In 2014, about a year before my son Charles died by suicide, we were sitting on the deck outside of our home in Virginia. He had just posted a rap video online. He was so proud of it, and I think with the video, he was trying to send me a sideways message that I missed.
I feel alone and scared
I turn on the light
And nothing’s ever there.
This world is desolate and cold
Go to school, Charles.
Do what you’re told and
Hope that your cycle of reality never gets old
Cuz one day everything you know in love
Will collapse and fold.
(From “Hell on Earth” by Charles Aubrey Rogers)
I asked Charles, “Why are all your raps so depressing? Can’t you write something more lighthearted?”—as if I could wash away his darkness and push him into the light.
That question shamed him for his pain, demonstrating a complete lack of understanding of the rap genre and what it meant to him. I had essentially and unintentionally communicated that the darkness in his soul was too ugly to put on display.
Missing Clues to Depression
I thought my words could inject happiness and cajole him out of all that unnecessary depression. Immediately, I knew I’d said the wrong thing and regret seized my heart. It still stings as I write this, although I have forgiven myself for it.
Up until then, my 19-year-old son had shared none of his written rap lyrics with me. I’d only heard his album, watched his video, and seen some song titles. After his death, I would read his “rap diaries” and include some in my first book, Diary of a Broken Mind.
Charles’ raps were poetry from the soul, and I now recognize these deeply personal expressions as his therapy. After his death, these songs answered so many questions about the “why?” surrounding his suicide.
Had I seen all of my son’s lyrics in 2014, I would have been alarmed by all the pain that stained every word, and my instinct would have been to insist on professional help.
Or to cheer him up.
Why Can Positivity Be Toxic?
Charles didn’t want cheering up or help, at least not the traditional kind. A tortured creative soul, he was never able to follow a path he didn’t carve himself.
I do think he wanted to talk, and he wanted me to know.
Most of all, he wanted to be heard.
I now believe that video he posted was his litmus test to see how I’d react. Sadly, I didn’t pass the test. And I was never aware of my son’s thoughts of suicide until after his shocking death.
Many times, when people confess their pain, they get pat responses about how they can “cheer up” – as if their despair is singularly a matter of having the wrong attitude. No wonder many people hesitate to share their suicidal thoughts with others.
Our first instinct, whether it’s with our children, relatives, friends, or co-workers is to try to push our loved one out of their distress and into the light with rah-rah expressions and solutions. This is called toxic positivity.
What is Toxic Positivity?
Toxic positivity is the belief that people should maintain a positive mindset no matter how dire or difficult a situation. Happiness – or at least hope – is the only acceptable emotion. It’s as though we’re asking people to mask their struggles so the people around them don’t have to feel uncomfortable.
We might say things like…
- “It will get better.”
- “Look for the silver lining.”
- “You have so much to live for!”
- “Focus on the positive.”
- “Don’t cry. Just be strong.”
- “Be grateful for all you have.”
- “Think happy thoughts!”
- “If you want to be happy, try cutting out sugar. It did wonders for me!”
- “You’d be less depressed if you exercised more. You should try it.”
- “You should __________.” (Any phrase that starts this way is usually the wrong thing to say)
These well-intentioned phrases often come from a place of fear and discomfort. But instead of lifting someone up, they shut the conversation down, invalidating the feelings that person has so bravely shared.
Pain Doesn’t Disappear When Ignored
Instead of rushing to “fix” someone, we must meet them where they are—whether that’s in sadness, despair, or thoughts of dying by suicide. Listening without judgment and sitting with someone in their pain is one of the greatest gifts we can give.
Stacey Freedenthal refers to this as “brave listening” in her book Loving Someone with Suicidal Thoughts:
Brave listening is resisting the temptation to change the subject, give advice, lecture, offer reassurance, or convince the person to think or feel differently. It’s focusing on the person’s needs, not on your own wish to feel less helpless, worried, and stressed as you listen.
Along the same lines, a young woman who has struggled with suicidal thoughts shared this with me:
“I just truly wish that someone could just sit with me in those moments, when I utter those exhausting words, ‘I’m struggling, I want to die.’ Not talk me out of it, not give platitudes, not give advice, not tell me how good life can be… just sit with me, in that space. Just hold on to me while I work through it.”
Her words are a powerful reminder. People don’t need us to fill the silence with solutions or optimism.
They need our presence. They need time to process. They need to feel heard.
The Power of Listening
You might worry that listening to someone in pain will drag you down, or that you won’t know what to say. Never underestimate the power of sitting with someone in their pain or tragedy without trying to sugarcoat or fix.
I once led a suicide prevention training at North Carolina State University. Afterward, a faculty member said, “Thanks to your training, I was able to ask a student about suicide today. While I was nervous, it felt strangely empowering.”
Empathy and connection are empowering—for both the giver and the receiver. When you offer someone the space to share their darkest thoughts, without judgment, interruption, or rah-rah phrases, you create room for hope, healing, growth, resilience, and life.
Listen More, Lecture Less
It might feel counterintuitive to listen without offering solutions or encouragement, but adopting this approach can deepen your relationships. It allows the person to be heard and discover their own solutions. And it builds trust, helping your loved ones feel safe turning to you for support.
I wish I had offered my son Charles the gift of silence that day when I commented on his rap video, instead of defaulting to my “mom-fixer” mode. I could have asked him—genuinely and with curiosity—about the feelings that inspired his song. Then, I could have listened, really listened, giving him space to process and respond in his own time.
It was a missed opportunity to strengthen our bond, to let him feel seen and heard. More importantly, it might have opened the door for him to confide in me later.
I no longer blame myself for doing what so many parents instinctively do. By sharing my story, I hope to highlight the power of simply being present with someone in their pain—without trying to fix it or make the person happy or get the person to think positively.
—————-
If you are talking to your kids, this 44 second video offers an example of what to resist saying: Listen to Your Kids: Ditch the Toxic Positivity!
© 2025 AnneMoss Rogers. All Rights Reserved. Written for Speaking of Suicide.
In the face of real, aching sorrow, the loudest words are often the ones left unsaid—because sometimes what hurts isn’t the silence itself, but the absence of someone simply choosing to stay and listen.
Donald,
Beautifully put! Thanks for sharing your poetic words here.
Ms Rogers, first I’m sorry for your loss (sounds so damn trite)
I’ve found over the years that your response to Charles is something I would have expected from a man. As generality, women seem to tend to listen and validate where a man tries to ‘fix the problem’ and that doesn’t always work.
Thanks for writing this, I guide others to Stacey’s site since her writing and you guest authors are so needed.
Thank you, it was something I needed to hear. I promise to listen and try not to fix the problem. It is hard and doesn’t feel natural, but I understand why it is the right thing to do now.
I totally get what you are saying. I wanted to share all my learned wisdom, too. And I noticed my kids were not doing any of it, and worse, they were digging their heels in and doing the opposite. Thank you for commenting. Because I think many of us (me, included) default to offering the “bright side.” So it does feel counterintuitive to change that.
Thank you
Very powerful and thought provoking approach
I will do my all to listen!!!
Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to comment, Tomary.
Always great to get your perspective on things, and I couldn’t agree more.
We don’t always respond to be critical, we do it because we are scared and uncertain.
I was likely the same with Maddie. It was a hard lesson to learn. 💜
It was also hard for me, too. Thank you for your validation, Chris. So much. And I also appreciate your commenting.