I Didn’t Know What Emotional Pain Was Until It Was Too Late

After my talk at the Suicide Prevention Vigil last night, a mother approached me. She told me something I will never forget.

I'd just shared about the night my daughter overdosed to attempt suicide. I'd share I did everything I could but I couldnt protect her from her pain.

The woman began by asking if my daughter was still alive. I shared that she is, and that it has been and will continue to be a long road of healing, for both her and me.

She shared with me that her son had died by suicide. She said they hadn’t seen it coming. Yes, he had struggled for a few years, but nothing signaled to her that his pain was at the level it was. And then she said the words..

“I didn’t know what emotional pain was until it was too late. And now my son is gone.”

Because that is the reality: we don’t know. We lose people because we don’t know.

And how could we know—unless someone teaches us, unless someone tells their story, unless we choose to talk openly about emotional pain? Unless we hear it in a book, a podcast, a news story, or across the table from a friend, how else would we learn to recognize it?

Her words reminded me why it is so important that we share our stories. Why we must be vulnerable, honest, and real. Not filtered. Not polished. Not perfect. Real. Because people are desperate for a genuine human connection. 

I will never forget her face or her words. “I didn’t know what emotional pain was until it was too late. Now my son is gone.”

We cannot wait until it’s too late to talk about emotional pain. We must be willing to bring it to the surface now, together.