The news of my brother’s suicide rubbed me raw like sandpaper. Joey and I were born on the same day, eleven years apart, and for me, we would die on the same day eleven years apart-destiny and my promise. I waited nine years to grieve. I kept my promise to myself for ten long years. The grief from suicide is more traumatic than a normal grief.

My other promise was to stay sober in Joey’s honor. I failed sobriety quickly, drinking to numb my life and no longer for fun and relaxation.

I wish I could say my brother’s suicide and our alcoholism are the end of this memoir, but my sobriety revealed I had mental health problems. Unfortunately, a correct diagnosis took years. After sobriety, I tried multiple self-harm behaviors to bring about a sudden rush of adrenaline. This contributed to my 9 year career of at least 30 trips to mental health hospitals. Thank God I stumbled upon something to bring the miracle of life to me.

With suicide being more than double that of homicide in the United States, answers are challenging to find. The reader will learn how to work with someone who is standing on that ledge of life and leaning toward death as their solution. Most often when those who have lost someone to suicide inform our clinical work it is by sharing their story in hopes of sparing others the torment that they experienced …

-Dr. Michael Arch, PhD, LCSW, CT