Dr. G and I met in the world of death care in 2022, both part of a collective of tending humans being gathered to begin assisting for a local community offering from A Sacred Passing called – Suicide Suppers. A held space and curated meal for those wanting to die and actively making the choice not to. We managed to connect outside of the group, met for coffee and chatted all things that connected our worlds.

The topic of suicidal ideation, suicide loss and our mortality usually cause so much discomfort. These conversations aren’t the easiest to have with most people.

Dr. G was so present in these spaces, and I was grateful we were able to connect immediately on so many topics that usually cause people to want to shut down.

The last few years we both moved through major life tests and transitions, as so many people have.
I would hear about Dr. G through mutuals, and we would share IG messages checking in once in a while. Last October, after the Faces of Fortitude experience exhibit, Dr. G sent me a message asking how I chose people for this project, stating they would love to be considered. I was honored they wanted to share space with me for this and already knew we would have so much to talk about.

When we started our session, we were able to pick up like no time had passed. Dr. G is someone who not only is able to be present inside the vulnerability of their own story while telling it, but also is able to weave present day realities into the conversation. I was consistently reminded during our time, how we are all so interconnected in our grief.

Our conversation hit many points that felt like seeds sown for both the community and future of suicide care around us; most notably our discussion around mental health of people deemed “professionals”. So much of our conditioning has taught us to elevate and put those in professional spaces on pedestals, which leads to our shock and despair when we discover they too are humans who suffer from mental health struggles. Demonizing human beings for needing care around their mental health, especially those professionals who managed to become educated in their field despite the systemic issues the systems used to try to hold them back – is the antithesis of suicide care.

I will let Dr. G’s words speak for themselves. The following are her quotes from the conversation, as well as my favorite portraits from our session.

Dr G.
Poet, Somatic Psychologist, Buddhist Chaplain and Healing Artist

I felt from a young age that grief was both mired with pain & joy. I was born in the wake of a loss, an unacknowledged loss, but there was also a lot of celebration & anticipation about my birth.

“I realized when I got stuck, I was able to disappear in order to protect my energy.”

I was a child poet.  Writing, which grew more cryptic as I aged, was one of my only sources of comfort. It allowed my rage, fears & grief. It allowed me to live on without conditions or judgment.

Suicidal thoughts also offered sanctuary as a child– it gave protection against a gaze of hate &  it kept me unstuck, allowing escape from overwhelming situations. Only one member of my family truly knew of my suffering & writing as a conduit for that suffering– others seemed unaware. 

I was a class clown & highly talkative in one space & quiet & recluse in another. I was intelligent & a leader. I wasn’t giving the “usual” signs of being overwhelmed or suicidal. In high school I had my first (& only for some time there after) Black teacher. She detected my ideation embedded in a sonnet & asked me if I thought of killing myself. I agreed. I knew I needed support. 

But when I went to the guidance counselor, I panicked because my evaluation would bring shame to my family. I also knew of the possibility of being removed from my family & I didn’t want that either. so I denied ideation & returned to school.

“Just because I was juggling knives does not mean I’m not doing well. I knew I needed the help & I knew I could hold until I got out of Staten Island.”

[Suicidal Ideation] felt like a superpower. If I couldn’t get unstuck, I could just end it all. There have been times in my life that it felt like it could really happen.

When people are suicidal often times the hospital is the worst place for them. Sometimes it’s not about wanting to die, but wanting to be unstuck– to feel & experience possibility. We can’t stop it. I’m not god. Nor do I know the lives people live.

I’m open to have the conversation. I don’t want you to be alone— I think that’s the strongest bias I have. Co-create the space with me… I believe you know you, let’s get creative about how we talk about things we haven’t been able to talk about. I’m glad you’re still here. For me it’s about finding the source of suffering and helping to relieve that.

“We give up our lives already to oppressive spaces! We are constantly giving up control. So can we talk about it finally?”

I was having a visit with my primary physician and noticed she wasn’t touching me. I told her. She was mortified I noticed, but said they are being trained to touch LESS. We NEED touch.

People’s open access points are different. I think people are hanging on to the extremes of humanity. We are holding far too much. We need to be able to share it.

“Suicidal ideation has been a life long partner in many ways. It’s nice to be able to speak freely about it.”

We have so many people that lack empathy and humanity. We all choose to be here. And we all choose to listen.

M’s Photographers Notes

Thank you Dr. G for your patience as I transition into a new space, for sharing your story and vulnerable edges with me and thank you to those who are reading this, for holding us both in the process.

To connect with Dr. G:
www.claudelleglasgow.com
Substack & IG: @garudagrin

20 years ago I lived in a space that felt so magical, friends and family even used to call it the “magic house”. When the 2008 market crash happened and we had to move, I was devastated. We couldn’t lose our magic house, it was so special, what would happen to the magic it held? I of course have learned over the years that the magic was not about the space itself, but the energy we put into both creating as well as inhabiting it.

This art installation has had many “magic homes” that acted as the place of connection between two people sharing painful stories. There were donated photo studios, event spaces, bonus rooms, community centers and this past few years, my own apartment space – every moment unique in magic based on the humans sharing each time. Recently, I’ve been fine tuning my own needs for this project in order for it to have a healthy longevity. I decided to move the process outside of my home moving forward, and into a local community space, to do a better job at keeping my own boundaries with the work.

Dr. G was the first session in the new community space and overall it felt good, and of course I’ve made notes of things I hope to do to make it better as time passes. I had to remind myself that there is a learning curve to lighting a person in a new space, while also creating an environment safe for the connection. I came away from the first run grateful for the opportunity to build a new space of energy and magic for people to share their stories.

This art project has no end date and I truly still love the process – however I also am no longer creating content goals for myself. The machine telling us how long, how often and which format to use – are all made up rules and standards. Letting myself sit in both the grief shared in these portrait sessions as well as both the collective world grief and my own blooms – for as long as needed, has given me the space to continue to be excited about this work and want to take it into the foreseeable future. Thank you all for continuing to ride with me.