Rural Resiliency: Say Their Names. Change the Ending.

September is Suicide Prevention Month. And for many of us, it’s not just another awareness campaign. It’s personal. It’s tender. It’s hard—and it’s necessary. Because behind the statistics are names. Behind the numbers are birthdays, favorite songs, and crooked smiles that used to light up the room. We don’t remember them by the way they died—we remember the way they lived. This month, we do both.

According to the CDC, every 11 minutes, someone in the United States dies by suicide. That’s more than 130 lives lost each day—sons, daughters, partners, parents, friends, coworkers, neighbors. And the pain that follows doesn’t just ripple—it crashes. It reshapes families, communities, and futures.

In Ohio, suicide is the second leading cause of death among individuals ages 10 to 34. In Appalachia, the impact is even more severe. We are a region known for showing up for each other—but not always for speaking up. We’re strong, but we often mistake silence for resilience. True rural resiliency isn’t about hiding pain or carrying grief alone—it’s about connection, honesty, and seeking help together.

I know this because I didn’t always see the signs. I was 21 when suicide crashed into my life. Someone I loved and hoped to build a future with succumbed to the darkness he had hidden from us all. From the outside, Christopher had every advantage. On the inside, he struggled. He carried his battles in silence, too embarrassed to seek help. Looking back, the signs were there—but we didn’t have the knowledge or language to respond. Strength in rural communities often comes from pulling through hard times, but rural resiliency means learning to ask hard questions and to notice the signs before it’s too late.

One of the most common things I hear when talking about suicide prevention is: “I don’t know what to say.” And I get it. These conversations feel delicate. Heavy. Intimidating. But here’s the good news: you don’t need a psychology degree to help someone. You just need to show up. To care deeply enough to ask, to listen, and to stay. That’s what rural resiliency looks like—neighbors and families showing up for each other, even in the hardest conversations.

Here are a few small actions that can save lives:

• Check in—really check in. Not the quick “How are you?” in passing, but the kind where you make space for honesty.

• Pay attention to changes. Withdrawal, hopelessness, increased substance use, or talk of being a burden—these can all be red flags.

• Ask the hard question. “Are you thinking about suicide?” Direct, caring questions can open doors to help.

• Stay connected. Sometimes, just being there is enough. Call back. Text again. Sit in the silence.

• Know your resources. The 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline is available 24/7—free, confidential, and always there.

We break the silence by telling the truth. Silence doesn’t protect people, it protects stigma! True rural resiliency isn’t about pretending we’re fine, it’s about admitting when we’re not, supporting each other in the struggle, and demanding better resources for our communities.

You are not weak for struggling. You are not broken for grieving. You are not alone.

Let me repeat, and say it louder for the people in the back:

You are not weak for struggling. You are not broken for grieving. You. Are. Not. Alone.

And if you’re reading this while carrying thoughts of suicide—please hold on. This isn’t how your story ends. There is help. There is hope. You are needed—not just by some, but by many.

September isn’t about pastel ribbons or performative hashtags. It’s about real action. Real stories. Real lives.

So here’s what you can do this month:

• Show up for your local Suicide Prevention Coalition

• Join a community walk or awareness event

• Share your story—or listen to someone else’s

• Post the 988 Lifeline where others can see it

• Advocate for accessible mental health services and stronger funding

• Check on your strong friend. Your quiet friend. Your “always funny” friend. Your you friend.

We remember. We speak their names. We build resiliency through connection, compassion, and courage. And we fight like hell to keep others here.

Because every life lost to suicide is one too many. Because the pain doesn’t have to be permanent. Because connection heals. Because hope is real. And because YOU might be the reason someone decides to stay.

Be kind to each other—and yourself.

-Jamie McGrew