Beyond the Silence: Why Community is Southeastern Ohio’s Lifeline

Walk through Marietta, Zanesville, McConnelsville, or Gallipolis, and you’ll see the heart of Southeastern Ohio. Neighbors wave from porches. Volunteers stock food pantries. Parents cheer from the bleachers. Farmers gather at the fairgrounds. Ours is a region woven together by tradition, hard work, and resilience. But beneath that strong fabric lies a hard truth—suicide continues to take lives at an alarming rate.

Rural communities like ours experience suicide rates nearly 40% higher than urban areas. Among men in some counties, it climbs to around 30 deaths per 100,000, well above the national average. The reasons are complex—economic hardship, lack of providers, stigma, and long miles between people and care. And yet, the solution is simple: connection. Suicide thrives in silence and isolation. Connection—real, authentic, community-driven connection—is its antidote.

Isolation doesn’t always mean someone living alone at the end of a gravel road. It can look like a farmer who only sees neighbors at the feed store, a young veteran who feels out of place even at the VFW, or a teenager scrolling social media in a crowded hallway, convinced no one really sees them. When people feel cut off, their struggles grow heavier. And in places where we’re taught to “tough it out,” silence can turn deadly.

A recent report from the Ohio Department of Health found that 14 of the 16 counties with the highest suicide mortality are rural. Many of them are right here in Southeastern Ohio. That’s not a coincidence. Rural life brings beauty, but it also brings barriers: long drives to the nearest provider, fewer care options, patchy internet, and stigma that keeps people from reaching out. But isolation isn’t inevitable. Connection can be built, nurtured, and strengthened—by all of us.

What gives me hope is that our instinct to show up for each other is alive and well in Southeastern Ohio. That’s the foundation of suicide prevention. Across the region, peer support networks are growing as farmers check in on farmers through “neighbor to neighbor” efforts and recovery communities lift each other up, celebrating milestones that matter. Faith communities are stepping forward too, with pastors, priests, and lay leaders learning suicide prevention skills like QPR (Question, Persuade, Refer). Sometimes a quiet conversation in a fellowship hall is what saves a life. Schools are also leaning in, building mental health ambassador programs that empower teens to support one another and to ask the question that matters most: “How are you, really?” Our Suicide Prevention Coalitions tie these threads together. By bringing law enforcement, healthcare, educators, survivors, and advocates to the same table, they are building bridges between people and services that strengthen the safety net around us all. Every potluck, every fair booth, every training isn’t just an event—it’s prevention in action.

Connection doesn’t have to be formal. Most of the time, it’s the small, consistent gestures that make the difference. A text to a friend, a knock on a neighbor’s door, or a simple, “Haven’t seen you in a while, how’s it going?” can change the course of a day—or a life. And in a region where pride runs deep, listening without rushing to fix things can be more powerful than advice. Just giving someone space to talk shows them that their pain matters and they are not alone. Even posting the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline number in a business window, a church bulletin, or a local Facebook group helps normalize seeking help. It sends a message that support is not just available—it’s acceptable. Suicide prevention isn’t only about professionals; it’s about neighbors, coworkers, friends, and families taking seriously the role they already play in each other’s lives.

We know our region faces real challenges. Many counties are officially designated Mental Health Professional Shortage Areas, and folks often drive an hour or more just to see a counselor. Broadband gaps make telehealth unreliable, and lack of transportation means appointments get missed. But connection is helping here too. Mobile crisis teams are beginning to bring services directly into rural communities. Libraries, schools, and community centers are setting up telehealth hubs so people without reliable internet can still connect with care. Training programs are expanding the local workforce so that more providers come from—and stay in—rural Ohio. These systemic changes matter, but so does the neighbor who offers a ride to an appointment, the employer who makes room for mental health days, or the coach who notices when a player seems “off” and takes time to check in.

So what can you do? You don’t need a degree or a title to make a difference. Start the conversation with the people around you. Ask your neighbor, coworker, or family member how they’re really doing, then listen and let them know they’ve been heard. Learn the signs of someone who may be struggling—withdrawal, hopelessness, sudden mood changes, or talk of feeling like a burden—and trust your instincts if something feels wrong. And share resources often. Make it normal to talk about the 988 Lifeline number, county crisis lines, and local suicide prevention coalitions. And if you’re the one struggling, please reach out. Connection goes both ways. Asking for help is not weakness—it’s strength.

Suicide prevention isn’t just the responsibility of mental health professionals. It belongs to all of us. Every voice matters. Every action counts. Here in Southeastern Ohio, we know the pain of loss. But we also know the power of coming together. When we choose connection over isolation, openness over silence, and compassion over stigma, we create a culture where suicide has less room to grow. Let’s honor the lives we’ve lost by building stronger bridges for those still here. Let’s make sure no one in feels invisible, unheard, or alone. Because connection doesn’t just change lives—it saves them. If you or someone you know is struggling, call or text 988 to connect with the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

Be kind—to yourself and to others. Jamie A. McGrew