“Suicide…the elephant in the room”

“I think about my dad a lot more now, mostly because I’m almost 18, this month actually, his birthday is exactly one week after mine, and I’m a senior, and I wonder if he would be proud of me…”

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This was written two years ago, I feel the need to repost-
So I saw this on Facebook the other day, I have no idea who actually wrote it- but i paraphrased a little and posted it to my wall.

“I tried to begin to put up the tree and couldn’t get the strength to do it. I just couldn’t do it.  I stopped in my tracks and sat down and just went down memory lane…All I can say is it wasn’t pretty. I think I cried for over an hour with memories of what this time used to be for me and how it was filled with such love and anticipation – and now it brings back memories of the reality of emptiness and sadness.
So I would like to remind you that there are people for whatever reason are not looking forward to Christmas. Some people are not surrounded by large wonderful families.
Some of us have problems during the holidays and are overcome with great sadness when we remember the loved ones who are not with us any longer.
For many it is yet another Christmas without a particular loved one. Some of us still physically have our loved ones but Alzheimer’s has stolen their hearts and minds. And, many people have no one to spend these times with and are besieged by loneliness. We all need caring, loving thoughts right now.”

You all know by now that my Husband passed away ten years ago, but what you don’t know is this- He committed suicide, leaving behind brothers and sisters, a wife, two small children and two almost grown step-children. It damaged all of us, it left a gap nothing can fill. It left unanswered questions and feelings of guilt. It left a lot of us questioning our worth. People say ‘Oh, how did he pass? and when you answer you get that look. The one where you know those people want to sink into the ground, they are sorry they ever asked and wish they were anywhere else at the moment. The entire conversation gets awkward, sometimes those people never talk to you again because they don’t even know how to act around you. After a suicide, people you’ve known for years fade out of your life, they just can’t deal. You never, ever look at life the same way again.

Holidays seem especially hard for depressed people, I know they are hard for me. There are a lot of suicides around Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. Please- if you need help call

Call 1-800-273-8255
If you know somebody who is struggling, talk to them and encourage them to get help. Sadly, the ones who are serious usually don’t talk about it. If you know someone who has lost someone to suicide DO NOT SHUT THEM OUT! Let them know that when they are ready to talk you will listen. Don’t get stupid when somebody mentions suicide, talk about it. For Christ’s sake do not make them feel like its wrong to talk about.
Ten years later, my daughter, K, is finally speaking about her life. She gave me something to read today that ripped my heart from my chest, but I am rejoicing that she is finally finding words. Here they are:
“Losing a loved one.-
I picked this topic because at a glance I knew I would relate to it better than any of the other topics. But as I sit here, at my desk, I’m drawing a blank. Whenever this topic would come up I could never form the words, describing the situation was hard enough, but when people would ask me how I felt, putting it into words was nearly impossible. Instead of jumping right into it, let’s start at the beginning where any great story starts, though this is far from great.
I was always a daddy’s girl, I looked forward to him coming home after work, he would always make time to play with me, even though he was tired from working all day. He often worked laboring jobs, he always came home dirty and exhausted. On Saturday mornings, when I would wake up, I would lay in bed and call out for him, and when I heard him coming up the stairs I would dive under the covers and pretend to be asleep. He would jump on the bed, saying something along the lines of “I know I heard a little girl in here somewhere,” and when I would giggle, he would grab the blanket and pull it back saying “There she is!”. I vaguely remember his smile, he always looked at me with pure joy, and sometimes when I’m going through a rough patch, I think about that and wonder if he would still look at me like that, if I would have made him proud. I remember this one specific occasion, when I called out for him but he never came, I, being an impatient child, went down stairs, getting ready to demand an answer as to why he was ignoring me, but he wasn’t home, when I asked my mom she said he started working Saturday mornings. Instantly my little heart shattered, I don’t remember what I said to my mom, but I remember her saying “Don’t say that to your father, he already feels guilty working Saturday’s, you saying that will make him sad.” Thinking back on it now, if I had asked him to stay on Saturday’s he probably would have. Because of his long work days he would often miss my soccer games, but there were a few times where he did show up and it meant the world to me, and to make up for missing a game or a practice, we would play soccer outback, even when it started to get dark, we only came inside because mom would tell me he needs to relax after working all day, something he would have never told me, because he just wanted to make me happy. Being young I took all of that for granted, I didn’t realize how much those little things would mean to me, especially after the person is gone.
When I was 7 years old, my father, that I loved so much, killed himself. My mom was very upfront about it, she told me that he took his own life, even though I was young, because she didn’t want me to resent her for lying to me, because she knew my dad meant a lot to me. Of course being young I didn’t quite understand, but I got the ‘dead’ part and knew that he was never coming back. I locked those feelings away for a long time, I never dealt with his death properly. Years later at 15 years old, I found myself falling into what felt like an endless pit of numbness and depression, I contemplated suicide, and at that very first thought, it clicked in my head why my dad did it. Life is hard, things weigh on you, the never ending anxiety of not being good enough, especially in his position, a father of two children of his own, and two step children, struggling to make it working odd jobs with long hours, all while he struggled with alcoholism. He wasn’t a violent drunk, he just drank to escape his pain, and he tried his hardest to not be drunk in front of me. He was intoxicated when he killed himself, I’d like to believe that if he wasn’t, maybe he wouldn’t have done it, but then again if not that time then maybe another. I think about my dad a lot more now, mostly because I’m almost 18, this month actually, his birthday is exactly one week after mine, and I’m a senior, and I wonder if he would be proud of me, and I think about how he isn’t going to be at my high school graduation to greet and congratulate me like the rest of my family, or see me off to college, or be at my college graduation, and the reason why I swore I’d never get married, something no one else knows, is because he won’t be here to walk me down the aisle, or why I promised myself that I wouldn’t drink on my 21st birthday, or ever again in my life because he was an alcoholic and I don’t want to associate with the thing I believe to have been the cause of his decision, or the reason why I’m so bitter about holidays is because he isn’t here, holidays are about family, and we don’t have that, it will never be the same without him. Or how his death impacted me so much emotionally I find it hard to connect and open up to people, making relationships hard, getting close to someone and opening up and sharing my feelings scares me, I could name so many things that I view to be less painful than expressing my emotions. It’s so easy to vaguely vent about my emotion status to my best friend, but even though they’re my best friend I find it so hard to go in depth about how I feel and part of the reason is because I can’t find the words to use, I feel like half the time there isn’t a word or a sentence to describe how I feel. But mostly when I think about my dad I think about how he’s going to be absent from a lot of big milestones in my life, and the thought pains me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for the people I have. Because I am beyond grateful for the people I have.
From this I’ve ultimately learned some things about people and how their minds work, it makes me want to pursue a career in psychology. I want to study people and their emotions and functions more in depth, I want to find the root of things, and I want to counsel people and help them with their problems, because I don’t ever want someone to feel the way I’ve felt, and the way I sometimes still feel. I feel numb, and everything feels surreal like nothing and no one exists, including yourself like you’re having an out of body experience viewing everything from outside almost like you’re viewing someone else’s life, and you feel almost nothing, it’s just empty space with muffled noise and shapes painted in the distance, everything blends together, you can’t tell whether or not something happened that morning or a week ago. The only thing you feel is either a dull ache in your heart or a weight on your chest and sometimes you’re stuck with both and that’s the only reminder that you and everything else is real. Sometimes you can’t tell daydreams apart from reality, and at night you aren’t dreaming, you’re staring at the ceiling for hours thinking about all of those awful emotions that only seem to exist when the lights go out and you lay in bed crying and you wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a bus and you want nothing more than the sweet release of death but you can’t have it. Sometimes those emotions come alive and you’re stuck with body wracking sobs and you feel like there’s no air left in your lungs and you’re weeping out and hyperventilating and you can taste the bile in the back of your throat daring to bring everything you’ve eaten with it, if you’ve even eaten, you can lose interest in food as well as everything and anything that exists. There’s almost nothing worse than staring at or thinking about something you once enjoyed and not feeling that same spark of happiness. Those are all dark feelings that I would never want anyone to feel and if I can be there to help then I will. Because nobody should ever feel that way”
This is what my baby wrote, this it’s what we live with every day. This is the reality of suicide survivors. The ones left behind. This is depression, crippling devastating depression. The fear I live with every day is this; the children of parents who commit suicide are 80% more likely to attempt suicide at some point in their lives.
Treasure every moment of every day, and if you love someone tell them…
Please, if you need to talk do not hesitate to call the Hotline- Call 1-800-273-8255
Someone is there 24 hours a day

Alzheimer’s and Depression

We’re not in Kansas any more Toto….. Hell, Kansas ain’t even on the map.

Five years ago my mom forgot the Christmas tree in the trunk of her car…I thought that was bad. Now she thinks every day is Sunday. We’re not in Kansas any more Toto….. Hell, Kansas ain’t even on the map.

As mom progresses, my grandmother Helen comes to mind more often, Helen died of Alzheimer’s back in 2005. I was never as close to Helen as I am to my mom, but the symptoms are all to familiar. Some days I just cry for the mother I’ve lost- the confidante, the shoulder to cry on, the unconditional fan of my life. Other days I struggle with patience as we go around and around the same topics endlessly during a single conversation. Daily I thank God for the patience and strength of my father, who is an absolute rock through all of this. Most get-togethers are actually amusing, some can be stressful since she seems to get more angry more often. Yesterday was a good day, we had a late breakfast together at a restaurant and she kept it together most of the time. She talks to everyone now, and I mean everyone! She was best friends with the waitress by the time we left, even though she had no clue as what meal she had just eaten. We watched a huge party of elderly people come in with their walkers and wheelchairs and she commented on their diminished capacities and mental state, thanking God out loud that she still has her wits.. .I bit my tongue. Then we all went to BJ’s food shopping, I only lost her maybe five times. She is always easily found talking to random people, especially people with children. Somehow she feels the need to tell everyone that I’m adopted and all about God providing her with children. It’s cute actually, most people are very friendly and kind. One particular bitch almost got her head handed to her for being mean to my mother. She was so rude! Lord give me patience, because if You give me strength I might kill someone! Fortunately mom forgot in about two minutes, I however stewed over it for quite a while. My mom is obviously old and genteel looking, there was no need to be ignorant. The good news was we got her out of the house, she got some exercise and some socialization.

Christmases are harder now that she is not herself. My mother and my aunt (her sister) were the two that kept traditions and made Christmas spectacular. My aunt died of cancer so those Christmases are over. Mom doesn’t decorate or bake or shop or play old Christmas music anymore. It’s just not the same. My Husband is gone, his birthday was December 30… Christmas is just not right anymore. My daughter turns 18 next week, and she’s missing her dad for the milestone birthday, and she hates Christmas without him.

Depression sucks, it leaves people vulnerable and hurting. It robs you of joy, it impedes communication, it steals motivation, it can give you physical symptoms- headaches, loss of appetite, fatigue, weakness. My daughter and I both suffer from clinical and situational depression. Occasionally communication gets skewed and we both end up feeling attacked and hurt.

That happened this week. She’s been struggling real bad this month (see post Suicide… The elephant in the room), and so have I. I had a bad day, I wasn’t ready for my final exam, I ate at McDonald’s twice that day (after I just lost six pounds, I know, I’m stupid), I was trying to be a good parent and I ended up hurting her feelings trying to be parent, and then she hurt mine with the silent treatment. She had a bad day, she was too depressed to function. We both lost it, I went to my room and had it out with God – “You promised life wouldn’t be more than I can bear”, and my dead husband- one of those “if you can hear me I fucking hate you for leaving me alone” rants. Then I thought of all the million things I have failed at (there are many), and “what a waste of space I am, they’d probably be better off without me” crying jags complete with hyperventilation. She went and drove back roads for hours in the dark with her best friend feeling like she wanted to die, believing I hurt her on purpose,  and that I’d be better off without her…

It’s bad. Depression is dangerous and bad. I get scared for her. I don[t think either one of us would ever actually kill ourselves because we’ve lived through the aftermath of a suicide, but that doesn’t mean we don’t think about it or wish for never-ending sleep. It doesn’t mean we don’t occasionally feel like we are worthless, useless, and broken – because we do, all too often.

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There is no magic pill for Alzheimer’s or depression. You have to fight to live through it. Every damn day is a battle. It’s a choice to fight for one more day.

That was two days ago- we still are walking on eggshells around each other. I’m not ready for Christmas, I’m not in the spirit, even the tree holds little joy for me this year. Happiness comes in spurts, one minute I’m happy about my progress- the next I feel lifeless…

I’m just trying to keep it together one day at a time. So is my daughter.

Be kind to each other, be clear when you speak. Remember tomorrow is not promised. Be wary of each other’s feelings and never leave the words “I love you” unspoken.

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PS – I told you when I started, if you want a pretty story go read a fairy tale. This is real life. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

 

The Bitch In Me…

So I’m feeling rather bitchy today. I had already snapped at a friend, who has done nothing but support me, by 8 AM. I don’t understand why, but it seems I am ‘needing’ a cigarette more this week than last. I am short of patience and quick to anger at the moment.

So I’m feeling rather bitchy today. I had already snapped at a friend, who has done nothing but support me, by 8 AM. I don’t understand why, but it seems I am ‘needing’ a cigarette more this week than last. I am short of patience and quick to anger at the moment. I’ve already spent too much time on Facebook, scrolling through the newsfeed crying over the sad videos of sad animals or crying at the heartrending videos of soldiers being reunited with their loved ones after long deployments. This emotional crap has to go..

I found an entire pack of cigarettes last night in a hand bag I hadn’t opened since September. THAT WAS ROUGH! I gave to my daughter to get rid of, I didn’t even trust myself to put it in the trash- because then I would know it was there, beckoning me. Like the song of the siren, calling me to my eventual death….

Of course it has been a rather emotional week, especially dealing with my Husband’s suicide, again,, and I’m really not feeling the holiday cheer. My desperate attempts at doing crafts with the kids, grand kids, and friend’s kids to try and force myself to enjoy the holidays and forget about depression and cigarettes isn’t quite dealing with the actual issues of my depression. All it’s doing is putting off the inevitable cloud of misery that crashes down when I am alone. My heart is broken by my own pain, the pain of my children, and the pain of others experiencing loss, anxiety, and depression during the holidays. I am an empath, I carry my own pain and unfortunately assume the pain of others. I don’t think the Chantix is helping my depression, it’s definitely helping me not smoke but I’m pretty sure it’s exacerbating my emotional state.

On an up note I really did enjoy the time with the kids while it lasted. I felt like my old self which was a blessing I haven’t felt in a long time. So I do know that there is light at the end of the tunnel for me! The kids were ecstatic to be making gifts for their families, and for once not worrying about the tablets or the TV! Someday they will remember the time I spent and it will mean something. I remember all the things my grandparents did with me, and all the joy and laughter we shared. I was very fortunate to have my grandparents and my aunt and uncle so involved in my life. There were so many sleepovers and craft days, days of backyard fun, and playing on the beach, BBQ parties and board games or card games, chasing lightning bugs on a summer’s eve will always be in my heart.

I really wish I could go to the ocean, that ALWAYS fixes my emotional state. for-blog-2

Like life itself, the ocean holds a myriad of characteristics both dark and light, even so, as with people, occasionally the tempest consumes. Its waters raging, its surf pounding, with the crushing blows resounding over the face of the beach.  As if the ocean itself grows weary, letting its anger be known. Occasionally swirls of brown/green water roil in fury as lightening slashes, exposing the face of the water twisted and raw, and high jagged peaks of wrath mar its formerly friendly surface. No longer bathed in light and delicate froth the ocean roars. The sheer power and magnitude of the ocean is exhibited for all to see, reminding us that we are not always in control.  Nature itself knows no bounds and cannot be harnessed or broken.I could sometimes see a dark, barely moving depth giving the appearance of a foreboding glass surface, hiding the unknown in its depths: unspeakable horrors, darkness and death, so like the hearts of some men, full of deceit and ill will hidden beneath a smooth surface. There are treacherous currents waiting to rob one of both life and hope: Hope, the most important of all emotions, without hope, what is left?

The next moment the ocean is softly caressing the skin with its cool waters, washing away the clutch of the world and its weight, granting peace, It envelopes one’s self in a cocoon of separation from the day’s trouble and toil, allowing one’s self to be lost in the green/blue depths, floating carefree even if just for the moment, embracing one’s place in the world. All of these many aspects bring peace to me, my own soul a mirror of the ocean itself, its many moods exposed in the ocean’s surface. Though I am but tiny and insignificant compared to the depth and breadth of the ocean, my faith is renewed there, on that beach by the sea, my purpose redefined yet again.

Putting my feelings into words make them all the more true; some things are better left unspoken, as if speaking them give them life. The ocean required no words of me. It was a constant in a tilting world, but now I could see both the darkness and the light. I was trying hopelessly to cling to a childhood lost, a remnant of memory, a distant feeling of a time without division and discord. How I long for the shore of my youth! Yet still, the ocean is a refuge; somewhere in there is my old friend.

It is beautiful with the scent of salty air, the shifting breezes, the cry of gulls overhead, the sea grasses whispering in the background, while the surf crashes and roars as it continues its endless ebb and flow.

Now the Bitch in me is quiet, reflection on the past has soothed her for the moment. But I know this battle is not over. I will fight, I will continue to press on. I will not give up, and I will not give in. This is my life, and I am claiming it!

 

“Suicide…the elephant in the room”

“I think about my dad a lot more now, mostly because I’m almost 18, this month actually, his birthday is exactly one week after mine, and I’m a senior, and I wonder if he would be proud of me…”

So I saw this on Facebook the other day, I have no idea who actually wrote it- but i paraphrased a little and posted it to my wall.

“I tried to begin to put up the tree and couldn’t get the strength to do it. I just couldn’t do it.  I stopped in my tracks and sat down and just went down memory lane…All I can say is it wasn’t pretty. I think I cried for over an hour with memories of what this time used to be for me and how it was filled with such love and anticipation – and now it brings back memories of the reality of emptiness and sadness.
So I would like to remind you that there are people for whatever reason are not looking forward to Christmas. Some people are not surrounded by large wonderful families.
Some of us have problems during the holidays and are overcome with great sadness when we remember the loved ones who are not with us any longer.
For many it is yet another Christmas without a particular loved one. Some of us still physically have our loved ones but Alzheimer’s has stolen their hearts and minds. And, many people have no one to spend these times with and are besieged by loneliness. We all need caring, loving thoughts right now.”

You all know by now that my Husband passed away ten years ago, but what you don’t know is this- He committed suicide, leaving behind brothers and sisters, a wife, two small children and two almost grown step-children. It damaged all of us, it left a gap nothing can fill. It left unanswered questions and feelings of guilt. It left a lot of us questioning our worth. People say ‘Oh, how did he pass? and when you answer you get that look. The one where you know those people want to sink into the ground, they are sorry they ever asked and wish they were anywhere else at the moment. The entire conversation gets awkward, sometimes those people never talk to you again because they don’t even know how to act around you. After a suicide, people you’ve known for years fade out of your life, they just can’t deal. You never, ever look at life the same way again.

Holidays seem especially hard for depressed people, I know they are hard for me. There are a lot of suicides around Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. Please- if you need help call

Call 1-800-273-8255
If you know somebody who is struggling, talk to them and encourage them to get help. Sadly, the ones who are serious usually don’t talk about it. If you know someone who has lost someone to suicide DO NOT SHUT THEM OUT! Let them know that when they are ready to talk you will listen. Don’t get stupid when somebody mentions suicide, talk about it. For Christ’s sake do not make them feel like its wrong to talk about.
Ten years later, my daughter, K, is finally speaking about her life. She gave me something to read today that ripped my heart from my chest, but I am rejoicing that she is finally finding words. Here they are:
“Losing a loved one.-
I picked this topic because at a glance I knew I would relate to it better than any of the other topics. But as I sit here, at my desk, I’m drawing a blank. Whenever this topic would come up I could never form the words, describing the situation was hard enough, but when people would ask me how I felt, putting it into words was nearly impossible. Instead of jumping right into it, let’s start at the beginning where any great story starts, though this is far from great.
I was always a daddy’s girl, I looked forward to him coming home after work, he would always make time to play with me, even though he was tired from working all day. He often worked laboring jobs, he always came home dirty and exhausted. On Saturday mornings, when I would wake up, I would lay in bed and call out for him, and when I heard him coming up the stairs I would dive under the covers and pretend to be asleep. He would jump on the bed, saying something along the lines of “I know I heard a little girl in here somewhere,” and when I would giggle, he would grab the blanket and pull it back saying “There she is!”. I vaguely remember his smile, he always looked at me with pure joy, and sometimes when I’m going through a rough patch, I think about that and wonder if he would still look at me like that, if I would have made him proud. I remember this one specific occasion, when I called out for him but he never came, I, being an impatient child, went down stairs, getting ready to demand an answer as to why he was ignoring me, but he wasn’t home, when I asked my mom she said he started working Saturday mornings. Instantly my little heart shattered, I don’t remember what I said to my mom, but I remember her saying “Don’t say that to your father, he already feels guilty working Saturday’s, you saying that will make him sad.” Thinking back on it now, if I had asked him to stay on Saturday’s he probably would have. Because of his long work days he would often miss my soccer games, but there were a few times where he did show up and it meant the world to me, and to make up for missing a game or a practice, we would play soccer outback, even when it started to get dark, we only came inside because mom would tell me he needs to relax after working all day, something he would have never told me, because he just wanted to make me happy. Being young I took all of that for granted, I didn’t realize how much those little things would mean to me, especially after the person is gone.
When I was 7 years old, my father, that I loved so much, killed himself. My mom was very upfront about it, she told me that he took his own life, even though I was young, because she didn’t want me to resent her for lying to me, because she knew my dad meant a lot to me. Of course being young I didn’t quite understand, but I got the ‘dead’ part and knew that he was never coming back. I locked those feelings away for a long time, I never dealt with his death properly. Years later at 15 years old, I found myself falling into what felt like an endless pit of numbness and depression, I contemplated suicide, and at that very first thought, it clicked in my head why my dad did it. Life is hard, things weigh on you, the never ending anxiety of not being good enough, especially in his position, a father of two children of his own, and two step children, struggling to make it working odd jobs with long hours, all while he struggled with alcoholism. He wasn’t a violent drunk, he just drank to escape his pain, and he tried his hardest to not be drunk in front of me. He was intoxicated when he killed himself, I’d like to believe that if he wasn’t, maybe he wouldn’t have done it, but then again if not that time then maybe another. I think about my dad a lot more now, mostly because I’m almost 18, this month actually, his birthday is exactly one week after mine, and I’m a senior, and I wonder if he would be proud of me, and I think about how he isn’t going to be at my high school graduation to greet and congratulate me like the rest of my family, or see me off to college, or be at my college graduation, and the reason why I swore I’d never get married, something no one else knows, is because he won’t be here to walk me down the aisle, or why I promised myself that I wouldn’t drink on my 21st birthday, or ever again in my life because he was an alcoholic and I don’t want to associate with the thing I believe to have been the cause of his decision, or the reason why I’m so bitter about holidays is because he isn’t here, holidays are about family, and we don’t have that, it will never be the same without him. Or how his death impacted me so much emotionally I find it hard to connect and open up to people, making relationships hard, getting close to someone and opening up and sharing my feelings scares me, I could name so many things that I view to be less painful than expressing my emotions. It’s so easy to vaguely vent about my emotion status to my best friend, but even though they’re my best friend I find it so hard to go in depth about how I feel and part of the reason is because I can’t find the words to use, I feel like half the time there isn’t a word or a sentence to describe how I feel. But mostly when I think about my dad I think about how he’s going to be absent from a lot of big milestones in my life, and the thought pains me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for the people I have. Because I am beyond grateful for the people I have.
From this I’ve ultimately learned some things about people and how their minds work, it makes me want to pursue a career in psychology. I want to study people and their emotions and functions more in depth, I want to find the root of things, and I want to counsel people and help them with their problems, because I don’t ever want someone to feel the way I’ve felt, and the way I sometimes still feel. I feel numb, and everything feels surreal like nothing and no one exists, including yourself like you’re having an out of body experience viewing everything from outside almost like you’re viewing someone else’s life, and you feel almost nothing, it’s just empty space with muffled noise and shapes painted in the distance, everything blends together, you can’t tell whether or not something happened that morning or a week ago. The only thing you feel is either a dull ache in your heart or a weight on your chest and sometimes you’re stuck with both and that’s the only reminder that you and everything else is real. Sometimes you can’t tell daydreams apart from reality, and at night you aren’t dreaming, you’re staring at the ceiling for hours thinking about all of those awful emotions that only seem to exist when the lights go out and you lay in bed crying and you wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a bus and you want nothing more than the sweet release of death but you can’t have it. Sometimes those emotions come alive and you’re stuck with body wracking sobs and you feel like there’s no air left in your lungs and you’re weeping out and hyperventilating and you can taste the bile in the back of your throat daring to bring everything you’ve eaten with it, if you’ve even eaten, you can lose interest in food as well as everything and anything that exists. There’s almost nothing worse than staring at or thinking about something you once enjoyed and not feeling that same spark of happiness. Those are all dark feelings that I would never want anyone to feel and if I can be there to help then I will. Because nobody should ever feel that way”
This is what my baby wrote, this it’s what we live with every day. This is the reality of suicide survivors. The ones left behind. This is depression, crippling devastating depression. The fear I live with every day is this; the children of parents who commit suicide are 80% more likely to attempt suicide at some point in their lives.
Treasure every moment of every day, and if you love someone tell them…
Please, if you need to talk do not hesitate to call the Hotline- Call 1-800-273-8255
Someone is there 24 hours a day