Today is World Suicide Prevention Day

This week is National Suicide Prevention Week. Today is National Suicide Prevention Day. I'm not sure how I feel about these kinds of days when we should be kind and vigilant and aware everyday. I don't know how I feel because a day, a week is not enough. Nothing seems like enough. But it's something, right? And we need reminders. We need wind in our sails. We need momentum. So these kinds of days are good for something, right?

I decided this morning that if I wait until my thoughts on this are formed well enough, lined up neatly enough, settled and clear enough, to write something direct, tight, and lovely; I will never write anything. So, these are thoughts as they fall on the keyboard.

Two years ago, around this time, my teenagers felt their second loss of a peer to suicide. We did what we could to walk them through the complex thoughts and feelings, the grief, loss, anger. We told them that no matter what, that there is nothing that they couldn't come to us with. We told them that there is no shame in this family. We told them that we would walk them through any darkness they encountered. We told them to come to us.

A year and a half ago, my teenage daughter called me into her room. It was the day after Valentine's Day, the day after a great dinner with their friends, the day after the last words I said to them as I went up the stairs were, "It's really hard to be a parent. Sometimes I have no idea what to do or say,  but I'm learning. I'm so lucky to have you. Thank you, for teaching me. Thank you, for making this easier than it could be." They smiled, shrugged, called me silly, and were clearly embarrassed that I'd said this in front of their friends. I told them I loved them, and went to bed.

Anyway, she called me into her room and said, crying, "Mama, I'm not okay." I was relieved that she was talking to me. I'd been worried. I hinted, but never asked directly how she was, never pushed in, tried to give her space to be herself. She just kept saying, "Mama, I'm not okay." She looked terrified. My immediate thoughts went to pregnancy. She had the same boyfriend for over a year, and I didn't think they were having sex, but what else could have her so riled up? I asked her what was wrong. She just kept repeating herself. I told her I couldn't help her unless she let me know what was wrong. Then she told me. She had purposely overdosed, an attempt to leave us, and I would find out later that this was not an act of momentary desperation, but part of a plan she'd had for some time.

Enter ambulance, counseling, surviving, and new eyes for all of us regarding our family, depression, and suicide. She was depressed. I thought I knew what depression looked like. I'd seen it plenty of times before in friends, in family, in co-workers. We have mental health issues coming down like rain in our family, so I was being vigilant. I thought I was being vigilant. For her, depression looks like a girl who is generally pleasant, funny, and engaged. Then exhausted from the effort. This is what depression looked like: an easy kid, generally pleasant, straight A's, good friends, healthy relationships, cross country practice every day after school, a good diet, exercise, journaling about life, making lists of things to be happy about and grateful for, a loving and supportive family, ... she was doing everything right. None of it was enough to keep her hanging on.

I thank all that's good and holy, every single day, for her last minute choice to stay with us. I'd like to say that I learned so much in the last year and a half and that there it's been a path of sunshine and roses and each day getting brighter than the day before. It hasn't been that way. Healing happens. Good days outnumber bad days. Absolute panic still sometimes set when she decided to sleep in or she starts spending a lot of time alone.

Now, I follow her -- I push in. I don't worry that I'm being a pushy mom. I need to be a pushy mom. She talks to us. She checks in. We check in. We are all working it out, and things are a lot better. Before, the funny thing is that she seemed so perfect, so happy, but it was a lie. Now, that she's getting the help and support she needs, she's kind of a little shit. haha. She is moody, funny, loud, angry, sad, happy -- typically stormy. She isn't the "perfect kid" on the outside that is suffering profoundly on the inside anymore. She is the perfectly perfect typical mess of teenager, slashing and skipping and stumbling and sashaying her way toward adulthood.

When she stumbles I want to catch her -- every time. But I know I won't. I know I can't. So it's incumbent on me to teach her to catch herself, to do what I can to build resiliency, to assure her every moment of every day that she is never a burden. To force her out of her comfort zone and comfort her through it.

She hates counseling. She has to go. She makes progress. She hates making safety plans, but uses them. We are moving, inch by inch.

I tell her that there is no shame here. And there isn't.

I think that's my little post for Suicide Prevention Day. There is no easy fix. We will not always win these battles. But maybe we can work toward erasing the shame.

I am terrified to post this. It's private information. It's so culturally shameful that I worry about my reputation among my friends, peers, co-workers, ... But see, that's the problem. That's what keeps us from talking about it. That's what kept her from telling us. We could assure her all day long that there is no shame in our home, but she didn't want to worry us. She was embarrassed. She was actively hiding how she felt.

She told us while she was in the hospital that there was nothing we could have done. That she was hiding it. That she thought she had it under control. That she never thought it would go that far. I'm going to say that again. She thought she had it under control. She never thought it would go that far. She didn't want to bother us with it. She was embarrassed.

We need to be willing to be bothered.
We need to be willing to bother the people we love by being concerned.
We need to let go of shame.
We need to tell our truths, so others are emboldened to do the same.

There is no magical or simple solution to the complex problems that lead to suicide. I'm thankful every day for the two people in my immediate family that have survived their attempts. I'm thankful I survived mine, or the world would have six fewer amazing children in it. We need to be watchful, we need to look after each other and ourselves.

Here are some nifty links:

Stay Here with Me -- this site has a lot of personal stories. It's pretty effin' inspiring.

The Madness Vase -- Andrea Gibson -- this poem, and a lot of prayer and light from friends and family, and more and more, helped us through our really rough patches. I have cried more tears and blown more tissues full of grief-stuff while watching this poem than just about any other video on this subject.

Suicide prevention -- this is a good link -- good stuff.

Hey, please, please, hang on. You are so amazing. The world needs you. Always.