Welcome To

Behind The Mask ~ Our New Normal


Behind The Mask - Our New Normal, was created as a place to share what we have become. Since the loss of our loved ones to suicide, we are not the same. We are forever changed. A large portion of the person our friends and families once knew, died with our loved one.

Behind The Mask - Our New Normal, is a tool to help our visitors understand how pain and grief affect those who suffer through a suicide loss. With this understanding, we pray that you will find a new sense of compassion. The next time you interact with a family member of a suicide victim, we hope that this insight will help you. We want our visitors to get an idea of the enormity and intesity of the changes that suicide grief and the stigma of suicide causes.

We need your love and understanding. We need to hear our loved one's name. We need others to share their beautiful memories of our loved one. We need to know that you will stand by us, nonjudgmentally. Somtimes, we may even need a listening ear, a hug, or for you to wipe our tears.

Please make us feel comfortable, coming out from behind our masks.

If you would like to submit your "New Normal", click on the email link at the bottom of the page. You may also send the name of your loved one lost to suicide, their dates, and where they lived, along with your submission. We will add your submission at our first available moment. You need not be a member of our organization or any of our affiliates to send a submission.

The Mask

I feel as if I am buried alive
Yet I smile and respond with "Fine, thank you."
I have been appropriately conditioned, like fine leather
That no one wants to hear the painful truth.

An essential part of me, a limb
A constituent of my earthly being
Has been violently amputated.
Yet I laugh at the mediocre conversations
A verbal splash in a shallow puddle
Pretending to be a player of the words
That no longer have meaning.

My heart has been ripped from my bosom
No benevolence granted
No explanation
No apologies
Only cataclysmic pain
Only agony
No anesthesia remains, just the bitter pain.
Yet I wear the mask
Day to Day.

Pretending I fit in
But really I'm a foreigner to this new land
An alien language they speak.
And as I attempt to translate the words
Still, they mean nothing to me.

Sequestered in the mask
They hear not the music I dance to
Nor the words I speak
Nor the pain I echo
Nor the native language of my eyes
They will never really know me, behind the mask.

Dear Cheyenne ~ 1996 revised 1998 by Joanne Cacciatore

My "New Normal"

I hate this new normal
I want the old one back,
When the four of us were together
And there was nothing that I lacked.

All your birth dates were imprinted
On my memory when you were born -
Now, with this new normal
I have a death date, too, that I mourn.

Our family, once of four,
Is what I thought we'd always be
Never, never every thinking
That one day we'd only be three.

Yes, I hate this new normal
We didn't plan for this at all.
Your future is now just past memories
And sometimes too painful to recall.

I used to feel one hundred percent
But now the most is seventy-five.
The joys and hopes that I now have
Are minus one quarter my child died.

There are no more celebrations,
Only 'occasions' that we share,
We adjust to our new normal
Because you're no longer here.

You don't walk through the door any more
Your laughter we do not hear,
The only thing I can hope for now
Are my dreams to bring you near.

Oh yes, I hate this new normal
That just came and settled in--
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...
I want the 'old normal' back again.

Debbie Landsman
saland@earthlink

                                                                                    

My life as I knew it before my brother committed suicide, was one that always included him. I look back and realize I was his friend, he was my confidant, and visa versa. Now that Sam is gone, I no longer have him here, and I can't talk to him in person. I also don't fit the norm that I once felt before this great loss. My life is so different in so many ways, it is almost indescribable to the point of frustration. Maybe frustration is a big part of who I am now, at this point; a little over a year later. I find that I become frustrated when others don't understand why I still talk about him everyday or just as I did when he was here. I get frustrated, almost physically, when I need my "brother fix," and can't get it. I can't call Sam and just talk, or tell him to come over to my house. I miss his hugs, and our poetry duels. ha. I have a mask neatly tucked away that is very portable, and I carry it with me most every place I go. Never know when you might need a mask like this one. It fits neatly across my face of pain, like no other mask. I can't wear it at Mardis Gras, because you see, this mask is invisible. It hides the pain I feel, yet shields me from any further destruction. Cool mask huh? I invented it all on my own. If you look at it closely, you will see tiny, hairline cracks. These are the faults, disappointments, hurt, and anger. I don't try to fix them, because they represent who I am. Late at night, when I'm alone, and I lay my head down, I slip it off when no one is looking. I can sleep without my mask. Unfortunately, not many people ever see me without it. Sam owns this mask, and he helped me design it when on September the 13th of 2003, he put a gun in his mouth and the gun went off. I tend to believe, underneath this mask, that it was accidental. I tend to feel confusion under that mask, so you see the need for me to keep it on right? I'm sure you understand. Sometimes, I talk to others like those here, who have lost their loved ones to this senseless destruction, and we compare our masks. Whew, sometimes it gets lonely under here.........Sonjia
Samuel Fisher, Jr. 6-30-1965--9-13-03 RIP my little brother....

My new "normal" is "abnormal". I do not feel normal, I know I don't act normal, I don't even look normal in the mirror. My abnormal is a frown on my face all the time. I'm not even aware that I do it anymore. I gave up my home of 12 years and moved 1,000 miles away and stayed on a drunk for 1 year until I got to the point where I thought I was going insane and had to come home to face my "new abnormal". I have given up my career of 20 years in the computer field only to go back to school and acquire a new career in the medical field. I have lost 110 pounds and my heart is shattered beyond repair. I am so abnormal I need to take sleeping pills to sleep, anti-depressants to function and a therapist to talk all this out with. All this and the fight to not be with Alex, to not do what he did to go where he's at. Normal? No way! Never again will I be normal or new! I am just functioning abnormally one minute, one day, one week at a time. But you know what? The frown does disappear from time to time. Debbie, Mom to precious Alex

I wrote this about a month after Bobby's death. In a lot of respects, I still feel the same pain and continue to have the nightmares. Although they have lessend, the intensity and the pain is still as fresh as the day I lost him. I didn't really hide behind a mask, sure I often told people that I was fine, etc.... But then came the day when I lost my own mind......... thankfully I had some good friends to get me the help I so desperately needed to get "through" this. I was so angry for so long, I guess you could say that ANGER was my mask and that's what I hid behind.

My Son, My Friend, My Life!!!!

As i sit here with a broken heart from the loss of my dear child, he took his life and shattered mine that night his mind went wild...

he placed the belt around his neck, tied it to the closet door, later on that night i found him, my son, he was no more.....

It was a very selfish act of him, to rob me of his life, i looked forward to perhaps one day, meeting his future wife...

Dear mom why didn't you stop him, from leaving his loving home, he was my only son, my friend, my world, and now i'm left alone...

i have so many memories, one's that i'll hold dear, but that night will live forever in my mind, causing multiple nightmares...

God please release me from this pain, please God, i want him back, he was my joy, my sunshine, and now my days are black.

what did i do so wrong to have to be punished like i am, it breaks my heart each day without him again and again and again.

i know this sounds cruel and hateful, painful to the core, but i have lost my son to suicide, no death could hurt me more...

Diana, Mom to Bobby....Forever 13 and Forever in My heart
12/16/88 - 10/15/02

It is still hard for me to accept my brother' death. I guess the mask I wear is that everything is okay and that I am okay. My co-workers and my friends don't feel comfortable when I mention his death. I know is that they don't know what to say, but I don't need them to say anything just listen. So to make them feel better I put on my mask before I go to work everyday. Isn't that ironic. I am the one who lost my brother to suicide but I am the one trying to make everyone else feel comfortable around me. It gets so hard at times. I just want to rip off the mask and say "NO, I am not okay, but bare with me, be there for me, listen to me, and I will get to a better place" Even my family tends to put up a mask around each other. It is not as quite as good of a cover-up as the one we wear to work, but is there. There is still anger, denial. confusions, doubt, you name it, it is there. So many emotions for those who have lost a loved one to suicide. Why should I make sure that everyone feels comfortable? I am not comfortable at all. I mean, I am here and he is not. It is not fair at all. His little girl started kindergarten this fall without her daddy. She will grow up with her daddy. She will walk down the aisle without her daddy. Where is the fairness in that? I am so tired of wearing this mask everyday, and when I attempt to take it off at work you can see the fear and discomfort in everyone's eyes. You hear their whispers. Just because he committed suicide doens't change that he is gone and never coming back. Don't feel sorry for me, just feel with me!. I am sorry I have gone on and on here. I am just ready to take the mask off and say , "Take me as I am and not as you would have me"

Roxanne ( big sister to Bo )
Bo Owen 1/19/73 - 4/24/04
always missed and loved
Go rest high on that mountain, little brother.

"The Concept of Time"

What is Time?
Is it a passing, of what once was,
Or just a loss of our memories?
And with, "Time",
Does the love, I hold in my heart
die, just as my son did?

They tell me, "Time" heals,
I say, they don't know how I feel.
And how much, "Time"
Before I heal, do they feel I need?

And over, "Time"
Do they really think,
I have not tried, to heal, to feel,
to live, once again?

Give it, "Time",
they say, so in "Time"
will I know, what they know?
What it's like to live,
without pain.

Can they tell me,
just how much, "Time"
they have allowed, me?
Do they, really know what I need?

Does "Time", erase my pain?
Or does it do, little but just go on?
Can you tell me,
is it my, "Time" yet?

By: Ginger Bethke
In loving memory of my son, Todd
 April 25th, 2004

BEHIND THE MASK

Behind the mask… is where I’ll be
Trying to determine who is the new me
Your death has ripped my old self apart
And left me with a wounded heart

Behind the mask… is where I hide
Getting by each day is all I can try
I know I’m changing but not sure how
In my life, there is no ‘normal’ for now

Behind the mask…is how I am ‘me’
Waiting to emerge into what will be
Some friends and family see the mask
But most cannot look beyond the past

Behind the mask….a few steps behind
Wondering what each new day will find
I feel as if I’m wrapped up in a cocoon
The world going by to the beat of it’s tune

Behind the mask…is where I wait
Not sure if I any longer believe in my fate
I know that I am no longer the person you knew
And to myself, I have to learn to be true

Behind the mask...I watch others go by
Their lives seem simple and without the ‘why’
How I wish you had not died this way
And broken my heart for all my life’s days

Behind the mask…I think I now understand
It’s where you hid to make yourself a young man
Your heart was broken and I had no clue
You buried your pain and showed it only to a few

Behind the mask…it’s how I saw you last
But I didn’t understand until your life had passed
Behind the mask…the tears flow unseen and unheard
My one comfort - ‘I love you’ were my last words

© EA Gay
September 21, 2004 - 8:51pm
Wayne's Memorial Site

The Mask We Wear

The mask we wear to hide our face
Our life now empty feels out of place
The mask we wear to hide our tears
Our lives now shattered and so unclear
The mask so ugly and full of shame
We feel so guilty with no one to blame
The mask it hides our scars so deep
That burns within and makes us weep
The mask so heavy that we do wear
With very few with whom we share
Friends and family they can't understand
They can only see what is in their hand
It's not black nor is it white
It comes like a thief in the night
It tears our heart apart right to the soul
Now we feel less than whole
So this mask that I now do wear
Is one I hope you will never share
For deep within you will never feel
Life to me just does not seem real
I wear this mask to hide my pain
For I will never be normal again

Author: Robert Walters Sr.

I found my son and cried.
I wish it was I who had died.
Robert Walters Sr.
Dad of Robbie
8/16/1973 - 12/14/2002
Robbie's Memorial Site

The day I found out that my baby brother died,I lost a big part of myself. Apart that will never be the same. I would love one more day with him just to let him know how much I love him. I understand he was in alot of pain. And I know that the demons would not leave him alone. I miss his laughter. He left this world August 25th 2001. He was just 37 years old. He was the third child of the family. The hardest thing I have ever had to do was say good-bye to him.

Pamela K. Cabrera
Sister of David Craig Harper
10/17/63 - 8/25/01

The mask is now permanent.
Nine years on,
Memory still has power to shake and catch me unawares.
My life changed on that day,
I know now the trauma has changed me for ever.
In memory of my husband AJB.
3.6.1944 ~ 24.5.1996

CB (England)

Me.

Me of yesteryear has left the room. There is a new person
Living in the same skin. Different thoughts, different feelings.
Her mind wanders, sometimes jumps erratically from place
To place. She moves so quickly, her frantic movements
Won’t allow any rest for the body.
So much cleaning! Wash, dust, mop, organize
Then reorganize. She can iron for hours. Ironing
And crying seem to go hand in hand. She doesn’t stay
In one spot long enough to have conversations about
Ordinary things. I get the feeling she is not able
To track or follow so she avoids it.
She talks to herself in question format. So many one word
Questions. Why? What? How? And why seems to be
Her favorite mantra. I question also.
How long is she going to live here? Why can’t she sit still?
Where is she taking me now? Will she ever let this body
Sleep all night?
After many months of her presence, I took to sleeping.
Let her be in charge, I don’t care.
Somehow she has become the nurturer, my caregiver
Of sorts. This “other” is starting to tell me I have to
Come back out now and face the world. Seems it is time
For her to go and leave me alone again.

I am understanding some of it now. Bits and pieces
Are making sense. She was my “inner” mother
Protecting me while my spirit stayed with my child
Buried in a spot in Missouri. I was not ready to leave him.
I couldn’t be in two places so she protected my sanity
When I was not able. She gave me grieving rope.
I am starting to see less of her and more of me,
Just a little more each day. Slowly I am being pulled
To the surface, breaking it sometimes and I stay
Above it for longer periods of time. It doesn’t take
Too much to pull me under, but I am fighting now
And caring about ordinary life things once more.

Me.
Me of yesteryear can never be as I was,
But I am entertaining the possibility of a new
And improved me, use the pain, use the knowledge,
Visit the darkness when I have to but plan
To return and let it all make a difference for others.
I am finally starting to know my son
Does not live in Missouri. I am carrying him
In my heart. He is where I am. His spirit is free
And his soul is with our Maker. Andy has gone home
Yet guides me, feeds me words to make things better
For someone else, lets me know he is finally safe.

In Memory of my son, Andrew Micheal Hale
Andy leapt to his death from the top of a
six story building on May 24th, 2004
March 14, 1973 ~ May 24, 2004

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