SALISBURY — As the 50 or so attendees gathered to walk the track at Catawba College Saturday morning, the sun was not yet up, and voices were hushed in the dark, cool, somber morning.

The Into the Light Suicide & Mental Health Awareness Walk, in its fourth year, is hosted by the United Way Rowan and this year was sponsored by Innospec and Vaya Health.

It is not an easy or simple event to attend, and though my life has been directly impacted by suicide, more than once, I was not taking this on personally. I was covering a deserving topic and event as a reporter for the Post. Or so I thought.

On arrival, there was the usual process for a walk or race. I checked in with United Way’s Philanthropy Director Audrey Eudy, picked up my T-shirt and bracelet, and began to look around to see who was at the event and if anyone seemed approachable. A long table with a tremendous breakfast spread was available, but it was coffee only for me.

I made my way to United Way’s Executive Director Jenny Lee to let her know I was on site and figure out where I needed to be.

I got a welcome-back hug from WBTV’s David Whisenant, who had just returned from a well-deserved vacation in Greece with his wife. I knew he would be speaking — he has his own history with suicide, having lost his father.

I made my way to the stadium, ready to walk, and to document the morning. We stepped off, so quietly. I watched as some walkers stopped for hugs, some had tears streaming down their faces, some were watching the sky, some were softly chatting. But it was clear that everyone there was carrying a weight on their shoulders.

And I realized my own shoulders were bowed, and I found that I was watching the sky, too. I am still not sure what I was watching for — the dawn to break or a sign from someone I love, but watch I did.

And then the bell began to ring, soft but clear, and the names of those missing were read.

Leaving a wound

Suicide is a horribly unfair outcome of mental illness. When someone ends their life because the pain of mental illness becomes too much to bear, it leaves an immense wound those who are left behind. And it is a wound that is hard to heal, because the closure everyone loves to talk about never comes. There is never an explanation that provides any comfort.

And when you combine that with the stigma, so many times, there is no one to talk to about what has happened.

When those in attendance Saturday were offered the chance to speak, one woman, Janet, who lost her son, captured it perfectly.

“We were lucky, in that we had good support within our family,” she said. “But we would see people when we were out, and they would say ‘we would have called you, but we didn’t know what to say.'” People are fearful of mental illness. It’s as if they somehow think it will rub off on them if they get too close. It is long since time to get past that.

Mental illness is like any other physical ailment that is caused by an imbalance in the body. Just like diabetes, high blood pressure, asthma or thyroidism.

The trouble is, it is the brain that is affected rather than the heart, lungs or other body part, and people start talking about someone being “crazy.” Which means no one wants anyone to know they have mental illness, and that includes not wanting anyone to know they take medication.

Mental illness does not just run through my own family; it gallops. I have my own diagnosis. Many of my ancestors did, and a few of my children do. I decided long ago I was not going to hide mine, because change can only come when we stop hiding, stop being ashamed, stop thinking something terrible is wrong with us if we have a chemical imbalance in our brain.

And still I have heard my own child refuse to take medication because he did not want to be made fun of in school. And still someone I lost recently to suicide did not want to have to take medication every single day “just to be normal.”

Addressing the stigma

Community Health Manager and Executive Director of Healthy Rowan for Rowan County Public Health Courtney Meece was one of Saturday’s speakers, and she addressed the issue of stigma head on, saying she is not a confident public speaker and that she needs practice to become more comfortable and adept, and talking about mental illness and mental health needs the same thing — practice.

“We need to practice talking about mental health, to address the stigma,” she said. “Because the stigma is isolating. I deal with anxiety every day, and I have struggled with suicidal ideation. But I was afraid to tell people how I was feeling, and that fear kept me locked in those feelings because I felt like I had nowhere to turn.”

She said in July, the National Suicide Hotline made an important change. Before this summer, there was an 888 number for the hotline and it was a challenge to remember it, “especially for those in crisis. But as of July, the hotline is three digits — 988 — which is genius, because that I can remember.”

Shana Woolard stood bravely, tears falling, to describe her brother’s lost battle with mental illness. She reached a point when she had no option left except to commit him, for his own safety.

“I sent him there to keep him alive, but what emotionally happened during those weeks at the mental hospital are unforgettable,” she said. “I sent him there, because I had no other resources.” She knew, from the way he looked at her, when he became someone she no longer knew and the situation had become desperate, but she is adamant that others know what help is available and how to get it.

Being together

Micah Innes, director of Rowan County Department of Social Services, thanked everyone for “choosing to rise early on a Saturday morning and come join us. I know we all have our own reasons for being here and I want us to honor those reasons together.”

Lee said when the United Way started the walk in 2019, she had no idea the impact it would have.

“It feels like we have created a fellowship,” she said. “It is so hard to reach out, but I feel like we’ve been together in this for a while now. This is a life-threatening issue, and we have to learn how to address it, and I think that is what we are doing. Together.”

As Whisenant rose to speak, the sun, which had passed the horizon, crested the stadium sign behind him, silhouetting him as he spoke.

“We have truly come into the light,” he said. “Literally, today, on this walk, but also by talking about it. When my dad died, I wanted to go to my church and talk about it, but my mother said no. She said we were not going to have people talking about us like that. We can’t be held back by the stigma anymore. When I was in Greece, I saw massive on-site security protecting valuable antiquities. But today, you heard that bell toll 28 times, heard 28 names. That’s 28 lives that are far more valuable than any antiquities. Don’t be ashamed to talk about mental health.”

He has been involved in the walk from its inception, and though he says “I hate it,” he also says “I’m not going to miss it.”

As for me, I was not quite ready to tell my own story yet. But this was more than another story to cover. This was a moment when I felt safe in honoring my own losses, and when I found hope that I am not alone in believing silence is not the answer. If you are dealing with mental illness, please know, it is just that, an illness. It is treatable, it is manageable, and you are not alone. Talk to a family member, a friend, a kind stranger that reaches out, or call 988.

Because it is never true that this world will be better without you. It is true that it is as wonderful as it is because you are here.