wash my hands that I looked down and gasped: it was a huge brown splotch from the top of one leg and spread across to the top of the other, right in my (as Archie Bunker would call it) “groanal area.” It looked as if I was wearing a diaper inside-out, except that, instead of brown on white, I had the good fortune to be wearing black capri pants.
 
As I hurriedly took a wet paper towel to the sticky mess, I wondered if the receptionist had even noticed when I checked in, and if so, whether she’d ascertained that I was indeed smeared in chocolate. I’d have been able to explain that I’d dropped the insides of a chocolate egg on my lap in the sun, had I just had a chance.…
 
Honestly, even in his sedated state, Rob had to laugh at me. Here he was the one who’d spent practically hours in the bathroom over the previous 36 or so…and yet I was the one who looked like I’d had an accident.
 
It’s a wonder Rob takes me anywhere – sedated or not. Have a wonderful day and I’ll be back with you to wrap up the week tomorrow.