Tag: Depression

This longform article summarizes a conversation on the Giving Voice to Depression podcast hosted by Terry McGuire. In it, Terry speaks with Belfast-based guest Cara Mclean (with reflections from co-host Dr. Anita Sanz) about surviving the darkest stretches of depression and how therapy and small, ordinary moments can keep a person alive and moving forward.

Depression rarely presents as a neat problem with a tidy solution. As Terry emphasizes, it’s messy, cyclical, and honest conversations about it matter. Cara’s story captures that complexity: years of unnamed suffering, attempts to make the pain stop, a courageous return to therapy, and a practice of noticing brief “flashes” of goodness—like the feel of a warm coffee cup or the kindness in a stranger’s hug. Those fragments, combined with skilled support, became her rope out of the pit.

Below is a comprehensive, skimmable list of insights from the episode—a guide for anyone living with depression or supporting someone who is.

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1. Name the Illness Clearly

Terry frames depression not as a character flaw but as a real illness that affects thoughts, energy, hope, and motivation. Cara recognizes this now; she once believed her sadness and numbness were simply normal.

As Cara explained:

You know it can really impact everything in our lives. So yeah I think you know it is an illness just like just like you know we have physical illnesses, we have mental illnesses and one of those mental illnesses is depression.

• Why it matters: Naming depression as an illness invites treatment and compassion.
• What to watch for: Flatness, hopelessness, or a “gray tint” to life are symptoms, not failings.

Try this: When self-blame shows up, gently remind yourself: “Depression is an illness. I’m not weak for having symptoms.”

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2. Validate the Past

In therapy, Cara finally called her experiences trauma—after years of minimizing them. Naming the pain shifted her sense of self-worth.

Cara reflected:

It was a validation of it because in a sense I was sort of underplaying it and minimizing it. But I think someone saying to me that, you know, that is trauma. It was difficult to accept, but I think I feel better knowing that, you know, that it was traumatic.

• Key insight: Validation doesn’t glorify pain; it locates it.
• As Terry observed: We don’t need trauma to grow, but we can grow through it once it’s acknowledged.

Try this: In therapy or journaling, finish the line: “What happened to me was real. It affected me by…”

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3. Expect the Mess

Terry compared therapy to cleaning a cluttered drawer:

When you decide to clean out a drawer, you got to take all this stuff out and you make a bigger mess before you can put it back. With therapy, sometimes when you have to unpack what you didn’t even apparently identify as traumatic, it’s going to be a mess until it’s not.

Healing is messy. Feelings surface. Life looks worse before it looks better—but that’s progress, not failure.

• What to expect: Temporary chaos and emotional fatigue.
• What to remember: Messiness means you’re doing the work.

Try this: When things feel harder, tell yourself: “This is the drawer-on-the-counter phase. It’s messy, and it’s temporary.”

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4. Notice the Light

Cara described how joy feels sharper after deep depression:

The happiness after the darkness is like more euphoric each time. I experience like debilitating sadness, but then also like really amazing happiness on a really heightened level where it is euphoric.

When you’re in an episode, it’s easy to forget that joy exists. Recording moments of happiness helps remind you later that light returns.

Try this: Create a “hope file” with photos, notes, or voice memos of times you felt even a flicker of peace.

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5. Keep the Ask Simple

At one of her lowest points, Cara didn’t overthink reaching out—she simply Googled “counselors near me” and sent an email.

As Cara recalled:

I just researched on Google, you know, counselors near me and I just emailed a counselor. I didn’t really think too much into it. Something within me was saying, “No, you don’t deserve this, Cara. You need someone to guide you through this. It’s too difficult to go through it alone.”

• Lesson: The simpler the step, the more likely you’ll take it.
• What helps: One small action—email, text, or call—is enough.

Try this: Use a ready-made outreach message:
“Hi, I’m looking for help with depression and would like to schedule an intake. My availability is ___.”

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6. Hold On for One Day

Cara’s advice for enduring the hardest moments is simple and powerful:

Please just hold on… Don’t think too far in advance because you’ll just think ‘but I can’t live like this for years.’ Just say okay so I’m just going to hold on until tomorrow. Set yourself a goal for that day and then hold on for the next day and the next.

Dr. Anita Sanz added:

Force yourself as hard as it is because who wants to stay in the present moment when the present moment is awful, but we can handle the present moment.

Focus on the next 24 hours, not the next decade. Tomorrow is far more achievable than forever.

Try this:

1. Today: Sit up in bed.
2. Tomorrow: Brush teeth.
3. Next day: Step outdoors for two minutes.

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7. Record the Good

Cara makes a point to document joy, not just pain:

My happy days I make sure to journal about it because I think we tend to journal whenever we’re in darkness which is great but let’s also journal whenever we feel good because then it’ll remind us that it’s possible. Take pictures of something that made you happy… coffee, my dog, whatever it may be.

• Why it matters: Depression erases memory of joy. Writing it down creates evidence that good exists.
• Simple shift: Let your journal hold proof of both darkness and light.

Try this: Start a “10-second contentment” page. Record brief moments that felt okay—no matter how small.

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8. Reframe What You See

Dr. Anita Sanz noted how Cara interpreted small moments differently:

When she saw someone, a couple kiss, it would be very easy in depression to think, “Oh, they have what I will never have.” As opposed to the way she interpreted it, which was as proof that there is love in the world.

Terry added her own twist:

I like the ‘I deserve it’ better. I think I would be more able to say that to myself than, “Oh, it’s possible.” But yes, to say like, “I do deserve that,” you know, that would be a bit of a balm.

• Skill: When your thoughts say, “That’s not for me,” try replying, “That exists—and I deserve it too.”
• Why it works: It shifts envy to hope.

Try this: Replace “never for me” with “someday for me too.”

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9. Expect Ups and Downs

Recovery rarely moves in a straight line. Terry put it this way:

You see what people think recovery looks like—here’s the problem and here is the recovery from it and there’s that lovely straight line between the two. And then what it really looks like is just this tangled ball of yarn with ups and downs and backs and forths.

Cara agreed:

One week I went in and I was feeling great… and the next session I just bawled my eyes out. It just shows the bumpiness of it and paying gratitude to the happiness, but also knowing that in the really dark times that you’ve felt happiness the week before—and it’s not impossible to get back to that.

Recovery looks like waves, not a ladder. Feeling bad again doesn’t erase progress.

Try this: Track your mood daily for 60 days. Watch for overall improvement, not perfection.

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10. Speak the Hard Truth

Cara shared how deeper honesty made therapy transformative:

I’ve been to therapy, but this was sort of the first time in therapy that I talked about what I needed to talk about… it was the first time where we validated that, the word trauma. It was quite a difficult year, but therapy has really been one of the things that has saved me throughout the darkness, 100%.

Healing begins when you speak the truth you’ve avoided. Real change follows transparency.

Try this: Write an uncensored page before your next session. Read it aloud to your therapist.

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11. Don’t Believe Depression’s Lies

Cara offered a life-saving reminder:

Don’t believe everything that your depression tells you, please don’t believe it. And yeah, you are a human being and you deserve to live and you deserve to have a happy life.

Depression’s voice sounds convincing, but it lies. You don’t need to “feel” hopeful to act like hope is possible.

Try this: Prefix painful thoughts with “My depression is telling me…” to create distance from them.

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12. Borrow Strength from Others

Terry explained the importance of peer voices:

A reassurance like that, a message of hope from somebody who’s been hopeless, just carries a different weight.

Cara agreed and added:

Everybody told me this… “Cara, you know, this is going to get better” and I almost rolled my eyes at them and I was like “You don’t know that.” But it does. I don’t know when, I don’t know how, but it really, really does.

Hearing lived experience creates believable hope. Connection is medicine.

Try this: Listen to a lived-experience podcast or join an online support group when you feel isolated.

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13. Find Stillness in Small Moments

Cara shared how small, sensory experiences remind her that peace still exists:

Whether it be you see two people hug on the street and that just gives you a wee bit of hope that love is possible or you’re sitting drinking a coffee and all you’re kind of thinking about is the actual coffee and nothing else and you say to yourself, I was actually content there for 10 seconds.

• Why it helps: Depression drags you into past regrets or future fears; the body brings you back to now.
• Practice: Let sensory awareness become your refuge.

Try this 5-5-5 reset:

1. See five shapes.
2. Hear five sounds.
3. Feel five points of contact (chair, air, clothing, floor, heartbeat).

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Final Thoughts

As Terry reflected after the interview, Cara’s story reminds us that recovery isn’t about eliminating pain—it’s about remembering that joy can coexist with it. The flashes of hope, though brief, are proof that light always finds its way back.

As Terry expressed:

One of the things I’ve learned from our guests is, we as humans—not even just humans with depression—tend to find what we’re looking for. If we look for reasons that our value in the world is affirmed, we can usually find something. And if we look for ways that we have been made to feel worthless, we will find those too.

Through therapy, honest dialogue, and gentle awareness of life’s smallest moments, Cara demonstrates what it means to hold on—and how, even in the darkest hours, hope can quietly begin again.

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Key Takeaways

• Therapy is messy but essential. Progress often looks chaotic before it becomes clear.
• Validation heals. Naming trauma and depression breaks cycles of shame.
• Small joys are lifelines. Ten seconds of peace matters.
• Take one day at a time. Tomorrow is more achievable than forever.
• You deserve light. Love, connection, and happiness belong to you too.
• Peer voices empower. Hope resonates most deeply when spoken by someone who’s lived it.

This long-form listicle summarizes a conversation from the Giving Voice to Depression podcast hosted by Terry McGuire. In this episode, Terry and co-host Carly speak with Caryn, a listener who shares her lived experience navigating treatment-resistant depression (TRD), the hard work of finding the right care, and the everyday practices that make recovery feel possible.

Depression is both real and hopeful—those dual truths frame the entire interview. Caryn’s story moves from years of deep, physical, isolating pain to a season of cautious celebration: she has a therapist who fits, a support system she trusts, and a treatment plan that finally gives her energy to engage with life. What follows are the most practical, heart-level takeaways from Caryn’s journey—organized so you can skim, save, and share.

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1. Recognize Seasonal and Emotional Patterns

Caryn has noticed a yearly deepening around October. Instead of bracing alone, she alerts friends in advance. When the wave hits, she and her circle already have a plan.

• Make a trigger calendar: seasonal shifts, anniversaries, work cycles, and holidays can amplify symptoms.
• Communicate early: text trusted people before your “season” starts: “If I go quiet, please check in.”
• Stock supports: schedule extra therapy, refill meds, prep food, and clarify boundaries.

As Caryn acknowledged:

My depression is always the deepest of it has always started in October. I had actually had a feeling that it was coming. So I did tell my friends. I’m like, yep. I said, I have a feeling things are going to be rough in the next few weeks. I said if I’m, if I need you, can you be there?

This is emotional weatherproofing: you can’t stop the storm, but you can board the windows.

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2. Focus on One Minute at a Time

In acute episodes, Caryn doesn’t try to “win the day.” She narrows the time horizon until it’s survivable.

• Minute-by-minute coping: break tasks into 60-second steps—sit up, drink water, open the blinds.
• Micro-rewards: every tiny action counts; the point is momentum, not perfection.
• Language shift: “I’m living for the minute” turns crushing days into manageable intervals.

As Caryn put it:

I think when I go through those times, I really have to just make it through the next minute. You know, I have to put the clock back a little bit and say, okay, I’m not living for today. I’m living for the minute.

This is not giving up; it’s right-sizing recovery.

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3. Keep Searching for the Right Therapist

Caryn spent three years searching for a therapist who fit. The difference when she found the right one felt “liberating.” Fit, not perfection, is the aim.

• Qualities she needed: full attention, non-judgment, genuine care, and clinical steadiness.
• Expect trial and error: chemistry, approach (CBT, psychodynamic, trauma-informed), and logistics all matter.
• Permission to change: you’re allowed to switch; that’s not “failing”—it’s advocating.

As Caryn reflected:

I’ve spent the past three years looking for the perfect therapist. And I’ve went through a lot of rough ones, but I finally have found the one for me and to have that in my life is so liberating. I finally am not fighting anymore for the help that I need.

Therapy is a relationship. Relationships take time to find and time to grow.

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4. Let Medication Support Your Energy

After many disappointments, a medication shift gave Caryn a striking lift—in five days. That surge of energy didn’t “solve” everything, but it unlocked participation: therapy, walks, work, and normal routines.

• Reframe meds: not weakness—tools. We use insulin for diabetes; we can use antidepressants for depression.
• What to notice: more mental energy, easier initiation, fewer crashes, slightly brighter baseline.
• Combine approaches: meds + therapy + social support + daily habits often work together.

As Caryn shared:

I felt that release. It’s like all of a sudden my shoulders went back. A smile went on my face and I was like, is this too good to be true? This is the best I have felt in years. All of a suddenly this rejuvenation, you know, and this feeling like, oh my gosh, I can tackle the world.

And later, Caryn added:

It finally just gave me some of the energy, like, okay, I can go to therapy and have productive sessions. I can take a walk on a nice day. I can, you know go to work and be very productive and, and normal is in quotation. Just the fact that, you know, just to know that there are things out there that can make a difference.

Hope can arrive chemically. Use it to re-enter life.

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5. Build and Use Your Support System

Caryn told friends in advance that a hard stretch was coming. When she needed to cry—ugly, heaving, relentless—she called. Her friend stayed present for 15 minutes. It helped.

• Script it: “If I call and say I need to cry, can you just listen for 10–15 minutes?”
• Differentiate support: Friends for presence, professionals for treatment.
• Normalize activation: “It’s time to call someone” becomes a skill, not a last resort.

As Caryn recounted:

I remember calling her up and when she says, Caryn, should I call the hospital? Should I come over? Should I do this? I said, no. I said I think all I need to do is cry. And she was like, okay. And she let me cry for like 15 minutes straight, nonstop… and it was so deep. But like after like 10, 15 minutes I just said, okay, I’m done now.

Connection doesn’t fix the illness; it strengthens the person.

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6. Know Who to Call and When

A hallmark of Caryn’s growth is triage: she asks, “Is this for friends or a professional?” That clarity prevents overloading loved ones and ensures she gets the care she needs.

• Create a contact map:
  • Friend A: distraction or walks
  • Friend B: late-night listening
  • Therapist: trauma work, treatment
  • Doctor/Prescriber: medication management
• Set expectations: ask what each person can realistically offer.
• Respect limits: healthy relationships have boundaries.

As Caryn clarified:

Now what’s kind of nice is that I can see, you know, okay, this is not a situation for my friends. This is a situation for a professional.

This is not cold—it’s wise.

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7. Practice Permission, Not Perfection

When symptoms spike, pushing often backfires. Caryn practices self-permission: pause without guilt, then re-enter when capacity returns.

• Mantras to try:
  • “This is temporary.”
  • “Rest counts.”
  • “I can try again later.”
• Grace in action: cancel plans, shorten work blocks, choose the 5-minute walk over the 5-mile ideal.
• Watch the shame-loop: guilt ≠ motivation; compassion sustains effort longer.

As Caryn encouraged:

Things that help me now, I think just sometimes just giving yourself that time when you need it. That is crucial. If you are not in a good state of mind and you’re forcing yourself to go out and go to work or to go and do normal things, if you can’t do it at that time, give yourself that grace and give yourself the time that you need.

Gentleness is productive.

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8. Relearn Habits One Step at a Time

If depression disrupted hygiene, sleep, food, movement, and social rhythms, expect rehab, not instant bounce-back. Caryn talks about retraining her brain after years in “the pit.”

• Occupational-therapy mindset: incremental, repeatable, graded exposure to normal life tasks.
• Stack small wins: shower cap days → full rinse → hair wash → moisturize.
• Track cues: morning light, warm beverage, laid-out clothes—make the first step friction-free.

As Carly observed:

We think of it as a mental health situation that it is located just in the brain, but that physical lethargy that can come with it, that flatness, the amount of effort it takes, I know I’ve certainly felt that.

Consistency beats intensity.

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9. Expect Your Toolkit to Evolve

What helps in one episode may not in the next. Caryn’s toolkit evolves: sometimes journaling helps; sometimes it doesn’t.

• Toolkit menu (rotate, don’t force):
  • Body: warm shower, short walk, stretch
  • Mind: journaling, thought-labeling, one-page plan
  • Soothing: weighted blanket, scent, music
  • Connection: text, voice memo, scheduled call
• Green/Yellow/Red plans: create options for different symptom levels.

As Caryn explained:

That’s the thing what I noticed too, is that my toolkit changes all the time, each episode that happens, you know, sometimes journaling is a really good tool for me, whereas sometimes that’s just not going to cut it for me.

The tool isn’t “wrong” if it doesn’t help today. Try another.

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10. Let Emotion Move Through You

Caryn’s 15-minute cry wasn’t a breakdown; it was breakthrough. Afterward she noticed relief and reset. Emotions move when they’re allowed to finish.

• Contain it: set a 10–20 minute timer, choose a safe space, hydrate after.
• Pair it: follow a cry with grounding—hand on heart, name five things you see.
• Reassure yourself: “My nervous system is discharging; I’m okay.”

As Terry gently checked in:

The day you needed to cry, were you having suicidal thoughts or were you suicidal?

And as Caryn reassured:

I wasn’t but it was like i just want to make sure the depression itself was that depth it was that deep it was dark… I’m just so glad that I’m at a point in my life where I know that I can reach out. And I know that that I am not alone in anything whatsoever.

Catharsis is care.

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11. Celebrate Progress, Not Perfection

One of Caryn’s biggest wins: suicidal thoughts have receded even when depression symptoms linger. That is massive.

• Track meaningful metrics: safety, engagement, self-compassion, recovery time after a dip.
• Language upgrade: from “I’m still broken” to “I’m improving the version of me that exists now.”
• Borrow belief: let others’ confidence sustain you until your own returns.

As Terry affirmed:

That is a huge stride, Caryn.

A listener’s words also stayed with Caryn during a program:

Caryn, you’re never gonna be the same person that you once were. But you are going to be an improved version of that person that you used to be. You’re gonna be a better person.

A different self can be a truer self.

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12. Keep Looking for the Light

Two metaphors thread Caryn’s story:

1. Weatherproofing: When you know a storm is coming, you prepare home and heart.
2. Light through a crack: Even a sliver counts; sometimes the light fills the room.

• Why metaphors help: they translate symptoms into plans.
• Try your own: tides, seasons, tunnels—pick one that invites patience.
• Practice noticing: when a “sliver of light” appears (a laugh, a text back, a productive session), name it.

As Caryn encouraged others:

There is light, you know, even it’ll be in various shades. You know sometimes it’s just a little bit of light that you see through that crack take in that little bit a light while you can yeah and sometimes you see a whole huge you know room full of light and you know oh my goodness be extra grateful for that.

Tiny light is still light.

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13. Reframe Resistance as Hope

“Treatment-resistant” doesn’t mean hope-resistant. Caryn’s experience reminds us that resistance is situational, not permanent: a different dose, a new medication class, a trauma-informed therapist, a better-timed support call—any one of these can shift the system enough for light to enter. Progress might come as relief first, clarity next, then capacity. Each is meaningful.

As Carly closed with gratitude for lived experience:

It’s something that I don’t believe from people who’ve never experienced depression, but it’s hard to not believe Caryn when she says what she says.

• You are not behind if it took years to find a fit.
• You are allowed to feel proud for trying again.
• You are allowed to rest when your body says “not yet.”

Recovery is less a finish line and more a relationship—with your body, your people, and your care.

This article summarizes a powerful episode of the Giving Voice to Depression podcast hosted by Terry McGuire, featuring licensed therapist Carolina Bracco. Together, they explore how growing up with emotionally immature or overly critical parents can deeply influence a person’s mental health and inner world—and how healing and self-compassion can begin at any stage of life.

Bracco, a childhood trauma survivor herself, shares how patterns of shame, criticism, and emotional neglect create an internalized belief that we are unworthy or “not enough.” Yet through awareness, self-parenting, and compassion, she reminds listeners that healing is possible—even for those who never received emotional safety as children.

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1. Understanding Childhood Trauma Beyond the Obvious

When most people hear the term childhood trauma, they often think of overt abuse or neglect. But as Bracco explains, emotional wounds—like being raised by highly critical or emotionally unavailable parents—can be just as damaging.

“There’s a lot that happens as a child that we don’t know how to process,” Carolina said. “When the kid feels like, ‘I can’t be mad at my parents,’ they direct that anger toward themselves. The inner critic grows from there.”

This kind of trauma isn’t about one dramatic event. It’s about chronic emotional invalidation, where a child’s feelings, thoughts, or needs are dismissed. Over time, that child learns to mistrust themselves, internalizing blame to preserve their connection with caregivers.

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2. The Scapegoat and the Seed of Shame

Bracco shared that she was scapegoated as a child—blamed for family problems and burdened with others’ emotions.

“I was criticized non-stop, hit, and made to feel like I was the problem,” she recalled. “They mirrored their projections onto me.”

Being scapegoated teaches children that love and acceptance are conditional. This belief breeds toxic shame—a painful conviction that “something is wrong with me.”

In adulthood, this shame may manifest as:

• Constant self-doubt
• People-pleasing behaviors
• Fear of failure or rejection
• Depression and self-criticism

The inner dialogue becomes harsh and unforgiving, echoing parental voices that once judged or dismissed the child.

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3. The Inner Critic: When a Parent’s Voice Becomes Your Own

The inner critic often develops as a survival mechanism. When expressing anger or sadness wasn’t safe, that energy turned inward. Children learned, “If I’m the problem, at least I have control.”

But as adults, that same critic becomes an unrelenting internal bully.

“That inner voice tells me, ‘You’re worthless, you can’t do anything right,’” Carolina said. “My adult self has to constantly remind that inner child that it’s not true. It’s ongoing work.”

Learning to reparent the inner child means recognizing that voice and gently challenging it. It’s a process of learning to speak to yourself with compassion, patience, and truth.

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4. Why It Was Safer to Blame Yourself Than Your Parents

Children depend on parents for safety and survival. For that reason, anger toward a caregiver can feel life-threatening.

As Bracco explained:

“It’s easier to be angry at yourself than at the people you love.”

That statement captures why many survivors of childhood trauma struggle to set boundaries or express anger even decades later.

The child’s mind reasons:

• “If I’m bad, maybe I can fix it.”
• “If I’m the problem, I can earn their love.”
• “If I blame them, I could lose them.”

These early coping mechanisms may have protected the child then—but they become barriers to healing in adulthood.

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5. Highly Critical Parents: A Hidden Source of Emotional Abuse

While physical or verbal abuse is more recognizable, chronic criticism can be just as corrosive.

Bracco defined highly critical parents as those who constantly find fault—never offering praise or unconditional love.

“Every day, there’s something wrong,” she said. “The appearance is never good, the grades aren’t good, the behavior isn’t right. You start to believe, ‘I’m the problem.’”

Over time, this dynamic can lead to:

• Low self-esteem
• Perfectionism
• Anxiety and depression
• Emotional numbness or disconnection

When every action is judged, children learn that love must be earned—not freely given.

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6. The Link Between Toxic Shame and Depression

Terry McGuire, who has lived with depression herself, made a poignant observation during the interview:

“My depression tells me, ‘I’m not enough. I am worthless. Maybe not worth existing.’ It’s the same language you used.”

Bracco agreed. The voice of depression often mirrors the voice of childhood criticism.

That’s why many people experiencing depression don’t realize they’re also grieving unmet childhood needs—for validation, safety, and love. Recognizing this link can be life-changing.

When individuals trace those internal messages back to their origins, they can begin to say:
“That voice isn’t mine. It’s something I learned—and I can unlearn it.”

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7. Reparenting the Inner Child: A Path Toward Healing

So how do we replace that cruel inner voice with a compassionate one?
Bracco suggests beginning with simple, somatic practices.

“Put a hand on your heart or your stomach,” she explained. “Say to that inner child, ‘I see you. I hear you. You’re safe now. You’re not alone.’”

This process, called reparenting, is about becoming the nurturing, steady adult you needed as a child.

Ways to reparent yourself:

• Acknowledge your emotions instead of suppressing them
• Soothe yourself through grounding exercises or gentle touch
• Affirm your worth with phrases like “I’m safe now” or “It wasn’t my fault”
• Set boundaries that protect your peace

Reparenting doesn’t erase pain—it teaches you how to hold it with love instead of judgment.

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8. Emotionally Immature Parents: The Silent Wound

Bracco described emotionally immature parents as those who lack empathy, self-awareness, or the capacity to model healthy relationships.

“They can’t repair relationships or take accountability,” she said. “You as the child feel like the parent.”

This role reversal—called parentification—forces children to suppress their own needs to care for an unstable parent.

The long-term effects include:

• Chronic loneliness
• Disconnection from self and others
• Difficulty trusting
• Feeling unworthy of care

When a parent refuses to apologize, repair, or grow, the child learns that love equals self-abandonment. Healing means reversing that message—learning that your needs matter and your feelings are valid.

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9. Breaking the Cycle: Becoming the “Good Enough” Parent

Both Bracco and co-host Carly McCollow emphasized that healing doesn’t end with personal growth—it extends into how we parent and relate to others.

Carly reflected on the compassion at the heart of this discussion, saying that emotionally immature parents often did the best they could with the tools they had. But as adults, it’s our responsibility to do better.

“Perfect parents don’t exist,” she said. “But we can all become good enough parents.”

That means:

• Taking accountability when we cause harm
• Repairing relationships rather than avoiding discomfort
• Doing the work—through therapy, reflection, and honest communication
• Modeling emotional safety for the next generation

Bracco reinforced this idea:

“When you attend to your inner child, you learn how to attend to your own kids. You know that frozen state, that sadness—and you show them something different.”

Healing childhood trauma is both individual and generational. When one person chooses awareness, it ripples outward.

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10. Practical Strategies for Healing from Childhood Trauma

The episode concluded with a reflection from Dr. Lindsay Gibson’s book Recovering from Emotionally Immature Parents, offering two affirmations for survivors to carry with them:

• “I am just as important as they are.”
  This helps reclaim equality in relationships that once felt one-sided.
• “I have good stuff inside me.”
  This rebuilds self-worth that was eroded by years of criticism.

Carly explained that repeating these phrases during or after triggering interactions helps calm the inner child who still longs to be seen and accepted.

Additional healing strategies include:

• Therapy with a trauma-informed professional
• Writing letters (not necessarily sent) to express suppressed emotions
• Journaling about your inner child’s experiences and needs
• Connecting with supportive communities that validate your story
• Practicing mindfulness to observe your inner critic without judgment

Each small act of self-acceptance challenges the old programming that said you were too much, not enough, or unworthy of love.

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11. The Journey Toward Wholeness

Healing from childhood trauma is not linear, nor is it about assigning blame. As Carly reminded listeners, the goal is understanding—recognizing both the harm done and the humanity behind it.

When we move from self-blame to self-compassion, we begin to reclaim our sense of agency, safety, and belonging.

This process doesn’t rewrite the past, but it reshapes the future—one where love, honesty, and self-trust finally replace fear and shame.

“We can’t change our parents,” Carolina said, “but we can change how we relate to the voices they left inside us.”

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12. Key Takeaways

To reinforce the lessons from this conversation, here are some of the most impactful insights shared in the episode:

• Childhood trauma isn’t always visible. Emotional neglect, chronic criticism, and lack of repair can be as damaging as physical harm.
• The inner critic often mimics a parent’s voice. Recognizing it is the first step toward healing.
• Reparenting is a daily practice. Compassionate self-talk, boundaries, and emotional validation help retrain the nervous system.
• Healing requires accountability. Both in ourselves and in how we show up for others.
• You can break the cycle. By learning emotional regulation and modeling empathy, you create a healthier pattern for future generations.
• Self-worth is innate—not earned. You don’t have to prove your value through perfection, productivity, or compliance.
• Community matters. Healing accelerates when we share our stories and feel less alone.

These reminders reflect the essence of what Giving Voice to Depression offers: a safe place to hear truth, find connection, and rediscover hope.

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13. Final Thoughts

This episode is a tender invitation to look inward—not with blame, but with curiosity and care. It asks listeners to honor the child who learned to survive by shrinking, pleasing, or self-blaming—and to now offer that child something radically different: love without conditions.

Bracco’s message is ultimately one of hope. Healing from childhood trauma takes time, courage, and compassion, but it is possible. Every small act of awareness—every moment of self-kindness—plants a seed for a more grounded, peaceful, and authentic life.

For those beginning this journey, remember:
You are not broken. You are becoming whole.

This article summarizes a heartfelt conversation from the Giving Voice to Depression podcast hosted by Terry McGuire, featuring Mary, a 93-year-old woman who courageously shares her experience of living with depression later in life. Through her honesty, Mary sheds light on aging, loss, and the deep human need for connection.

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1. Depression in Older Adults Often Goes Unseen

Bridget explained:

Late-life depression affects about six million Americans. And of that six million, around 10% seek treatment.

As Terry added:

That probably has something to do with why the National Institute of Mental Health considers depression in people 65 and older to be a major public health problem.

Bridget continued:

The suicide rate among people 80 to 84 is more than twice that of the general population.

Behind these numbers are countless untold stories — many older adults live with depression that’s dismissed as “normal aging,” when in fact it’s treatable. The perception that sadness, grief, or fatigue are simply part of getting old keeps millions of people suffering in silence.

By naming these realities out loud, Giving Voice to Depression challenges a dangerous misconception: that emotional suffering somehow loses its urgency with age. The truth is, depression hurts just as much at 93 as it does at 23.

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2. Meet Mary: A 93-Year-Old Voice for the Silent Generation

Mary introduced herself with touching vulnerability. She shared:

I’m 93 years old and I’m going to write this down because I want to say what I want to say and I don’t trust myself to say what I want to say spontaneously. Given all that, here goes. I am an average person and I am depressed.

As Terry clarified:

Mary has not been formally diagnosed as depressed, in part because her generation, as she says, really doesn’t go to a doctor for something like that.

Mary’s words set the tone for the episode: raw, honest, and deeply human. Her story reminds us that mental illness is not a matter of weakness or willpower — it’s an experience that crosses all boundaries of age, gender, and circumstance.

In speaking openly, Mary does what few of her peers feel able to do: she gives voice to feelings that many older adults carry quietly, hidden behind polite smiles and stoic attitudes. Her bravery turns private pain into collective understanding.

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3. Growing Up Without Emotional Language

Mary described the attitudes she grew up with. She said:

In the time that I was brought up, when love yourself first was completely unheard of, and if you dwelled too much on yourself and your troubles, you would usually get a “get over it” or “you’re not the only pebble on the beach.”

As Terry reflected, those lessons shaped how entire generations approached emotions — with stoicism instead of softness. Emotional self-awareness was often mistaken for self-indulgence.

This cultural conditioning meant that people like Mary never learned the vocabulary to describe sadness beyond physical terms like “tired,” “lonely,” or “off.” Decades later, when depression appears, it’s often minimized or misunderstood — both by the person experiencing it and by those around them.

But recognizing this conditioning is a first step. The more we talk about mental health across generations, the easier it becomes for older adults to find validation and support instead of shame or dismissal.

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4. Loneliness Follows the Loss of Peers

Mary spoke honestly about what it feels like to outlive nearly everyone close to her. She said:

Now that all of my dearest friends have died, and my body is slowly failing, my tomorrows aren’t much better than my yesterdays, and at my age, I never expect them to be.

Even surrounded by family, she longs for peers who truly understand. She added:

There must be thousands of average people out there that feel just like me. I just need to talk to somebody. I don’t tell my children because I’d have them watching every move like a hawk. And I don’t want platitudes from anybody.

Her honesty cuts to the core of the emotional isolation that can come with aging. The loss of friends and peers doesn’t just bring grief — it also removes the social mirrors that help people feel seen. Without those relationships, daily life can begin to feel invisible.

As Terry and Bridget note, loneliness is one of the greatest risk factors for depression among older adults. Companionship and emotional presence, not just caregiving, can make a profound difference in an elder’s quality of life.

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5. Stigma Still Silences Many Seniors

As Terry noted, stigma about mental illness is stronger among the elderly than younger people. Mary expressed that self-judgment clearly. She wrote:

The average person like me doesn’t like to admit to depression. I associate it with a weakening on my part, when I should be coping better. Meanwhile, my low-grade depression messes up everything about how I feel about things now. What does it really matter anyway?

When Terry pointed out that she wouldn’t feel ashamed if she had diabetes or the flu, Mary responded simply. She said:

Yeah, I am ashamed. But I see that as a whole different thing. It’s like apples and oranges to me.

That “apples and oranges” line captures something powerful — the way physical illness feels legitimate while emotional suffering does not. Self-stigma, as Terry called it, is one of the biggest barriers to treatment and recovery.

Breaking that stigma begins with conversations like this one — honest, nonjudgmental, and rooted in respect for lived experience. When we speak about depression without fear, we make it easier for others to do the same.

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6. Silence Makes It Hard to Connect

Mary described the polite emotional distance that dominates many senior communities. She explained:

You just can’t come up and say, hey honey, let’s bare our souls to each other, I really feel sad, don’t you? If you said to me, how are you feeling today? I’d say fine, and you’d say fine right back. What good is that?

This “I’m fine” culture leaves little room for truth. Many older adults continue to socialize, but without the emotional depth that real connection requires.

As Terry encouraged her:

What stops you from saying at the dinner table, I was interviewed on depression today for a project somebody’s doing. If that’s a topic any of you are familiar with or wanna talk about, I’m your gal.

Mary replied with warmth and hesitation. She said:

Sure, I can try that tonight. That’s a new approach. But I don’t think I’ll get any takers — but I can let you know.

Even small openings like that — gentle invitations to connect — can make a world of difference. When one person speaks up, it gives others permission to drop their masks too.

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7. Showing Up Matters More Than Words

When Terry asked how others could best support her, Mary answered with clarity and humor. She said:

Be there, just be there. And I don’t mean talking about depression, just be around and show up. If you can’t show up when I’m alive, don’t bother to show up when I’m dead.

Mary also shared how one relationship helps her stay grounded. She said:

I have a granddaughter that really calls me almost every day, believe it or not. We just kind of check in. Sometimes we just say, we’re checking in. And that means a great deal to my life.

Her point is simple yet profound: presence heals. It’s not about having the perfect response — it’s about choosing to show up, again and again.

As Bridget observed, this truth crosses generations. Whether it’s a daily text, a shared cup of coffee, or a few minutes on the phone, connection reminds people they still matter.

For those wondering how to support an older loved one, start there. Don’t underestimate the power of “just checking in.”

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8. Healthy Habits Help, But Compassion Heals

Bridget discussed how lifestyle habits can support mental health in older adults. She explained:

Healthy habits really matter — continuing to use your brain, continuing to move your body, and to eat to support your mood. That means minimizing sugar and refined carbs, getting seven to nine hours of sleep every night, and finding some form of support.

She acknowledged the limits of these steps, though. Bridget added:

You can do all those things and still be depressed. But it’s a good place to start.

Healthy routines provide structure and small wins — vital ingredients for emotional resilience. But Bridget and Terry both agreed: the greatest medicine often comes from connection, not correction. You can exercise and eat well, but if you feel unseen or unheard, the loneliness lingers.

Self-care matters. But community care — the act of noticing, reaching out, and showing empathy — often matters even more.

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9. Everyone Wants to Feel Cared For

As the conversation closed, Terry shared what tied all their stories together. She said:

Whether it’s teenagers or people in their 20s or 30s, it just doesn’t matter. What do you want? You just want to know somebody cares, somebody’s there for you.

Bridget added another simple truth. She said:

That doesn’t even mean I want you to be here for me for an hour and a half. Maybe it’s just a quick phone call. Let me know that you’re thinking of me.

Terry ended with gratitude for Mary’s openness. She reflected:

I appreciate the fact that she did something she was uncomfortable with. Her generation doesn’t talk about it. I’m very grateful that she was willing to, so we could put a human face on it — and even have some laughs during the talk.

Mary’s story is proof that vulnerability can bridge generations. By breaking her silence, she invites others to do the same — to trade stoicism for honesty, distance for closeness, and shame for shared humanity.

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Key Takeaways

Mary’s story offers more than comfort — it’s a roadmap for understanding depression in later life. Here are the main lessons to carry forward:

• Depression in seniors often goes unnoticed. Many older adults mask their symptoms behind physical complaints or humor. Listening deeply and asking gently can help uncover what’s really going on.
• Generational stigma remains powerful. For those raised to “be tough,” admitting to depression feels like failure. Empathy and education are essential in undoing that internalized shame.
• Loneliness is more than being alone. It’s the ache of not being understood, the loss of shared history. The solution isn’t constant company — it’s meaningful connection.
• Presence is love in action. A phone call, a walk, or a quick visit can lift someone’s spirits more than grand gestures ever could.
• Healthy habits nurture resilience. Movement, good nutrition, and rest help stabilize mood, even if they don’t cure depression on their own.
• Conversation is medicine. Talking about feelings — even awkwardly — reduces shame and creates belonging.
• Everyone deserves to be seen. Whether young or old, we all need acknowledgment, empathy, and reminders that our lives still hold value and purpose.

Each of these takeaways circles back to one truth: healing begins with being heard. Mary’s story reminds us that it’s never too late to talk about how we feel — and never too early to listen when someone else opens up.

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Final Thoughts

Mary’s courage to share her story at 93 years old challenges every assumption we have about age, resilience, and mental health. She reminds us that depression is not a personal failure — it’s a human experience, one that thrives in silence but softens in conversation.

Her reflections also force us to confront uncomfortable realities. We live in a culture that reveres youth and sidelines aging, often forgetting that emotional pain doesn’t expire with age. Depression in older adults is not “natural.” It’s a symptom of disconnection — from peers, purpose, and sometimes from hope itself.

But connection can rewrite that story. Each call, visit, or open conversation is a thread that stitches meaning back into a life that feels frayed. When families take time to listen to their elders — not just about memories, but about emotions — they bridge decades of silence.

As Terry’s compassionate hosting shows, giving someone permission to speak honestly about their pain is one of the most loving acts we can offer. Mary’s willingness to share, despite her embarrassment and fear, proves that vulnerability is not weakness — it’s wisdom.

She speaks for a generation that rarely talks about depression, yet carries it quietly in their bones. By lending her voice, Mary gives others permission to find theirs. Her words remind us that showing up matters, that laughter can coexist with tears, and that it’s never too late to find meaning in being seen.

Perhaps the greatest lesson of all is this: the act of listening — truly listening — can save a life.

This article summarizes a conversation from the Giving Voice to Depression podcast hosted by Terry McGuire, featuring interventionist and psychotherapist Evan Jarschauer. It is written in the third person and reflects Terry’s grounded, hopeful, and no-nonsense tone.

1. Rethink “Intervention” Myths

Popular portrayals of interventions—especially in reality TV—often focus on confrontation and emotional shock value. But as the conversation makes clear, real-life interventions are much more layered and humane. Carly points out that these dramatized versions simplify a complex process that unfolds over time, not in a single climactic event.

As Carly explained:

They often sort of show substance use or behavioral addictions as problems that escalate to a single boiling point, when in reality, recovery is usually a long and non-linear process with a bunch of ups and downs.

This reframing sets the tone for the episode: real change doesn’t happen through ambush or spectacle. It requires patience, planning, and an understanding that both depression and recovery are gradual, deeply personal journeys.

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2. Accept That Depression Is Real

Evan Jarschauer emphasizes that depression is not laziness or lack of will—it’s a genuine illness that distorts thinking and emotion. Loved ones who see it as a moral failing often intensify the sufferer’s shame and isolation.

As Evan Jarschauer explained:

It is where it is something that is inside you, it is around you, and you don’t want to experience it, and it traps you and it traps the people that surround you.

Understanding depression as a medical and psychological condition allows families to respond with empathy rather than frustration, which becomes the foundation for meaningful support.

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3. See Refusal as a Symptom

Refusing help often signals despair, not defiance. People living with depression can lose faith that anything will change. For some, self-medication offers temporary relief but compounds the struggle long-term.

As Evan Jarschauer pointed out:

At the end of the day, if we stay in place, if the person stays in place, there is a certainty, a very high probability that things aren’t going to get better. So some type of intervention, some type change needs to occur.

Families can help by recognizing that refusal is part of the illness—then meeting it with consistency and compassion rather than anger or pressure.

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4. Stop Yelling

Anger and fear often lead loved ones to shout, plead, or demand change. But yelling doesn’t heal depression—it drives the person further into silence and guilt. Calmness is far more powerful than intensity.

As Evan Jarschauer said:

You can yell all you want but you’re not going to yell away the disorder, the disease. You’re not going to yell the depression out of them.

The more calm and consistent the approach, the more likely it is that the person will eventually feel safe enough to accept help.

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5. Avoid the “Petri Dish” Trap

Families sometimes help so much that they make it easier for symptoms to persist. When loved ones over-function—cooking, cleaning, or covering responsibilities—they may unintentionally create an environment where depression thrives unchecked.

As Terry reflected:

It was really eye opening to hear him use the metaphor of a petri dish and that we may in fact be allowing the symptoms to grow as opposed to challenging the person to get help and shift something significantly.

Helping doesn’t mean rescuing. True compassion includes boundaries that gently encourage accountability and independence.

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6. Bring in Outside Help

When a family’s efforts reach their limit, it may be time for a professional interventionist or therapist to step in. An outside perspective can de-escalate emotions and bring structure to chaos.

As Evan Jarschauer shared:

Maybe that’s the time to stop trying to get through and get somebody in there that may be able to help get through as a third party, caring, competent, comprehensive professional… to help break through that impasse.

Involving outside help is not a failure—it’s an extension of love and a practical step toward stability.

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7. Plan Before You Act

Interventions work best when they’re organized in advance. The family must agree on who participates, what’s said, and how to handle resistance or crisis moments.

As Evan Jarschauer explained:

Well, before I show up, we’ve organized a plan. In other words, we have already looked at who’s going to be participating, what’s gonna be said, what’s not gonna be said, what are the contingency plans in place if that person needs to be stabilized, be hospitalized?

Preparation replaces panic with purpose. It ensures that love is expressed clearly and consistently.

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8. Join Their Pain

Connecting starts with empathy, not argument. Instead of debating their perceptions, join the person in their emotional experience.

As Evan Jarschauer expressed:

I am working with the people that love you the most to help look at us a way that you don’t have to feel that pain.

This gentle language communicates presence rather than pressure—an invitation to find relief together instead of demanding compliance.

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9. Lead With Love and Accountability

Evan’s approach centers on what he calls “high love, high accountability.” Families must show compassion while maintaining healthy boundaries. Support without structure can enable avoidance, while structure without warmth can alienate.

Evan Jarschauer described it clearly:

If you handle this with dignity, respect, with understanding and conviction, we have a very high probability of having that person recognize that the people that care and love that person the most are just not going to roll over.

Love is strongest when it is steady, respectful, and clear about limits.

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10. Treat Safety as Care

When danger or crisis arises, taking decisive action is an act of compassion. Hospitalization or stabilization isn’t a punishment—it’s a form of care that ensures safety and opens the door to recovery.

Families can prepare by identifying nearby hospitals, having emergency contacts ready, and deciding who will accompany their loved one if needed. Safety is not control—it’s the foundation of hope.

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11. Focus on Aftercare

An intervention is only the beginning. True recovery requires long-term attention—therapy, medication management, and supportive routines that help re-establish stability.

Evan encourages families to see recovery as a process measured in consistency, not speed. Continued communication, small goals, and regular check-ins reinforce progress and prevent relapse.

Healing is a long arc. Patience and presence are the most powerful supports families can provide.

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12. Care for the Caregivers

Caring for someone with depression can be exhausting, even traumatizing. Caregivers often lose sleep, experience anxiety, and feel guilt when things don’t improve. Evan and Carly both emphasize that caregivers need care, too.

As Carly emphasized:

We can’t pour from an empty vessel.

And as Terry observed:

You’re not sleeping, you’re not eating, your attention is constantly diverted. Everything’s one eye somewhere else.

Caring for yourself makes your compassion sustainable—and models healthy behavior for your loved one.

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13. Communicate for Safety

Depression alters perception and sensitivity. A tone that feels firm to one person may sound harsh to another. The way love is expressed—through tone, pacing, and presence—matters as much as the words themselves.

As Carly explained:

When someone approaches you with love… eventually that’s what allows some of the light to peek in and the person to become a little more porous and accept those things.

Love isn’t just spoken; it’s embodied through calmness, consistency, and compassion.

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14. Offer Choices, Not Orders

Depression erodes agency, so giving small choices can help restore a sense of control. “Would you like to go today or tomorrow?” is far more effective than “You have to go.”

These micro-decisions build confidence and reinforce the person’s role in their own recovery, turning helplessness into participation.

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15. Use the Family Checklist

Before intervention:

• Research treatment options and verify access.
• Choose participants and define roles.
• Prepare clear, kind statements.

During:

• Speak calmly and stay focused on love.
• Offer one realistic next step.
• Avoid guilt or blame.

If help is refused:

• Hold boundaries without hostility.
• Revisit the conversation later.
• Monitor safety consistently.

Organization keeps compassion from becoming chaos.

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16. Avoid Common Pitfalls

Families often slip into patterns that delay healing—rescuing too much, using threats, or wavering on boundaries. Recognizing these habits allows for adjustment instead of guilt.

As Carly noted elsewhere in the episode, helping “with” someone instead of doing things “for” them is crucial. The goal is collaboration, not control.

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17. Let Love Lead

At the core of every successful intervention is persistent, patient love. Structure provides safety, but love provides motivation.

As Evan Jarschauer summarized:

Would you like to not feel that pain? Let’s find a way to do that.

When love is steady and accompanied by boundaries, it becomes a lifeline that reminds the person they are still seen, valued, and worth saving.

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Key Takeaways

• Refusal to seek help is often driven by hopelessness, not defiance.
• Compassion works best when paired with structure.
• Calm communication is more effective than confrontation.
• Safety interventions are acts of love, not punishment.
• Caregivers need their own healing resources.
• Real recovery takes time, patience, and community.

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Final Thoughts

This episode of Giving Voice to Depression reframes intervention as an act of enduring compassion. Evan Jarschauer’s insights, combined with Carly’s reflections, remind listeners that helping someone who resists help requires empathy, patience, and planning.

Change doesn’t come from ultimatums or panic. It comes from showing up again and again with calm love, informed boundaries, and a belief that healing is possible. Compassionate intervention is not about control—it’s about connection.

In the end, it’s a message that sits at the heart of this podcast: no one has to walk through depression alone, and hope—while fragile—is always worth holding onto.

This article summarizes a heartfelt conversation from the Giving Voice to Depression podcast, hosted by Terry McGuire. In this episode, Terry speaks with Lori, who shares how her rescue poodles helped her heal through depression, heartbreak, and recovery.

Through her story, we see the many ways animals can help us reconnect with hope, love, and purpose — even in life’s darkest moments.

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1. Unconditional Love

One of the most healing aspects of pet companionship is unconditional love — the kind that expects nothing, judges nothing, and gives everything.

Lori reflected on how her animals gave her a reason to get up and move forward during the most painful time of her life:

Had I not had animals, I really, theoretically, instinctively would not have gotten out of bed. That’s how sad I was.

This kind of steady, simple love often reaches us when words or people can’t. Pets don’t ask why you’re crying or withdraw when your energy is low. They simply stay close, breathing beside you, reminding you that you are not invisible.

For many people living with depression, this presence can be lifesaving. When you feel undeserving of love, a dog’s wagging tail or a cat curling on your lap quietly insists that you are, in fact, worthy.

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2. Companionship That Heals

Depression isolates. But a pet’s constant presence can gently break that silence.

Lori shared how her three poodles became her emotional anchors, offering comfort and loyalty through heartbreak:

Brown became my fierce protector. He wouldn’t leave my side. He knew that I was hurting and he knew what I needed just instinctively. He healed my heart.

Having another being — even one that doesn’t speak — reminds us we’re still part of something living. A pet’s companionship can create a bridge back to connection when human relationships feel too heavy or overwhelming.

Psychologists often refer to this as “attachment through attunement.” Animals are naturally attuned to our emotional states. Their loyalty and empathy can soothe the nervous system, helping regulate the body’s stress response.

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3. Motivation to Move

Depression can make even small tasks feel impossible. Yet pets — especially dogs — require structure: walks, meals, and playtime.

As Lori explained, her dogs’ daily needs got her out of bed and into the world again:

They made me get out and walk in every kind of weather… I was speaking to people. Just the fact that I got out of my hole and was out in public functioning — that helped me get out of the funk that I was in.

Those walks served as small but powerful acts of resistance against depression’s paralysis. Even if she didn’t feel like moving, the act of walking her dogs gave her a rhythm and a sense of movement through the day.

Research supports this effect. Walking releases endorphins and increases exposure to natural light — both proven mood boosters. In this way, pets become built-in personal trainers and motivators.

For anyone recovering from depression, that gentle push to get outside can be the first step toward feeling human again.

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4. Restoring Purpose

Depression often steals our sense of meaning. Caring for a pet can bring it back.

Lori emphasized how her animals grounded her when her life felt chaotic:

They provide a level of normalcy when your life is chaotic and you’re feeling upside down. They don’t need much. They need consistency. They need walks, they need feeding, and they need love.

That consistency helps break the cycle of hopelessness. Even when motivation disappears, a pet’s simple needs pull you back into the present moment.

Purpose doesn’t always have to be grand or world-changing. Sometimes it’s as humble as making sure a living being is fed, comforted, and cared for. For people in the depths of depression, those acts can be small miracles of survival and service.

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5. Building Human Connection

Pets are powerful social bridges. Walking a dog or chatting at the park can spark conversations that help rebuild trust in others.

Lori described how her dogs became conversation starters and catalysts for reengagement:

People would stop and say, “Oh my God, those are beautiful dogs.” I was speaking to people. Just the fact that I was out… contributing to my dogs’ health — that helped me get out of the funk.

These short, friendly interactions may seem trivial, but they chip away at isolation. They remind us that we still belong in the world — that there are still kind eyes and warm smiles waiting for us outside our own homes.

In time, these moments can help restore confidence in social settings. For some, they lead to friendships or support networks that extend far beyond a leash or a park bench.

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6. Finding Calm and Mindfulness

Pets live entirely in the present moment, which makes them natural teachers of mindfulness.

As Lori beautifully observed, simply being near her dogs brought peace and stability:

There is a sense of peace when you see a dog sleeping… it really does set you into a tone of “Everything’s going to be fine.” Everything is okay. Things are at peace.

Watching a dog rest or a cat stretch invites us to pause. We begin to breathe more slowly, to observe rather than overthink. Over time, that calm can create space for clarity and gratitude — two powerful antidotes to despair.

Animal-assisted therapy is built on this principle. Studies show that spending time with animals lowers cortisol, the stress hormone, while increasing serotonin and dopamine — chemicals linked to happiness and relaxation.

When we align with a pet’s peaceful rhythm, even briefly, we rediscover our capacity for stillness.

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7. Accountability and Connection

While pets can’t call for help, caring for them creates accountability — a structure that encourages connection and responsibility.

Lori described a daily practice that combined the emotional safety of friendship with the steady rhythm of pet care:

Knowing that someone cares about me… I could have slipped very easily into the abyss of blackness… But the fact that I knew I was accountable to one person, that really helped me.

She and a close friend texted each other every morning — a simple check-in that offered reassurance and safety. “If she didn’t hear from me by 7 a.m.,” Lori explained, “she’d call the fire department.”

This combination of human accountability and animal caregiving created a powerful support system. It kept Lori engaged in life, anchored to both love and responsibility — two forces depression often tries to erase.

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8. Alternatives to Ownership

Not everyone is ready or able to adopt a pet — and that’s okay. There are still meaningful ways to benefit from animal companionship.

As Terry suggested:

If ownership is too big of a step at this point, you can consider offering to pet sit, walk a neighbor’s dog, or volunteer at a rescue.

These opportunities allow for emotional connection without the long-term financial or logistical responsibility of full-time ownership. Volunteering at a shelter, for instance, can provide both structure and a sense of service — two elements proven to improve mood.

Other options include fostering short-term or helping elderly neighbors with their pets. Each small act of care builds purpose, connection, and empathy — the same emotional nutrients that full-time pet owners receive daily.

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9. Healing Takes Time

Throughout her journey, Lori used one vivid metaphor to describe living with depression:

I really went through a period of just what I call swimming through mud. And the swimming through mud were days on end that I could barely get out of bed.

That image — slow, heavy, and endless — captures what depression feels like to so many. But even through that exhaustion, she held onto her brother’s simple but powerful wisdom:

If you’re feeling bad, you just keep going because right down the road, you’re going to turn right. And it’s going to get better.

Healing, she reminds us, rarely arrives in a single moment. It’s found in small, repeated acts — walking the dog, feeding the cat, sending the morning text. Pets help transform those acts into a rhythm of survival that, over time, becomes recovery.

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10. Key Takeaways

• Unconditional love heals: Pets offer consistent, nonjudgmental affection that helps counter feelings of worthlessness.
• Companionship combats loneliness: Their constant presence can fill the void when human connection feels out of reach.
• Routine creates stability: Feeding, walking, and caring for a pet introduces structure — vital for those struggling with depression.
• Movement matters: Daily walks or play sessions encourage physical activity and exposure to light.
• Purpose drives healing: Knowing a living being depends on you restores meaning and direction.
• Calm through connection: Observing a pet’s peaceful nature teaches mindfulness and reduces anxiety.
• Support systems multiply: Combining pet care with human accountability — such as daily check-ins — enhances resilience.
• Alternatives help too: Fostering, volunteering, or pet-sitting can deliver many of the same benefits as ownership.
• Healing takes patience: Like training a dog, recovery is a process of repetition, compassion, and time.

These principles show that healing doesn’t always come from therapy rooms or medications alone. Sometimes, it arrives in the quiet moments of companionship, fur under your hand, and a heartbeat beside your own.

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11. Final Thoughts

Pets remind us of something depression makes easy to forget: that we’re still capable of love, connection, and joy.

Lori’s story captures how animals can reach places within us that even language can’t. They don’t demand explanations or solutions. They simply offer presence — the kind that keeps us tethered to life when our own strength falters.

As Terry McGuire reflected during the episode:

Depression is real — and so is hope. Sometimes, hope has four legs and a wagging tail.

In those words lies the essence of what this conversation — and this podcast — is all about. Healing may come slowly, but it comes. And often, it arrives softly, in the shape of paws, purrs, and unconditional love.

This article summarizes a conversation from the Giving Voice to Depression podcast hosted by Terry McGuire. In this episode, Terry and co-host Carly speak with guest Lisa Sugarman, a survivor of suicide loss, about how grief after suicide is distinct—and what truly helps.

Suicide-related grief is different. It’s layered with shock, stigma, and unanswerable questions. As Lisa shares, it can feel like an isolating club no one wants to join—and one very few know how to support. Yet there are compassionate ways to help people carry this kind of grief.

Below are 12 grounded insights from Lisa, Terry, and Carly—practical, human-centered ways to comfort and support suicide loss survivors.

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1. Remember: They’re Not Alone

Lisa begins with the reminder that connection can save someone from drowning in isolation.

Lisa said:

I just want people to understand that they’re not alone. It’s such an isolating experience, but you’re not alone. There are so many people who’ve been impacted by suicide loss. People just don’t talk about it.

Try saying:

• “You’re not alone in this.”
• “You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”
• “I’m here for you, even if you don’t know what you need yet.”

Avoid quick reassurances or advice. Survivors need presence, not platitudes.

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2. Understand This Grief Is Different

Grieving a suicide is unlike any other kind of loss. It carries unique emotional terrain—guilt, anger, confusion, and stigma.

Lisa explained:

Suicide’s a funny animal in that way. It’s a very unique and nuanced kind of grief because you have elements of a suicide grief that don’t exist with traditional loss. That guilt piece can be huge with so many people.

Key differences:

• Survivors may obsess over “what could I have done?”
• The loss can be traumatic depending on circumstances.
• Friends often withdraw, deepening isolation.

This kind of grief needs specialized care and patience.

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3. Show Up Imperfectly

When someone is grieving, your willingness to show up means more than perfect words.

Lisa explained:

Don’t push. Don’t feel like you have to be doing all the talking. Just be there to listen. That’s the most powerful thing anyone can actually do—to hold space for someone who’s lost someone.

Be helpful by asking:

• “Would it help to talk about your person, or not today?”
• “Can I sit with you for a bit?”
• “How can I make this week easier for you?”

What matters most is presence without pressure.

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4. Say Their Name

Many people avoid mentioning the person who died, fearing it will cause pain. But for most survivors, hearing the name is a gift.

Lisa shared:

I know in my own life, how valuable it is to me when someone asks about my dad or mentions his name. It brings him back a little bit for me each time someone mentions his name.

Try: “I was thinking about [Name] today.”
It tells the survivor you remember and that their loved one’s life still matters.

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5. Reframe the “Burden” Myth

People who die by suicide often believe they are a burden, and that removing themselves will relieve loved ones. Lisa emphasizes this belief is false—and dangerous.

Lisa clarified:

They’re not leaving because of you. They’re leaving because they’re in pain and they don’t want to be in pain anymore.

Understanding this helps survivors release misplaced guilt. It reframes suicide as a tragic consequence of pain, not a reflection of love or worth.

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6. You Can Do Everything Right—And Still Lose Them

Some survivors never saw warning signs. Others noticed them and tried everything to help. Both carry pain.

Lisa emphasized:

Sometimes nothing you can say or do—no amount of help or counseling or medication—can fix the problem. Sometimes things happen in spite of our best efforts… It’s not your fault.

If you supported your person the best you could, hold that truth close. It’s not a failure of love or effort.

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7. Know About 988

When crisis hits, 988—the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline—can be a lifeline for anyone in emotional distress, not just those with suicidal thoughts.

Lisa suggested:

The best place that anyone can call and reach out to is the 988 crisis and suicide hotline. Whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever you might be dealing with—have it in your brain, in your pocket, on the fridge.

You can call, text, or chat with 988.
If someone is scared to call, offer to sit beside them, or test it together on a calm day to reduce fear later.

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8. Offer Specific, Gentle Help

Grief depletes energy and focus. Survivors often can’t identify what they need. Replace “Let me know if you need anything” with clear, practical offers.

Examples:

• “I can drop off dinner tomorrow—does pasta sound okay?”
• “Want help sorting mail or bills?”
• “I’ll check in again next week, just to say hi.”

Keep it simple, consistent, and flexible.

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9. Avoid Hurtful Questions

Even neutral-sounding comments can sting. Lisa cautions against assumptions or probing.

Lisa warned:

You might as well just punch someone directly in the face. That can be unbelievably hurtful to someone who is, of course, feeling some degree of guilt. Just really try and be as neutral and nonjudgmental as you can be.

Avoid saying:

• “Were there signs?”
• “I bet you feel so guilty.”
• “Everything happens for a reason.”

Do say:
“I’m so sorry. I care about you. I’m here when you want to talk.”

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10. Find People Who Get It

Not all grief support groups fit suicide loss. Lisa urges survivors to seek out spaces with others who truly understand.

Lisa said:

It’s an entirely different situation when you’re talking to somebody who has experienced the kind of loss that you’re experiencing. Even though there are similarities, every loss is slightly different depending on the relationship and situation.

Look for suicide loss survivor groups—in-person or virtual. Talking to others who’ve been there helps transform isolation into community.

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11. Use Crisis Lines Creatively

Crisis lines aren’t just for imminent danger—they’re for connection, grounding, and compassion.

As Terry reflected:

You can call and talk about anything with someone trained to listen—someone who won’t be shocked and who likely has heard it before. There’s a real comfort in knowing that someone will simply say, “Talk to me.”

Texting or chatting can help if speaking feels impossible.
Some people even call while driving, walking, or waiting in line—just to feel less alone.

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12. Trust That Grief Will Change

Grief after suicide never disappears, but its edges soften. Lisa closes the episode with hope grounded in reality.

Lisa shared:

Take heart, that the way that you feel right now is not always the way you’re going to feel. I’m not gonna say you’ll be over it because we never are, and I wouldn’t want to be. Grief is love. Trust that as you move forward at your own pace, you will not always feel the way that you feel right now. There is another side to it.

You don’t “get over” loss—you grow around it. The pain evolves as you carry your person forward.

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A Quick Guide for Supporters

When you don’t know what to do, keep this list in mind:

Do:

• Say their loved one’s name
• Ask open questions and listen
• Offer practical help
• Check in months later
• Encourage professional and peer support

Don’t:

• Ask for details of the death
• Imply guilt or failure
• Force timelines
• Go silent after the first few weeks

One steady phrase can carry weight:
“I’ll keep showing up for you, in whatever way you need.”

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For Survivors Seeking Support

If you’ve lost someone to suicide:

Lisa said:

If I had known that I could have picked up the phone and talked to someone who didn’t know me and didn’t know my situation, I think it would have been hugely valuable to me. Just knowing there are safe spaces to talk to people who understand makes a difference.

Try these steps:

1. Save 988 in your phone.
2. Join a virtual or local support group.
3. Write down names of trusted people to call during rough moments.
4. Plan for anniversaries and triggers with gentle self-care.

You don’t have to face it alone. Help exists—and healing, though slow, is possible.

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Why Language Matters

The words we use can either connect or wound.

Carly added:

Sometimes people can tell when you can’t handle their grief, and the relationship gets squeezed. They don’t feel like they can be their real selves. It’s so important to be a person who can hold that space.

Choose language that shows empathy:

• Say “died by suicide,” not “committed suicide.”
• Say “survivor of suicide loss,” not “victim.”
• Ask, “What would be most helpful today?”

Small shifts make a big difference.

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Keep Their Memory Alive

Remembering keeps love present. Rituals—big or small—help survivors find meaning in remembrance.

Terry reflected:

When I’ve interviewed survivors, they’ve said unanimously that they want people to talk about the person they lost. Bring them up. It lets them know you still remember and that you’re keeping their memory alive.

Ideas:

• Light a candle weekly.
• Share stories.
• Volunteer in their honor.
• Create an annual gathering or walk.

These rituals honor grief not as an ending, but as love that continues.

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Expand Compassion Beyond the Inner Circle

Terry reminds us that when suicide rates rise, the number of survivors rises too. Our collective compassion must grow with it.

Terry explained:

When we name grief, reduce shame, and offer practical support, we create conditions that help survivors carry the unbearable—and sometimes even find steadier ground.

Talk about suicide loss openly. Share resources. Invite empathy into workplaces, schools, and conversations. Every act of openness reduces stigma and builds connection.

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Quotes to Carry Forward

As Lisa said:

You’re not alone. There are so many people who’ve been impacted by suicide loss. People just don’t talk about it.

As Lisa explained:

They’re not leaving because of you. They’re leaving because they’re in pain and they don’t want to be in pain anymore.

As Lisa shared:

Take heart: the way that you feel right now is not always the way you’re going to feel… grief is love.

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Closing Thoughts

If you love someone grieving a suicide loss, show up—imperfectly, consistently, and without judgment.
If you’re a survivor yourself, know this: your love and your grief are two sides of the same devotion.

As Lisa, Terry, and Carly remind us, connection—whether with a friend, a peer group, or a counselor—can be the thread that helps you make it through the night and into another day.

This article summarizes a conversation from the Giving Voice to Depression podcast, hosted by Terry McGuire. In this deeply moving episode, journalist and suicide loss survivor Deb Sherwood shares her story of navigating grief, stigma, and the painful impact of words after her husband’s death by suicide.

Through Deb’s honesty and insight — and Terry and Bridget’s compassionate guidance — listeners learn how our language can either soothe wounds or deepen them, and how we can all become more thoughtful allies to those experiencing unimaginable loss.

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1. Understanding the Weight of Words

When a suicide occurs, language holds enormous power. As Terry and Bridget discussed with Deb, even well-intentioned phrases can cause harm when they reinforce stigma or minimize pain. Deb’s experience began with advice that exemplified the silence often imposed on suicide loss survivors.

As Deb explained:

Everyone said just don’t tell anybody because you’ll ruin his professional reputation. So you really kind of learn what the stigma is all about. And then when you do open up about it, when you do start to say this is what happened, that’s when the hard truth of why people say there’s so much stigma attached to it.

Terry emphasized the importance of rethinking common phrases — such as avoiding “committed suicide” or “successful attempt.” Instead, she reminded listeners to use accurate and compassionate terms like “died by suicide” or “suicide attempt.”

Words matter. They shape understanding, reduce stigma, and help survivors feel seen rather than shamed.

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2. How Professionals Can Help — or Harm

Deb’s encounters with healthcare providers after her husband’s death illustrate both sides of professional care: the healing and the harmful.

Some doctors offered genuine empathy and support. Others caused further damage.

As Deb recounted:

My primary care doctor, who was Bob’s as well, was terrific, incredibly supportive, and whatever I needed, empathetic, and whatever I needed, he was there for me. And I saw a psychiatrist. The second appointment, she said, “You know, it’s important that you take all the pictures that you have of him, anything that reminds you of him and either get rid of it or put it into deep storage… it’s time for you to move on.”

That appointment came just a month after her husband’s death. Deb recalled walking to her car thinking:

You know what? She’s right. I do need to move on. But from her, not from Bob.

This moment highlights how tone-deaf professional advice can worsen trauma. Genuine support requires listening, patience, and the humility to recognize that grief doesn’t follow a schedule.

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3. The Damage of Invasive Questions

Deb also faced probing, hurtful questions from another physician, who asked why she still wore her wedding ring or how she could have missed “the signs.”

As Deb reflected:

He said, “How could you not have seen it coming?” and I thought, how is this even possible that somebody’s asking me that question? I get the question, but why are you asking me that? What does it have to do with how you’re going to treat me as a patient? But why would you ask that?

These remarks, while perhaps rooted in curiosity, only deepened her pain. Terry reminded listeners that compassion means restraint — not every question needs to be voiced.

Grieving people are not case studies or mysteries to be solved. They are humans who deserve gentleness, not interrogation.

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4. When “Helping” Hurts

Even professionals trained in mental health can unintentionally cause harm. Deb described one devastating experience in a partial hospitalization program when a therapist asked her to recount the moment she discovered her husband’s body.

As Deb recalled:

I just ran out of the room in tears. She really changed my life — and not for the better. Because I struggled with PTSD after finding him… but after that question, I no longer just went to that mellow scene that I saw when I first walked in. I now went straight to everything unimaginable that you don’t ever want to see.

Terry responded with deep empathy, noting how retraumatizing such questions can be. This story underscores the importance of sensitivity and timing in therapy — pushing someone to relive trauma prematurely can make healing harder, not easier.

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5. Why Strength Is Often Misread

As a TV journalist and anchor, Deb was accustomed to appearing calm under pressure. That professional composure became a mask — one that led others to assume she was fine when she wasn’t.

As Deb explained:

When you work in news and you’re on camera, you learn to put your own stuff on the back burner and just come across like everything is okay because that’s what you have to do. So I think people felt like they could say these things to me and I would be okay with them. And it’s sort of like, no — just because my face is saying I’m okay doesn’t mean I am.

Her words remind us that outward strength can be deceiving. The people who appear “strong” may be those who most need gentle understanding and quiet support.

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6. The Hidden Cost of Careless Comments

Perhaps the most heart-wrenching part of Deb’s story comes from friends and acquaintances whose words cut deep.

As Deb shared:

One of our closest friends — a 30-year friendship — said, “I’m really sorry I ever considered Bob a friend. He took the easy way out.” And I thought, okay, I get that you’re feeling the loss, too. But how do you think that helps? Tell your spouse that, tell somebody at work that, but why would you say that to me?

Other remarks were equally cruel — comments like “I guess you didn’t have the kind of relationship you thought you did” or “Too bad he’s going to hell.”

Terry summarized the impact perfectly: If those comments sound shocking to hear, imagine their effect on someone living through fresh grief.

This section of the episode highlights the need to think before speaking, especially in moments when words can either add pain or offer peace.

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7. What To Say Instead

So, what should we say to someone who has lost a loved one to suicide?

Sometimes, the simplest words are enough.

As Deb noted:

You want to be able to say more than “I’m sorry for your loss,” but honestly, what more can you say?

If you want to help, be specific about what you can do instead of asking open-ended questions like “What do you need?” Deb shared her sister’s wisdom, learned from years in hospice care:

As Deb recounted:

She said instead of asking “What can I do?” say, “Can I come over on Tuesday with dinner and then help you with the laundry?” Instead of “What do you want me to do?” say, “How about I do this?”

These offers communicate genuine care and take the burden off the grieving person to delegate or organize help.

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8. Sharing Memories Can Heal

One of the most beautiful gestures Deb received came from a colleague who organized a memory booklet — a collection of written stories and reflections about her late husband.

As Deb described:

I’ve got this wonderful kind of memory booklet… Some of the memories I didn’t know about, stories I’d never heard before. It’s helpful — it’s not just words in my head, but something I can reread whenever I need to.

Sharing memories reminds survivors that their loved one’s life mattered. You can do this by:

• Writing a personal note about how their loved one impacted you
• Sharing a photo and the story behind it
• Including a funny or meaningful memory in a card
• Helping organize a collective memory project with family and friends

As Deb beautifully put it:

Who wouldn’t want to hear that their loved one made a difference — not just in your life, but in mine?

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9. The Power of Sensitivity and Self-Awareness

In one of the episode’s most memorable reflections, Bridget McGuire offered a simple, timeless framework for choosing words wisely.

As Bridget advised:

Before you speak, ask yourself three things: Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind? If it’s not at least two of those three — don’t say it.

She also echoed the wisdom passed down from her mother: “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

These reminders are especially vital when supporting someone who is grieving a suicide loss. Empathy requires restraint. Sometimes silence, presence, or a gentle hug says more than any words could.

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10. Finding Safe Spaces to Heal

After enduring countless insensitive encounters, Deb eventually found solace in a suicide loss support group.

As Terry shared, those spaces offer something few others can — understanding without judgment. Within the group, questions aren’t driven by morbid curiosity; they arise from shared experience.

Deb found it “the most helpful thing” in her healing journey. For those who feel isolated in grief, support groups can offer the validation and companionship that the outside world may not provide.

Bridget also encouraged listeners to trust their instincts when seeking professional help:

If a therapist doesn’t feel right, don’t go back. There are other people to try… Don’t stay with somebody who doesn’t resonate as healthy and helpful.

Finding the right fit — whether in therapy or a group — is a vital step toward recovery and peace.

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11. Forgiveness and the Long Road to Peace

Grieving a suicide often means confronting endless, unanswerable questions. Survivors replay events and decisions, wondering what they missed or could have changed.

As Deb reflected with honesty and grace:

You have to forgive yourself and go, “I would’ve done whatever I could’ve done for the rest of my life for you, but I don’t have that choice anymore.”

Her words are both heartbreaking and freeing. Healing doesn’t erase pain, but it does mean accepting that love and loss can coexist — and that self-forgiveness is part of survival.

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12. Choosing Words That Heal

By the end of the conversation, Terry and Bridget expressed deep gratitude for Deb’s courage in sharing her story — a story that helps others learn how to show up with compassion instead of fear.

This episode leaves listeners with a powerful truth: our words matter more than we realize. They can isolate or comfort, shame or support, harm or heal.

The next time we speak to someone grieving a suicide loss, may we pause, breathe, and choose language that carries kindness instead of judgment. Because sometimes, that small act of awareness can make all the difference.