Monday, June 22, 2015

My son did not "commit" suicide.


My son did not “commit” suicide.  Dealing with grief is always difficult; dealing with death by suicide is even more complicated.  My son died from an untreated depression, an illness caused by an imbalance of certain chemicals in the brain.  It is just like any other illness, but this illness carries the stigma of a “mental” illness.  Mental illness is a neurological illness.  We need to help eliminate the image of a crazy person in a padded cell with the word mental illness because most struggling with this illness are just like you and me except they are fighting a battle internally that we cannot see.

Since my son Tommy died by suicide, I have realized that his illness was so incredibly intense and overwhelming that he could not escape from the pain no matter how hard he tried.  Depression causes immense suffering.  Depression prevents those suffering from being able to look forward to anything (including a bright future and the birth of their first child).  The depressed can only think about how they feel in that moment and have lost the ability to envision a future without pain.  Many times, those suffering don’t even realize their illness is treatable.  The depression doesn’t allow them to think or consider the people around them, their families, or friends; they are too consumed with emotional pain that becomes unbearable.  They feel hopeless.  They feel helpless.   They don’t want to die, but their brain tricks them into believing it’s the only way the pain will end.  For them, it is not a choice; it’s a reaction to the agonizing pain they are feeling. 

When I tell someone how my son died it is often followed by a silence or a look of fear.  The people that know how our son died often don't even bring up his name; thinking it's best not to talk about it.  The silence is the main reason for the discrimination and stigma.  The silence tells me that the person has decided that this kind of death is not acceptable because it is self-inflicted.  In many people’s minds, suicide occurs because of weakness or lack of character.  Many don’t understand that a mental illness is the same as a physical illness.  We need to support those with a mental illness and their families the same way we would with someone suffering from a physical illness such as cancer. 

The phrase “committed suicide” causes great pain to those who have been affected by suicide.  The word “committed” was used during the Middle Ages because suicide was considered illegal and sinful.  Now hundreds of years later we know so much more about mental disorders.  We know mental disorders can and often do lead to suicide.  So let’s stop using this outdated vocabulary and start breaking the stigma of mental illness.  Unfortunately, most people misunderstand suicide and the effects of it; so the myths are propagated. 

Compassion is a choice.  Education and understanding is a choice.  Suicide is not. 

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

The roller coaster

I have been in a bit of a funk over the past several weeks and been having a difficult time dealing with it let alone putting into words.  I am sure it is part of the “grief roller coaster” along with some post-traumatic stress, hormones, and life circumstances all rolled into one.  My heart has been heavy and I have found myself disappointed a lot.  I am disappointed in myself for not dealing with situations and people better.  I am disappointed that this is my life, because I expected my life to be so different.  I am disappointed that I have such a difficult time keeping the negative thoughts from my mind.  I am disappointed that I don’t always recognize the blessings, because I am too often consumed with the pain.  I am disappointed that I am such an emotional mess and my family is the one who has to deal with it.  I am disappointed in people and their lack of understanding, compassion, and love for people who are hurting.  The things I find solace in are the quite times I have in God’s presence, the few times I get to hold my 17 year old daughter (which isn’t often), the times I get to snuggle with my grandbaby, and the times God uses me to help another.  I know this season of disappointment is just that, a season.  I know that it is part of the transformation to become this new person I am becoming.  There are moments that I smile instead of cry, because I know my son experienced joy and love in his life even though there was pain in his mind.  I find peace in knowing he is no longer hurting and is resting in God’s presence, but the selfishness in me wants him here.  All of this is by far more then I could ever handle on my own and so I am so incredibly thankful for Jesus and the strength and peace he bestows upon me every day.