During therapy yesterday, we talked a lot about the idea of radical acceptance. It’s basically when you tell yourself that you’re never going to know why something happened and you just have to be okay with it, let it go and move forward. Eddie’s death is always on my mind. I go over it and over it in my head, multiple times a day, but I’m never going to know why he killed himself. That unknown is sucking the life out of me.

How did this happen? Was there a trigger that I missed? Was he depressed? How could I have missed it? What was he thinking? How could he think we would be better without him…me without my husband and the boys without their father. What was so terrible that he thought suicide was the only way? Could I have stopped it? How could he leave us? Why did he do it? How were we not enough?

These questions are on constant replay. It’s exhausting. Its frustrating. It’s consuming. It’s wildly emotional. I’m a black and white person and this is all a fuzzy grey area. There are no answers and the only one who could give them to me is gone.

Enter the idea of radical acceptance. “I’m never going to know why Eddie killed himself and I have to be okay with it.”

I repeat this to myself throughout the day with the hope that I’ll believe it, if I hear it enough. We all know that the more you tell yourself something, the more you convince yourself it’s the truth.

Honestly, it’s worth a try. I’m hoping that I can get to the point where I accept this and can give my brain a break from the questions on replay.