Suicide Prevention Day

Today, September 10th, marks Suicide Prevention Day, a day that holds profound significance for me on multiple levels. It serves as a poignant reminder of the fragility of life and the deep emotional struggles that many individuals face. This day is particularly meaningful because I have known several individuals who have tragically taken their own lives, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions and heartache. Each of these losses has left an indelible mark on my life and has shaped my understanding of mental health, grief, and the importance of reaching out for help. I have personally faced my own battles with suicidal thoughts and attempts, experiences that have been both harrowing and enlightening, and I find myself reflecting on them more frequently as this day approaches. As a teenager, I navigated through a myriad of emotions and challenges, yet even during my darkest times, the thought of ending my life never crossed my mind. I was in a phase of life where the idea of death felt foreign and abstract. At that age, death wasn’t something I actively contemplated or viewed as a viable option. It was almost as if I existed in a bubble, shielded from the harsh realities that others faced. When I was a child, the concept of death seemed like a distant shadow, something that happened to others but not to me or my loved ones. I had heard stories of loss and grief, but without personal involvement, those narratives didn't resonate with me in a profound way. Looking back, I did experience the loss of a few people during my younger years, but those experiences were not enough to negatively impact my outlook on life at that time. Instead, I found myself captivated by the mysteries surrounding death. I developed a fascination with tales of ghosts and the supernatural, immersing myself in stories about individuals who could communicate with spirits or the afterlife. These narratives sparked my imagination and allowed me to explore the concept of death in a safe and intriguing manner, but they did not lead me to consider my own mortality or the mortality of those I cared about. It was a time filled with innocence and curiosity, where the complexities of life and death were merely themes in the stories I read rather than realities I had to confront. I often found myself lost in books that delved into the supernatural, captivated by the idea that death could be a bridge to another realm rather than an end. I reveled in the thrill of ghost stories and the mysteries of the unknown, but the thought of experiencing loss in my own life felt like a distant concern, one that I could push aside as I navigated the joys and challenges of growing up.

During my teenage years, a time filled with emotional turmoil and confusion, I turned to self-harm as a misguided way to cope with my inner struggles. I would harm myself, seeking relief from the overwhelming emotions that consumed me, and then go to great lengths to hide the evidence from those around me. I clearly remember an instance when I cut my wrists, the sharp sting of the blade offering a brief distraction from the emotional pain that felt unbearable. To conceal the marks of my distress, I wrapped a sweatband around my wrist, hoping it would effectively shield me from prying eyes and questions I wasn't ready to answer. My mother, however, noticed my actions. I recall her looking at me with a mix of anger and annoyance, saying, “I know what you are doing; if you want to go to a mental hospital, I’ll take you there.” Her words cut deeply, filled with an unexpected indifference. She never took the time to ask about my reasons or the emotions driving me to such desperate actions. My silent cries for help met with high disregard, and I longed for her to ask why I was hurting, to show genuine concern for my well-being, and to offer the support I desperately needed. It's important to clarify that I never intended to die; ending my life was not my goal. If that had been my aim, I knew how to inflict harm in a potentially fatal way. Instead, my actions reflected a deep need for love and attention—a desperate plea for someone to notice my pain and reach out. I wished for my mother to show concern, to sit with me and ask about my feelings, to explore the reasons behind my self-destructive behavior. I wanted her to understand that this was not just a reckless act, but a profound expression of my internal struggle, a longing for connection and healing that felt out of reach. However, her response was far from what I had hoped for. Instead of the compassion and understanding I craved, I faced a reality that felt isolating and lonely. The lack of dialogue about my feelings only deepened my despair, trapping me in a cycle of self-harm and silence. I yearned for a bridge between my inner world and the outside, but instead, I felt like I was sinking further into a chasm of emotional isolation, where my cries for help went unheard.

As I grew older and encountered various life experiences, my views and understanding of death evolved significantly. As I navigated through challenges, achievements, and profound moments of reflection, my beliefs began to change. This shift led me to the unsettling thought that perhaps I might be better off dead. I grappled with the notion that my absence might somehow alleviate the burdens of those I loved, creating a complex relationship with my own existence. These troubling thoughts intensified particularly after I became a parent. The hormonal changes from pregnancy and childbirth, coupled with the immense responsibility of nurturing a new life, likely amplified my emotional state. During this tumultuous period, I started questioning my worth and place in the world. Overwhelmed by feelings of inadequacy and the fear of not providing the best for my children, I spiraled into negative thoughts. I often wondered if leaving this life might somehow be a relief for my loved ones, mistakenly believing they would be better off without me. However, I want to emphasize that it has been several years since I last experienced such dark thoughts. The journey towards healing and self-acceptance has been transformative. Through various methods, including therapy, mindfulness practices, and consciously shifting my mindset, I began to change how I viewed both the world and my own self-worth. I learned to appreciate life's small joys, recognize the value of my contributions, and understand the importance of my presence in the lives of my family and friends. This change in perspective has been truly liberating. The thoughts that once haunted me have completely disappeared, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose and connection to life. I have developed a deeper appreciation for the relationships I cherish and the moments that bring joy. With gratitude, I reflect on the progress I have made, acknowledging that the journey through darkness can lead to a profound understanding of light. I now embrace life with hope and resilience, firmly believing that my existence holds value and meaning.

The only thing that ever held me back during those challenging times was the persistent and haunting thought of my children growing up without a mother. The very idea of my daughters navigating the complexities of life without a mom to lean on, to guide them through the myriad of challenges that life inevitably throws their way, weighed heavily on my heart. I have always wished to be that steadfast presence in their lives, offering support, wisdom, and love as they encounter both the triumphs and tribulations of adulthood. Additionally, the thought of not being there for the mother/son dance on the momentous occasion of my boys' weddings filled me with a profound sense of sorrow. I envisioned the joy of witnessing them take this significant step in their lives, but the thought of being absent from such a pivotal moment was almost unbearable. Moreover, I often contemplated the bittersweet reality of never getting to hold my grandchildren in my arms. The image of them growing up without the warmth and affection of a grandmother to turn to was a heartbreaking notion. I cherished my maternal grandmother deeply; she was a unique figure in my life, one who, despite not fitting the mold of the typical sweet and gentle grandma, held an irreplaceable place in my heart. She was my confidante, my cheerleader, and my source of wisdom during the tumultuous times of my youth. Her unwavering support and presence provided me with comfort and strength whenever I needed it. It’s hard to believe that she passed away nearly three years ago, on her birthday, which adds another layer of complexity to my grief. December 13th will forever be a bittersweet day for me, as it marks not only her birthday but also the day I lost one of the most important people in my life. The memories of her laughter, her stories, and the lessons she imparted continue to resonate within me, even as time marches on. I still can’t believe it’s been that long since she left this world, and the void she created remains palpable. The legacy of love and resilience she instilled in me continues to inspire me to be the mother and grandmother I aspire to be, ensuring that I am there for my children and future grandchildren, just like she was for me.

A picture of my beautiful Nana and me. She didn't pass away due to suicide; she passed away from dementia. She endured 3 difficult years with it.

Even in my most challenging moments, I managed to concentrate entirely on my children, despite feeling as though I was letting them down completely. In those difficult times, when the weight of my own struggles seemed unbearable, I found a way to shift my focus towards my children. I made a conscious effort to be present for them, to engage in their lives, and to show them that they were my priority. Yet, deep down, I often grappled with the haunting feeling that I was failing them, that I was not the parent they deserved. I think about the times spent with my oldest son, and all the years I missed with him—years that could have been filled with laughter, bonding, and shared experiences. The memories we could have created together are overshadowed by the regrets of moments lost, moments that slipped through my fingers because I treated him poorly during crucial phases of his development. There were instances when I let my own frustrations and insecurities spill over, affecting our relationship in ways I didn’t fully comprehend at the time. I remember the look in his eyes, a mixture of confusion and hurt, as he struggled to understand why I couldn't provide the emotional support he so desperately needed. He couldn't handle the pressure that came from my shortcomings, and in those moments, I felt the painful realization that my love, while genuine and deep, was not enough. I loved him, don't get me wrong; my heart was full of affection for him. But similar to my relationship with my mother, I found myself unable to provide him with the profound, nurturing love that he required to thrive. My mom loves me, but not in the way I need from her. There has always been a disconnect between what I receive and what I yearn for. Her love is there, unwavering and constant, yet it lacks the depth of understanding and emotional connection that I crave. This realization has been a painful journey, as I reflect on how my own experiences with maternal love have shaped my ability to connect with my son. I often wonder if I am repeating patterns, if I am passing down the same emotional distance that I felt growing up. It is a cycle I desperately want to break, to ensure that my children feel valued and cherished in the way that I sometimes struggled to feel. In striving to be a better parent, I hope to learn from my past mistakes and to cultivate a relationship with my son that is rich in empathy, warmth, and unconditional love.

Moments are simply moments, transient and fleeting, while life itself is a vast and expansive journey filled with myriad experiences, lessons, and transformations. When we begin to see things from a broader perspective, our outlook on life undergoes a profound change, shifting from a narrow focus on immediate circumstances to a wider appreciation of the intricate tapestry of our existence. This shift in perspective allows us to recognize that each moment, whether joyful or challenging, serves a purpose within the grand scheme of our lives. I understand that even after the fiercest storms, there is inevitably a rainbow and clear skies waiting on the other side. The storms of life may be tumultuous and overwhelming, but they are often followed by periods of tranquility and clarity that remind us of the beauty that can emerge from hardship. I just need to persevere through it, holding onto the belief that brighter days are ahead. This perseverance is not merely a passive waiting; it is an active engagement with life, a determination to push through difficulties with resilience and hope. As I reflect on my journey, I've come to realize that everything that has happened to me—both the triumphs and the trials—has played a crucial role in shaping the person I am today. Each experience, whether it brought joy or pain, has contributed to my growth and development. I am very proud of who I've become, not just for my achievements, but for the strength I've discovered within myself. In my darkest times, I couldn't have imagined being proud of myself; I struggled with self-doubt and a lack of self-acceptance. I didn't like who I was back then, feeling lost and unworthy. However, I no longer feel that way. Through reflection and self-compassion, I have embraced my identity and am glad to be who I am. Do I sometimes wish for other people's talents? Of course, there are moments when I admire the skills and abilities of others, wishing I could easily replicate their gifts. However, I have come to understand that I possess my own unique talents that set me apart, talents that others may not have. For instance, one of my most cherished abilities is the capacity to be kind to others, even when they are unkind to me. This kindness is not a sign of weakness; rather, it is a profound strength that allows me to maintain my integrity and compassion in the face of adversity. It is this unique talent that enriches my life and the lives of those around me, reminding me that every moment, no matter how challenging, is an opportunity for growth and connection.

Those that Died from Suicide

I’ve known several people in my life who have died by suicide. I also recall hearing about a girl from another high school in my county (each city had its own high school) who took her own life. I knew people who were acquainted with her, but I didn't know her personally.

The first person I knew who took his own life was a friend of my cousin. During my high school years, I lived in Florida, while my cousin and his friend were in Missouri. They visited us one summer for a week, and I got along really well with him, much to my cousin's dismay. Later, I visited them in Missouri for a week and we still got along just as well, despite my cousin's continued dislike (he even threw a knife at me once). Years later, he (my cousin’s friend) got married and had children (I can't recall if it was two or three). One night, he and his wife had a major argument, and she kicked him out of the house. He tried reaching out to those he usually turned to in such situations, but no one answered. Feeling completely alone, he ended his life that night. Things could have worked out, but he didn't give them the chance. Now, his children have to grow up without him.

During my time in the military, a colleague of mine took his own life. We toured Germany together, which allowed us to bond and enjoy the beautiful surroundings, including a visit to France. He was always joking and smiling. Although I was aware he had been through a divorce, that was the extent of what I knew about his personal struggles. I never imagined he was so troubled that he would choose to end his life, but he did. I have a photo of him from behind while we were in Germany on another blog. Like a ghost, he came and went.

The man sitting in front of me (I’m the one with my tongue sticking out in the back) is the man that took his own life, he was my friend 💔😭 It’s easy to see the sadness on his face now.

A month later, another military colleague faced the tragic loss of her husband to suicide. He left behind his son, whose mother had already departed to pursue a life of travel. My coworker then took on the responsibility of caring for her stepson by herself.

This website serves as a poignant and vital platform that offers a unique opportunity to view a collection of photographs and read deeply personal narratives shared by the relatives and friends of individuals who have tragically chosen to take their own lives. Each story is a testament to the profound and lasting impact that these losses have had on the lives of those left behind. By visiting this site, you can gain insight into the emotional turmoil experienced by these individuals, who often grapple with the haunting thoughts that their loved ones may have felt isolated and unloved in their final moments. Each post is a powerful reminder of the devastating belief that can lead someone to think, "nobody loves me, I should end my life." Moreover, the narratives shared on the website illustrate the complex web of emotions that surround such tragedies. They reveal not only the sorrow and grief that accompany the loss but also the love and memories that continue to live on in the hearts of those who remain. The relatives articulate their struggles with feelings of guilt, confusion, and anger, as well as their journey toward healing and understanding. Through these heartfelt accounts, visitors can witness the stark contrast between the perceived reality of loneliness and the actual love and support that existed, often unbeknownst to the individuals who felt compelled to end their lives. This website not only serves as a memorial for those who have passed but also acts as an educational resource, shedding light on the importance of mental health awareness and the need for open conversations about suicide. The stories encourage readers to reflect on their own relationships and to recognize the signs of someone who may be struggling. By sharing these experiences, the website aims to foster a sense of community and support, reminding everyone that they are not alone in their pain and that there is always hope for healing and connection.