Loss Adjustment

by Linda Collins

This is the Australasian edition of Loss Adjustment, published by Awa Press of Wellington. Pre-orders are now open.

Genres: Nonfiction, Memoir, Mental Health, Biography, Grief, Health, Psychology

302 pages, Paperback

First published September 28, 2019

About the author

Linda Collins has a new book out (April, 2021), a poetry collection called Sign Language for the Death of Reason, edited by Lambda shortlister Tania De Rozario. It is published by Math Paper Press who sell it through their online bookstore @booksactually. In New Zealand, the distributor is bayhillbooks.co.nz.
Linda is doing an MA in Creative Writing at the University of East Anglia. She already has one MA in Creative Writing, during which she wrote her best-selling memoir, Loss Adjustment. That MA was with the International Institute of Modern Letters (IIML) at Victoria University, New Zealand, 2017. Her creative non-fiction, essays, fiction and poetry have appeared in Turbine, Swamp Living, The Fib Review, The Cordite Poetry Review, Oyster River Pages, Literary Mama, Fan the Flames (UEA Eggbox zine), and The Freerange Journal. She was shortlisted for the Hachette Australia Trans-Tasman mentorship, longlisted for a NZ flash fiction award and received an Honourable Mention in a Glimmer Train contest. Loss Adjustment was written three years after her daughter had died, and is a work of creative non-fiction. In fiction, she has short stories in A View of Stars: Stories of Love (Marshall-Cavdendish) and Call and Response 2 (Math Paper Press).

Reviews

[Diana · Rating 4 out of 5]

In Loss Adjustment, Linda Collins writes of her journey into that unimaginable land of loss & grieving she enters after her daughter's death to suicide. The book is meditative, heavy, heartbreaking, but equally full of tenderness, undeniable love, & a clarity that shines even through the miasma of grief. Linda writes of her daughter's death & the difficult process of grieving alongside commentaries on Singaporean society, its cultural practices, as well as explicating certain psychological understandings of mental illness. Victoria, too, was clearly a sensitive soul who held intense clarity. She understood herself, her demons, & the way the world around her was unfolding. It is a clarity we are momentarily privy to through the entries from Victoria's journal that the book is interspersed with.

Linda Collins wrote at some point that she wanted to be a "Bad Mourner," one who is allowed to fully express her anger & hurt, instead of being the more sympathetic image of vulnerability & sadness. The anger is palpable in the book, & I shared her anger deeply. What a horrendous shame it is that the first thing a school counsellor says upon meeting grieving parents is to absolve herself of blame; that a school is so invested in their students' achievements that they reduce them to academic robots & forget the emotional intensity of those youthful years; that they fail to help assist someone with known learning difficulties. What a deep shame it is that this was an environment where classism could so proudly unfurl itself to a point where a woman feels nothing in telling Linda that as the wife of a CEO she doesn't want to mix with someone who takes the bus.

These unsavoury details make it a difficult read, but they're necessary to mention. People do not commit suicide for internal reasons alone. In Singapore, where the leading cause of death amongst millennials is suicide, where we have one of the highest rates of elderly suicides in the world, a book like Loss Adjustment is necessary reading. One of the best things we can do is to listen to those who have suffered in the most painful ways because the society they exist in is simply unlivable for them. Linda & Victoria reveals much of what makes our current society so broken, painful, & insensitive to those who are hurting.

Most touching for me was Linda's accounts of moments when she hears Victoria's voice to turn her towards a specific place or picture, & when she follows that voice she coincidentally finds something of Victoria's that gives her some form of comfort or understanding. It’s at these moments when the question of the spiritual is breached; when the land of loss & grief inducts you into another kind of world, one where another kind of communication & meaning-making is possible.

As I read through the book, it was clear that even after Victoria's death, she continues to suffuse the world of her family & friends with her love. Her death could not & did not kill the care & sensitivity she had provided to her parents & her friends, especially in the case of Mary. They carry it with them. Her entries which articulate so clearly & achingly of the difficulties she was facing are quoted in journals, books, & articles that confront the problem of suicide. In this way, she continues to live.

[Arin Fong · Rating 4 out of 5]

There were many times where I had to put down this book—mostly on peak-hour train rides or alone in my bed—because there were tears in my eyes. Such is Linda Collins’s raw and difficult portrayal of living with the grief of losing her daughter. There is no disingenuous message of false hope, no echoing of the clichéd “time heals all” narrative, no concealment of the oftentimes ugly impulse to grieve loudly, selfishly, and to chastise those who have wronged her and her late daughter. "Loss Adjustment" is an important lens with which to view many pressing issues in our society—the obsession with grades and getting ahead; the narrow one-track narrative of success in Singapore schools (international schools are not exempt from this either); the insidious nature of large, corporate educational institutions that prioritise class status and reputation over the welfare of students; the need for greater care and awareness of mental health issues, especially conditions like social anxiety that are often mistaken for “shyness”; the importance of destigmatising grief as a shameful process or an experience of abnormality to be treated. But what makes this book truly moving are the interwoven journal entries from Collins’s late daughter herself, Victoria McLeod. Her writing is demonstrative of her poetic finesse, emotional intelligence, and intense loneliness that is both remarkable and heartbreaking. If there’s anything this book teaches us, it is that the process of grief is not linear, that grief evolves and manifests in different ways in the aftermath of loss, that not everything can make sense, that it is perfectly human to grieve loudly, without shame. And this is an important lesson in a world that tends to sweep grief—or anything that is not “normal”—under a rug.

Note: potential trigger warnings for content on suicide, self-harm, and eating disorders.

[Rachael · Rating 4 out of 5]

(Potential trigger warnings for suicide, depression)

“I have had nothing bad happen to me except my own doing. I have let this cowardice envelop me, and I can’t shake it off. I will commit the worst thing you can ever do to someone who loves you: killing yourself. The scary thing is, I’m okay with that.”

As someone who has struggled with depression and suicidal thoughts, Loss Adjustments was a book that greatly pulled on my heartstrings and I found myself being unable to carry on reading at times (and even silently crying to myself in the office) when I first read it. I can't imagine how hard it must have been for Linda to recount these memories, and I really admire her strength and bravery in sharing her story and remembering Victoria through this book . It is a difficult read, but an honest and beautifully written memoir that I would recommend all to check out.

P.s Remember to give your loved ones a big hug, or check up on friends you haven't spoken to in awhile 💛 You never know what someone might be struggling with alone, and it's so important to show love to them when you still can.

[Kexin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Where do I start with this book? This is a book that I wish had been out when I was also going through the turmoil of losing someone close to me to suicide. Collins pulls no punches in this account of her daughter's death, and all the torrential slush of mourning and grief that follows when someone leaves in such an absurd way is rendered in a heart-bursting, plaintive manner. Rarely have I seen an account that communicates so well the existential and emotional loneliness afterwards, the sheer brokenness you are left in by the thought that you failed to help your loved one that cannot be naively "solved". I have devoured essays and books on suicide in an effort to make sense of it all, but Linda Collins's book stands out because she not only grapples with the intransigent implications and aftermath of suicide, but also takes to task the structural issues and institutions that are linked to suicide: the pressure-cooker environment in Singapore, the incessant materialistic quest for wealth that excludes many, the neglect and dismissal of youths' mental health problems. Collins does not shy away from posing hard-hitting questions about the need to change these wider systems that crush young people to fine dust, and why and how we have to do better by the people around us. At the heart of it is a simple message, saddening perhaps in our occasional forgettance of it: we need to take care of each other. Loss Adjustment adroitly articulates what we often feel pressured to hide and leave unsaid about grief. A book that gives an affecting picture of how fragile life can be, and makes an important contribution to normalising difficult conversations about suicide and mental health.

[Sharah Ann · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book touched me in ways difficult to articulate, but I shall try. I grew up around Victoria who was just one year older than me; we lived in the same sprawling condominium but never knew each other personally, although I often saw her riding her bike and we once attended contemporary dance classes together. I remember her as tall, slender, timid, and seemingly meek, yet it is undoubtedly clear that her fertile and talented mind was likely brimming with insights and thoughts. I think of her remarkably often, in various emotional states. Having suffered acutely from mental health difficulties myself, I resonate so strongly with some of what she felt, and with what she wrote. I think of our similarities – I am in my final year studying English Literature, and ‘find’ myself in writing too. I often think about how I express myself better through the written word than through speech, and how writing has offered me solace when I have felt most vulnerable and 'weak'. I think of how her story could have been my own, and how it is the story of so many others. I contemplate how dearly I wish she had lived, to gain perspective, to know that time helps and that things do pass, to realise fully that pendulums swing both ways, and that suffering, whilst excruciating, isn't forever... That there is hope for every one of us, and happiness to be found in all that we are capable of, which is a lot, no matter what the world might say. As I look into a starry sky, I remember Victoria, and am moved to honour her existence and her living in my very own.

[Skye · Rating 4 out of 5]

When a child dies from suicide,
who do you blame?
Do you blame the friend who knew about her tendencies?
The school?
The bullies?
The stressful academic system?
The parents?
Or yourself?

The blame game is a cycle of guilt.

Mother Linda Collins pieces together clues to paint a clearer picture of what her daughter, Victoria, was going through before she took her own life at the age of 17.

What was she really thinking? What was she feeling? What was life at school really like for her?

Linda pores over material from Victoria’s diary, interviews her classmates, recounts conversations and revisit memories of Victoria’s childhood to make sense of this tragedy.

Suicide is always a touchy subject, a taboo in many cultures. Curiosity and shame often surround the topic. Families of the bereaved usually do not speak out much about their loss. Though it must have been difficult to do so, Linda Collins manages to share her story of grief and the process of getting to know why her daughter did what she did.

I’m grateful for her account. I believe that we all benefit from reading her story - even if we become slightly more aware of what our loved ones could be going through, and help someone in our midst. I hope people who are struggling can also know that they can be helped, if they allow it. I hope they know that they are loved.

It’s a book of a deep, sad loss, but also a book about love. I urge you to read it.

[Jill · Rating 3 out of 5]

In Loss Adjustment, Linda Collins recounts her daughter Victoria’s suicide and her attempt to process and make sense of Victoria’s death. It begins on the morning of Victoria’s suicide, when Collins wakes up to prepare breakfast for Victoria, just like on any other weekday. But when Collins heads into Victoria’s bedroom to rouse her, Victoria isn’t there.

The first 70 pages of Loss Adjustment, where Collins details the blur of activity and her emotions following the discovery of Victoria’s body – speaking to the police, going to the morgue, needing to tell people what happened, Victoria’s wake, the funeral – are gut wrenching and riveting. I was glad I was reading the book at home and not outside; tears were pouring down my face. It was late at night and at one point, my child roused and I went into their room. And as I sat there in the dark, making soft shushing noises, the tears continued to course down my face.

The next 230 pages, where Collins tries to piece together and come to terms with why Victoria committed suicide, were a more mixed experience for me. Collins narrates her efforts to reach out to Victoria’s friends and school, transcribes excerpts from Victoria’s journals, describes her thoughts and emotions as she realizes how little she knew and understood of Victoria’s inner life.

Some parts were thought provoking. Collins reminds us that it’s not easy for parents to have insight into our children’s inner lives unless we pay attention. Victoria started cutting herself when she turned 14, upset that her best friend Sivi, from her condo, moved to Australia, that her group of friends at school couldn’t substitute for Sivi, that she felt like a fish out of water at her international school. Victoria developed social anxiety so crippling that she couldn’t speak up in class even if she wanted to. But her parents never realized any of this. (And the school never flagged this to them, even though Victoria touched on some of these issues with the school counselor.) They never imagined that their beautiful, kind, funny, talented (Victoria was a talented writer) daughter might have any cause for social anxiety or depression.

A counselor Collins sees tells her that as a parent, “you see what you want to see” – that your child is flourishing and moving ahead in life. Collins starts volunteering with a children’s home once a week and her interactions with the kids make her realize that Victoria was comparatively less confident and adept in reading social situations as a participant, and required more handholding to do her homework. But Collins did not see this in Victoria at the time because she did not “interact much with other children in terms of observing them or furthermore, have any knowledge of what was considered appropriate behavior at various stages of development.” Collins realizes in retrospect that two weeks before she took her life, Victoria became more withdrawn, preferring to lie in bed and listen to music. But at the time, wasn’t it natural to assume that this was just typical teenage behavior?

Collins cautions parents that we sometimes get so caught up in settling the tasks of parenting, that we neglect what’s going on inside our kids. About two weeks before Victoria’s death, Victoria spoke about the various events in her life over the years. But Collins was “in a flurry of household chores and worried about getting Vic ready for the start of the new school term” when in retrospect, she wished she had asked Vic why she was talking about these issues and what was going on in her mind. Collins reflects that she was in “the mother mode that [she] thought society expected [her] to be in…always looking to the future, wondering if Vic had done her homework, reminding [her]self to take the clothes out of the drier and fold them, working out what to have for dinner.” Instead, she wishes she had taken a moment to stand back to take a proper look at Victoria.

Yet, I struggled with much of the 230 pages. (To be honest, it feels wrong to critique someone’s attempt to process the death of their only child.) In the past couple of years, I’ve read Paul Kalanithi’s When Breath Becomes Air, Nina Riggs’s The Bright Hour, and Julie Yip-William’s The Unwinding of the Miracle. All three deal with their respective authors’ efforts to come to terms with their mortality, after being diagnosed with cancer. Not quite the same issue that Loss Adjustment deals with, but similarly emotional, raw and heartfelt. But where Kalanithi, Riggs and Yip-Williams’s books were achingly beautiful reads, Loss Adjustment fell short for me.

I’m not quite sure what it was. Perhaps Kalanithi, Riggs and Yip-Williams were writing before their death and ultimately focussed on the uplifting – what they were living for in what remaining time they had. Collins, on the other hand, is left to pick up the pieces of an existence where she feels that there is little left to live for. And her response is to imbue (somewhat uncomfortably for me) meaning and significance in everything she sees. A kingfisher sighting, a hat in a tree, a photocopied image of Snow White in Victoria’s drawer – all these are taken signs of Victoria’s continued presence. Memories of incidents that took place before Victoria died take on darker overtones – an infestation of termites in the apartment, the disappearance of flight MH370, the death of their Taoist neighbor. Perhaps it was the prose. Perhaps it was a combination of the two – the same recollections, the same musings rendered more skillfully would have made for a better read.

Read this for a frank discussion of an important topic that doesn’t get as much airing as it should.

[Jolene Lum · Rating 5 out of 5]

Linda Collins’ new work is a double imperative around aftermath. Loss adjustment, in insurance lingo is an expense, borne to the insurer after a claim has been filed and require processing and settling. Often, the insurers incur these costs by trying to prove and justify loss and damage— to understand why things have gone wrong. Collins’ experiences in Loss Adjustment include both of these activities— to have lost and to attempt personal adjustments through the diligence of a questioning search.

Suicide, however, is unlike any other natural disaster, where debris can be pieced together for a material whole to emerge. The process is as frustrating as it has to be. Victoria, Collins’ late daughter, leaves behind clues to a psyche that only open up more doors to the unknowable world that Collins may only begin to approach. What more do we do when we find out that a sudden death was planned? Journeying to discover an intangible world of frustration, despair, and loneliness leads Collins onto a new chapter in her life of coming to understand how strands of her daughter’s life— seemingly under control on the surface— caused an inner life of far greater strife.

My initial reading of the text proved to be tinged with frustration and a slight furrowing of my brows— Collins’ assumptions articulated in the book came into direct tension with my own experience of psychiatric and mental health conditions not too long ago, and identical to Victoria in age. Between many turns of the pages where Collins seemed trapped in her own mind about why things came to be, there was large amounts of discomfort between my own experiences that she seemed to misunderstand parts of, and that of relating to another human being who has just been bereaved. This is where Collins’ mastery of her own account shines, where I realised that I could not understand or compare my own experience to Victoria’s, nor to Collins’. In her chapters that weave between hyper self-awareness and a hopeful connection to the otherworldly, the reader is reminded that they do not have any more information that she does— and that none of us could read any more or less than she has into what Victoria has left behind in the aftermath.

Collins’ voice is one that is hyper human— and does not shy away from articulating modes of thinking that do not fit into a linear narrative of loss or understanding. She manages to tread the lines to uncover parts of the story that become valuable for a personal story of loss to be read from every perspective, child and parent alike— a call for gentler ways of communication, and for a consideration of relationships that are full of contradictions. Every ‘should I have known’ is complemented with the knowing tension that pushing another person to explain themselves is not always helpful, and that every explanation may not be the only one. In the midst of Collins’ questioning, her reflections lead us to a more constructive conversation about despair, loss, what we must do for the living, and to continue living.

[Wyncy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Many thanks to Ethos Books for sending me an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

“We hear the sound of the motorbike. We rush out, hoping for news. It is Mohan, the condominium’s security guard. The burly Indian with a carefully tended moustache and devotion to his job has known Vic since she was a little girl. This familiar, kindly man in his blue uniform and polished black shoes, is sobbing.”

This book’s title was unsettling to me right from the start. Isn’t “adjustment” too cold, too transactional a word for the loss of one’s own child – and by suicide, no less? I later learnt that Loss Adjustment, in insurance parlance, is the process whereby the insurer assesses the amount of compensation to be paid for a client’s loss. It was only nearing the end did I finally understand the significance behind the author, Linda Collins’, choice of words.

Interwoven into the narrative were little glimpses into the mind of the late Victoria, via dairy entries that were kept in the teenager’s personal laptop. She was a beautiful writer. It’s heartbreaking to read her words now—words that were never meant to see the light of day, but did, a little too late. I can’t imagine Collins’ painful dilemma in having to decide whether or not to release them publicly. This was her little girl’s cry for help.

Midway, I got more and more uncomfortable reading this book. Was it really alright for a stranger like me to be given privy to a mother’s naked grief? Loss Adjustment is an emotional exposé that delves deep into a mourning parent’s psyche—the unanswerable questions, the bitter darkness, the ugly blame-games, the drowning anguish, the neverending what-ifs.

Who could write a memoir like this? A grieving mother—one who is still searching for answers in her own Loss Adjustment.

And if you could, would you? My deepest respect to Collins for her courage in penning this memoir. I share in her hope that this book would, in its own little ways, help break the social stigma surrounding mental health to make room for honest conversations in Singapore.

[Gemma F. · Rating 5 out of 5]

Full review now on my blog: https://wp.me/p6917X-1eL

Aug 26, 2019
Thank you Ethos Books for sending me an Advanced Reader's Copy of Loss Adjustment in exchange for an honest review.

This was such a beautiful, emotional and heartbreaking read and I felt that the author, Linda was brave and strong in writing this book.

It was hard for me to read Loss Adjustment as it also reminded me my personal experience when a friend of mine died by suicide in 2013.

Author Linda Collins's take in her memoir, Loss Adjustment is a story about her journey after to her late daughter, Victoria McLeod passed away due to suicide in 2014. It highlights Linda's heart-wrenching inner turmoil after her daughter's death and how she managed to go through life after such a devastating incident. Loss Adjustment also covers sensitive topics such as depression, self-harm and the journey of loss.

I found myself crying after the first few pages and had to take some time to continue reading Linda's account on what had happened and her journey to finding closure and her research into mental health as well as extracts from Victoria's journal that she found seven months after Victoria had passed.

A moving memoir that has changed the way I see the world as a whole.

[Christine Tan · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'd been bracing myself for this, thinking it'd be a heavy, difficult read given the subject, but there is a generosity, intelligence and persistence in the writing that draws one in. Linda turns the details of Victoria's death over and over, seeking patterns, comfort, meaning, and the element of mystery that pervaded a systematic presentation of rich detail was very compelling (was particularly struck by observations on Singaporean funeral rituals/rallying of community through a New Zealander's perspective).

The sequences and extracts of Victoria's journals (her writing is precocious) are tightly curated with an openness of mind and journalistic clarity that retraces all the clues, that while in numbing grief still grapples with and tries to make sense of the complex web of spiritual, cultural, social circumstances, never apportioning blame, never speaking out in absolutes, but holding everything in clear view. And an openness of heart gently reaches out those who had known Victoria, and sits to listen to their story as well. It is this movement, this always shifting - I don't think 'lightness' might be the right word, but it there is a sense of that - that invites the reader to follow closely, to feel its weight, not to look or file this away as just another person's experience.

It is difficult to comment on a work which involves real life and loss, which will always go beyond/be messier/more complex than whatever narrative a reader/writer would make of it. I would just like to note the acute sensitivity to beauty, nature and language that Linda and Victoria share, and where they share literature, places, homes, little preferences and moments; where Linda dissects the journal entries in all their poetry and despair; how intuitively she can feel her daughter's 'presence' in a place, or not - these offer a little love, light and hope that shine where there is so much that is irreconcilable and painful - these details stick in my mind when I think of this remarkably brave, lucid work.

On a personal note this is the first book I've finished in a long while and I feel like I have been recharged with the energy to delve deep into words and ideas again - something about how this was written.

[Julie Vellacott · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was completely immersed in this tightly-written story of life and loss. It’s disturbing and distressing in its intensity; at times I didn’t want to continue reading but couldn’t put it aside. Linda’s telling of Victoria’s story depicts an ordinary loving family with normal plans and dreams. An ordinary family torn apart by suicide. The struggle to cope with loss, guilt and unthinkable sadness is laid out on the page for readers to share. As we share this journey of striving towards a level of acceptance and hopefully, a measure of peace, we learn about ourselves and gain more understanding of the torments of others.
Reading examples of Victoria’s honest and thoughtful writing is a privilege and I felt great sorrow at the loss of this talent to the world. I also felt relief that some small measures of comfort for her mother, Linda, came from surprising sources. Support doesn’t always originate where it is expected and I was shocked at the level of blatant callousness shown by the people and institutions usually looked to for care and guidance.
‘Loss Adjustment’ is also a book about love and the effort required to focus on the memory of love. And to honour the one who departed so suddenly; to tell her story to the world that it may achieve a greater level of compassion and tolerance.

[Faterider · Rating 5 out of 5]

Linda Collins lost her 17-year-old daughter, Victoria, to suicide. Ethos Books
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How do I even respond to a book as raw as this?
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But Linda Collins doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shun away from exposing her innermost thoughts. And neither shall I. The MBTI personality profiling is my latest obsession, so I shall detail how her book impacted this classic ENFP campaigner.
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My inquisitive mind loved how the book took me on a journey in so many wonderfully scattered directions. The cultural differences between Westerns and us when dealing with death. The parallels she made between her loss of Victoria and the loss of her home to the Christchurch earthquake. The methodical way in which she explored all likely explanations for Victoria’s act.
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As a Feeler, I felt so proud that we Singaporeans showed up and organised things in our typical no-nonsense way in her time of need. We may not be as outwardly warm as the Taiwanese or as self-sacrificially considerate as the Japanese, but beneath our efficiency-obsessed minds lie decent human beings.
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I ached for the courage it must have taken her to share Victoria’s journals. People might just twist Victoria’s words into something hurtful but Linda generously bares all so that we see Victoria for who she is. A brilliant writer plagued with anxiety issues. A lucid, lyrical mind who fought to prevent the darkness from engulfing her but failed.
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The teacher in me is grateful with the specific suggestions Linda included in her memoir. In detailing the injustice she and her husband suffered at the hands of Victoria’s school, I am made wiser. Ask a grieving parent how s/he’s coping with loss. Get a safety plan concretised for students who exhibit suicidal thoughts. Be mindful of how students with processing issues are struggling more than their peers.
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The hyperactive kid in me couldn’t wait to spring into some form of action after reading it. Called up an ex-student whom I think is so damaged that his trauma issues that I fear for his future. Writing this review now. Will share it with a friend who switched to be a career counsellor because she has friends suffering from depression.
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Above all, I just need to say to Linda: I’m sorry.

[Jezreel Deborah · Rating 4 out of 5]

First chapter in and I wondered: how does one muster such a bold vulnerability? What could’ve driven her to expose the ugly, the messy, the tangled, and all the pain?

With grief in its bare nakedness, how does a mother find that strength to give voice to her daughter’s suicide, with such depth and weight?

Simply put, this book is about suicide—what comes before it and what is left in the aftermath. And the whys, mostly revealed through unravelling Victoria’s raw diary entries written before her death.

I emerged from Loss Adjustment wanting so much more for the people around me. It was quite a journey through this memoir, as it constantly drove me to question how we (family, friends, schools, teachers, authorities, systems, etc) can try to prevent more of these absurdities. Also, is it possible to rid the unrealistic expectations this generation compares themselves against? And is anyone around me currently facing the same giants Victoria faced?

But ultimately, I believe it boils down to this: to love more and be truly present for whoever, whenever. And as corny as it is, just to really shine in whatever capacity we have. I believe that God places everyone in a specific time and place for a purpose; sometimes we may just need a nudge or a gentle word to push us to where we are called to be.

Thank you Linda for going far and way beyond what anybody could think of. Victoria and your every word has definitely, and will definitely continue to inspire and empathize with many. So brave, so grateful.

P.S. And if all these doesn’t make this a good book worth picking up, I don’t know what does :’)

[Lester Tan · Rating 2 out of 5]

I’m sorry, Linda and Malcom, for what you both had to go through. I’m sorry, Victoria for what Singapore - its culture and people - had in a way put you through.

[Naaytaashreads · Rating 5 out of 5]

“I would not mind going mad. It would absolve me of any need to go on coping, which is a particular kind of living hell. The simplicity of letting go, of shuffling about in a Valium- induced haze, is alluring. I lack the kind of ruthless ability that Victoria had to bring about a complete physical destruction of the entire human package. It is my fate to keep waking and find myself alive.”

I am trying to find words on how do I write this review. I know what I am feeling but I just can’t put it into words.

Firstly, big respect and adoration to Linda who is so brave and have so much courage to write something so personal and raw to the world.
I however am relief that she is choosing to share Victoria’s story, as she said not to overcome her grief or anything but for she thinks it will be Victoria’s dream to let her message and story be known and it can hopefully help someone. God bless her soul, truly.

Getting into the book, I know what I was getting into, the topics that is going to be discussed. However, I was not expecting Linda to be really honest and raw without any filter.

She does not only discuss suicide, there are other topics; bullying, mental health, social anxiety, ADHD, OCD, insecurities.

I don’t want to call them a norm that people are dealing with but it is what it is. Those things, are seen as health issues however it is not discussed enough, people are not knowledgeable on it and there are awareness on them however I think people don’t take the seriousness of it.

From Loss Adjustments; one shocking thing from learning of Linda’s story was how Victoria’s suicide was received from the school. I was so shocked at the stories of what the school says, the counsellors and how it was dealt with.

As a Singaporean myself, suicide especially in Asia is seen as taboo, sinful and look down upon. When one deals with it or receive the news from it, people tend to avoid them, brush it off or just make the problem out of their list quickly.

How Linda explains everything just got me shock and wishes we could do more. Linda definitely in the book told us how she just wish there was a way for her to help find a change on how the schools and counsellors to deal with these things for future students.

The letters, journals and notes Linda found was heartbreaking and at the same time I feel like it gives a sense of answers to her questions. I may not be a parent, but I could only imagine how heartbreaking Linda would have felt knowing that she feels like she thought she knew her daughter but those journals are just questioning her parenting.
There is no right or wrong when it comes to being parents. Sending hugs and love to parents, single mother or single father etc to know that its okay, don’t be too hard on yourself.

From Victoria’s journal, we are told on the things that are making her sad. I don’t think there is a definite answer to why these suicide happens, but there are some things that could trigger them. Victoria’s insecurity, her getting bullied, school expectations, life goals etc.

I realise now that I think about it, I could relate to them when I think back during my secondary school days. It just shows how us teenagers we face so much during those age that we felt hopeless. Those are the age where we try to fit in, find our voice, find friends and just to be perfect. I feel like looking back now, I wish there was a guidance or someone or something to tell me it’s okay, assure me things, help me with friends or bullying.

Other things I realise is how easy we brush off things in our life us humans. We say things sometimes without thinking, we do things without thinking. Yes we are all humans, we make mistakes but I think if we just slow down and think before we say things or do things. Somebody could be having a rough time and we don’t know it, we won’t realise our words could hurt them.

This book was such an eye opener. I always love reading on taboo subject because I would want to relate, know that book could help someone I know, make me be aware of it. But this book really opened my eyes with the rawness of the story.

I do hope Victoria’s story is spread and being aware not to be known as her story of why she did what she did but a story of hope that could give to someone. This book was her voice that she did not managed to voice out.

“We want to feel the pain of her loss, because at least it is something of her to feel. However, the result is that we don’t sleep. The nearest thing to sleep that I experience is blacking out, from which I emerge instantly awake, twitchy and unrefreshed. And always, I wake with the knowledge that she is dead. There are no vestiges of dreams where she is alive. I don’t seem to dream at all.”

[Renuka Satianathan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautifully written and so gut wrenching in parts. I cannot fathom the courage it took to delve into Victoria's diaries, to process that along with the author's own grief and then to share it so honestly. The observations on how different cultures deal with death, how educational institutions and bureaucracy can be kinder and the painful relations with family made it such a rich memoir. It hit so hard in so many ways but I cannot recommend it enough.

[sha · Rating 5 out of 5]

this book both echoed and shed light on many topics that i have been thinking about for the past few years. it is so important to share, yet intimate and personal; it is difficult. read it.

[C · Rating 5 out of 5]

raw, genuine, brave

[Sorfina Ibrahim · Rating 4 out of 5]

Loss Adjustment - a moving memoir of a mother’s recount of her 17 year old daughter’s suicide - is delicate, raw and necessary. I must admit, it was challenging to read the memoir when I first realised that I too was a 17 year old girl back in 2014 preparing for my national exams, so I had to put the book down and watch a few Lex and Cinnabon cat videos before returning to the book. But with the memoir’s use of interwoven poems and diary entries written by Victoria McLeod and a narration that is uncomplicated and natural, Loss Adjustment becomes accessible in its message on conveying the depth of complexity surrounding the issue of mental health. Anecdotes and interviews with friends and family of Victoria adds to the richness of Collins’ reflection and ultimately serves to reinforce the multifaceted nature of an emotional or mental distress. The book unveils intimate feelings of devastation and frustration towards students, parents and the education system at large - and as a reader, I felt compelled to find an evil to blame - but subsequently privileges unconditional love and faith as a means to adjust to one's loss. If you are interested in reading more about mental health and would like to gain a better understanding on the topic, I recommend this honest, poignant and important memoir that will guarantee to tug and touch the hearts of its readers.

[Pamela · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is a page turner! Linda shared bravely about all she could with the world about her daughter in such a real and coherent manner. It is about endless maternal love and the lasting power of words which transcends earthly life and death. Suicide is a taboo subject and this book provides perspectives and identification to those who have/are contemplating it. Thank you for being so open about your journey :)

[Carman Chew · Rating 2 out of 5]

I can see why people might like this book. For people who've lost others to suicide or to any other calamity, this can be a comforting recount and an almost cathartic way of putting those feelings into words. But for a suicide survivor, it all feels a bit like self-flagellating - to share words from someone's diary, to claim someone's death with such a singular perspective, it all feels just a little self-indulgent. I wonder if this is how Vic would've wanted to be remembered at all.

[Shalani Devi · Rating 4 out of 5]

(trigger warnings for suicide, self-harm, depression and mental health)

Grief - the word itself brings a certain kind of heaviness that is almost bordering on being suffocating. How do you even begin to experience such an emotion, much less convey it to someone else? It’s something that affects us differently - whether we are the ones grieving or are merely spectators to someone else’s grief - and is as intimate and vulnerable a moment as the pain it elicits.

In Loss Adjustment, Linda Collins recounts the life of her daughter, Victoria Mcleod, starting from her growing up years up till the moment she decides to take her own life, and in the process, tries to make sense of her own grief and suffering. It is part memoir, part journal entry as Collins interweaves paragraphs of her own life with excerpts found in Victoria’s personal diary and her laptop.

But all of this information can be gathered from the back cover of the book, and it only begins to scratch the surface of what Loss Adjustment has to offer.


“I had woken up euphoric in the aftermath of a long dream in which Victoria was spinning in the universe and saying, “I’m free, free! I’m free. And you’re free!"


The book opens with the day of Victoria’s suicide, beginning with a haunting dream Collins had of her daughter calling out to her, saying “she’s free”. There is no warning, no build up exposition to prepare us for what’s to come. Perhaps, this is Collins’s way of showing us the suddenness of grief, and how rarely it is kind enough to prepare us for its arrival. Even the chapter title, “Time to Wake Up”, is a subtle nod to this notion of grief rudely awakening us from our carefully constructed reality. From then on, the narrative picks up to follow the motions of Victoria’s death and the ensuing aftermath that follows of Collins and her husband, Malcolm McLeod, trying to pick up the pieces.

The chapter titles are aptly titled to not only reflect the passing of days and important moments of both the author’s and her daughter’s life, but to also offer us a peek into Collins’s present state of mind by showing us what she chooses to remember at any specific moment to fit into the bigger narrative of a mother trying to make sense of her daughter’s sudden death. For the most part, Collins maintains a certain sense of detachment one would expect from a non-fiction title, imparting just enough personality to claim agency on the narrative, a wry joke here and a passing social commentary there. But the moments where Collins allows herself to be vulnerable on the page, to allow the reader to see the extent of the confusion and hurt she feels over the loss of a loved one, are the moments that make this book stand out.


“I am overwhelmed by immense sadness and a longing for her non-existent future. My daughter Victoria—I want to shout her name to the universe over and over and over and in capital letters—VICTORIA VICTORIA VICTORIA VICOTORIA VICOTORIA VICOTORIA VICOTORIA VICOTORIA VICOTORIA SKYE PRINGLE MCLEOD.”



If it is merely understanding that you are after, then there is no need to expose your inner vulnerability when writing about pain and suffering. It takes a certain depth of maturity and bravery to make the conscious decision to lay yourself bare on the page for someone else’s judgement. But Collins does this, and uncannily so, without being suffocating or embellishing her pain with exaggerated pretence. She strikes the perfect balance between showing what’s real while still maintain a measure of control - and the end result is

While the overall pacing of the book was inconsistent, especially when it begins a little slower than expected at the beginning, the narrative really picks up slightly before the middle of the book when Victoria’s diary and journal excerpts are introduced. This brings the already heavy read to another level, as you get to see first-hand the emotional turmoil of a teenager who was a victim of bullying and her own destructive mind, juxtaposed with Collins’s guilt tinged commentary on how she should have done better to spot the signs of her daughter’s downward spiral.

Reading Victoria’s journal entries and getting an in-depth look into her personal thoughts and feelings, were arguably one of the more difficult sections to read in the book. You not only get to see the descend of a troubled mind into black pit of hopelessness, but you also get to see the physical manifestation of this in the way that Victoria begins to see herself and the value of her own life. It was so emotionally wrecking that there were moments where I caught myself saying “that’s not true”, or wishing something could have been done to prevent her from destroying herself further when she talked about not eating and engaging in self-harm. it was so immensely personal that I felt conflicted reading these excerpts as I felt I was intruding into someone else’s private thoughts and moments, but at the same time there was a desire within me to read on and know more about her. Victoria’s written thoughts were her own silent cry for help, and this anguish at not being able to ask for it was further exacerbated when Collins talks about the gaps within the school system, (which impeded the chances of Victoria ever getting adequate help) or her struggles with coming to terms with her sexuality (which is a rite of passage for any coming-of-age teenager but which she never had the opportunity to fully explore). Reading these entries was like watching someone step into deep waters and not being able to do anything but repeatedly shout at them not to do so from the safety of shore, before your voice grows tired and they eventually drown.

In a way, I could not have thought of a more perfect legacy for Victoria than this book. Her beautiful words are now released to the world, and her life has been made to be one not of struggle, but radical inspiration to thousands of other young people struggling with mental illness. While there have been strides made over recent years, there is definitely more that can be done to ensure more effective discussions about mental health, especially within more youths and young adults. While this book may have detailed one girl’s struggle with a mental affliction that ultimately led to her destruction, I have no doubt that Victoria’s story will continue to be a stark reminder to anyone suffering in silence that they are not alone, and in a way act as a symbol of hope that they will one day get the help they deserve. This book is Victoria’s hope for a better generation of youths, ones who uplift each other instead of tearing one another apart, and who collectively will work together towards a better future for themselves.


“And one thing that occurs to me is that Victoria has given me this gift of being able to write her story, and also mine and Malcolm’s. Grief can be a prison. In enabling me to write her story, and in taking the risk of her becoming a public persona, Victoria has opened a door not only for my grief journey to go out into the world to help others, but for the changed me to find a new identiy.”


I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a loved one (and I’m not going to sit here and pretend to know how that feels) but I want to thank Linda Collins for being brave enough to share your story, as well as your daughter’s, to the rest of the world. We rarely get to see books with such unadulterated honestly and kindness, but when we do, we know in our hearts that such a story is worth telling. Thank you for giving Victoria a voice, and for letting us get a glimpse of her sunshine.

[Kirat Kaur · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is every bit as devastating as you’d expect it to be, and this is a major trigger warning for suicide. Linda Collins writes about life after the suicide of her 17-year-old daughter, a situation no parent or carer wants to be in. The first few chapters were the hardest to read, when she describes the hours, days and weeks immediately following the event. But the latter part of the book hit me at the core more strongly. While this is in no small part a grief memoir and a mother’s attempt to make sense of events, Collins also gives her readers the gift of insight. She describes the cultural and cross-cultural takes on funerals, mourning, suicide and mental illness. She offers her experience of the shocking insensitivity of school administrators to the situation. She gives rare insight into the dynamics between Singaporeans and expats, as well as class differentials among the expat community itself. Perhaps most importantly, she discusses her own journey to understanding her daughter’s situation with brutal honesty, painstaking guilt, and unbelievable open-heartedness. I don’t think we’ve ever had a local book-length documentation of suicide before, and given how so many of us in Singapore have been touched by suicide one way or another, I’m so so grateful for this to be the first one.

[Rebecca · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hard book to read. I read about the first one to two chapters, then had to put it down for almost a week. Mother Linda Collins recounts her daughter Victoria's suicide, and her subsequent attempts to make sense of it. The reactions of others, especially the school, are shocking - the staff's defensiveness, ineptitude, left me so angry. A child's life was lost and they couldn't even try to help her family.

There are some interesting comparisons between Singapore and New Zealand culture, and a little delving into Linda and her husband Malcolm's families, where some of their family members had also died by suicide.

Throughout the book, we also learn that Victoria is queer and neurodivergent. She was diagnosed with ADHD but likely on the spectrum, struggled to feel like she belonged in the various social settings she was in, and was subject to our pressure cooker society and intense academic pressure. Victoria had apparently had suicidal ideation since 14, and started cutting around that age, was likely clinically depressed for just as long, but was able to hide this from almost everyone except her close friends - many of whom were also going through their own mental health struggles. I'm reminded of the Anxious Generation book and can only hope that we will figure out better ways to help our young people who fall through the cracks.

[Melanie Ang · Rating 5 out of 5]

I picked up this book after reading an excerpt of it in a local publication. Through Linda's writing, I felt everything from her outrage at the school counsellor's inexperience and incapability when dealing with Victoria's suicidal thoughts. I felt her love for her daughter and her need to seek the truth as well as adjust her life and mental state to live with this loss. I saw how delicate and mindful we have to be when communicating to others, how certain behaviors of theirs, which may seem put-off-ish and aloof to us may just be a manifestation of a mental condition of theirs. Regardless of Linda's intentions in writing this book, I'm glad I gained those insights and I think Victoria would be glad too.

[Nancy Chiok · Rating 4 out of 5]

A mother's way to grieve for the sudden loss of her only child.

She attempted to find out why, how, when, what, and, who.

It is not easy for the author as she has to replay the past over and over, to write the book.

Overall, a beautiful book, and I believe this resulted in the author to hopefully overcome her grief. No matter what, one cannot forget the loss of a loved one, but we need to have a closure and the author has done it beautifully. She showed me her strengths and her courage. As a mother myself, she taught me lessons that I need to care more and to learn what is necessary and important in our lives.

[Miz · Rating 3 out of 5]

I can't imagine the grief of these parents. It was a commendable exploration of grief and teenage suicide. I would have like more analysis in the second half of the book, but I can imagine it was raw .... Teenage suicide and teenage pressures really need to have more attention and contemporary review. The statistics are too high, and all too real.

[Jo · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a powerful read. As the story of loss unfolded, I was frequently moved to tears - this unadorned visceral narrative reached deep into my own losses. I felt like a fly on the wall, deeply grateful for the privilege of bearing witness to what was shared, in awe of the courage and the intimacy of the sharing. The work felt like an act of survival. And a gift to others. Thank you.

[Tamsyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

A beautiful book, a mother’s tribute to and story about her daughter. Helped me feel less alone in processing my own bereavement.