I won’t lie. I’ve been impacted and on the verge of tears all day about Tony Scott’s reported suicide in California. He’d jumped off a bridge, left contact information in his car, and left a suicide note at home.
Thinking of killing yourself? You matter. Call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) for the National Suicide Prevention Hotline.
A well publicized suicide will do that to me or a suicide close to me somehow; a relative of a friend, or a friend of a friend. A friend’s beloved father. A neighbor’s son. A mother of a new friend who is a suicide survivor herself, all gone because of suicide.
I am most of all on days like this, the mother of a son who wanted to die for a long time. Today I’m not the kidney mom, or the mom of kids with learning disabilities. I’m the mom to a child who will always be at risk for wanting to die. That is the thought that overwhelms me. Today.
When stories like this are told there’s an entirely other back story you will probably never hear about that involve the people that love the person that is gone. In a lot of cases they’ve tried exactly the same things we did. They tried loving them more and different. They tried doctors and medication and yoga and art or cognitive therapy. They put them on watch; either the kind that is acknowledged or the kind that it subconscious.
Before we realized what we were doing, we just made sure Gage was never alone, whenever possible. There was that window in the middle of the night. The 4 hours he was alone – between 2am – 6am – when I reasoned he was in REM sleep. It was staggered suicide watching that we didn’t even plan to do, it just sort of happened because I was afraid to go to sleep and Julian was afraid to stay asleep.
I think a lot about our unintentional suicide watch and how not every family can do that with their loved ones because they’re older and they have more resources. The can’t do it because they don’t live together and they’re not the caregiver in a sense they can control the environment. Maybe one day we won’t be able to do that.
I always, always think about those families who can’t look at their loved ones when they hear or see a story like the story told today because they didn’t survive the darkest days. In the horrific days during the worst times in Gage’s story I couldn’t see him at age 13 and smiling and all I could do is try and wait. And hope. Try and wait.
Trying and waiting is the only thing we could do and I suspect that we can ever do. I hope that with maturity Gage understands there is a way out. I want to believe that he’ll remember he survived it once and can come out of the darkness again.
Tony Scott’s wonderful life and tragic death make me remember the dark days and the days Gage regained joy. It also brings out the PTSD that lives inside of me. Sometimes it is dormant. Sometimes I wonder how close we might be to an episode that could lead us down the dark path. Even in the days of joy that we experience quite a lot of today, the dark days loom because I know they are possible.
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Oh honey.
I could commiserate, but that’s not helpful.
Know that I empathize. Actually, I sympathize. And I hold you and Gage and the Scott family in my heart.
I know you know, and I so appreciate that you do (but still wish you didn’t).
Just today Slasher told me a story about a friend of his from high school who was killed by a drunker driver. It turns out that the friend was being a designated driver for his friend who survived the crash. The friend who survived couldn’t bear the burden and committed suicide.
It took my breath away. The despair. The hopelessness.
I feel for Tony Scott’s family. But for you even more. I’m sending you my support. And light.
Thank you my friend.
such a traumatic trigger, I can see how it would bring you back.
after a lifetime battling illness and demons, my sister in law killed herself just weeks before our first daughter was born. needless to say, my husband’s family has never been the same since. and just yesterday, we learned of a more distant family friend who committed suicide after a recent cancer diagnosis. awful.
thank you for sharing this.
Suicide reaches are far and last a long, long time. I hope your family has found peace.
Oh honey. Big hugs. I know how scary all of this is. Just keep doing what you’re doing. You’re such an awesome mom.
Being online just makes me hear more of them too so I think that ends up also contributing to my anxiety around the future.
Thanks for posting this. A close friend of mine attempted suicide – but by the mercy of God, not successfully. Years later, he is doing well, in that really-honestly-happy-to-be-here-each-day kind of way. He came out of the darkness, fully, and has been holding onto the light. Not to say that the risk is ever gone, or that it never crosses the mind of those who love him – but, it’s good to remember that not all hope is fleeting. Although the dark days are always possible and it’s wise and necessary to be vigilant, I pray for Gage and for my friend that they will never ever come back.
Thank you for your kind words. The risk is always there, but we hope with each episode/trigger, we can move forward with more knowledge than last time we dealt with it. Peace to your friend.
Hearing the news didn’t do it for me, but reading your writing today has my heart racing, and suddenly I’m standing outside the bathroom door, straining to hear if he is grabbing the bottle of pills, or just packing his bag.
I remember falling to my knees walking away from the hospital when I said goodbye and handed a crushed person over to a doctor, so that they could resume the watch that I was no longer able to do on my own.
You are so right, although sometimes it is dormant, it never truly goes away. Like Gage, my husband is ok now, but still, there are moments that I watch what I say, or worry that a bad day will tip the scales, and it is always in the back of my mind, “what if he goes back to that place again?”
It is always so close to the chest isn’t it? I sometimes feel like I’m one breath away from crying about it – which is why a trigger like Tony Scott suicide hit me so hard.
Peace to you and yours always. And hoping you all stay in the light.
This was me, scared out of my mind for my brother, seven years ago. I never ever ever thought I’d be able to let go of that fear. It has been seven years, he is doing amazingly well. He’s a junior in college. He is brilliant, beloved, and at home on stage doing stand up comedy and improv. I never ever could have imagined that he’d climb out of that pit, and seven years later he’d be so amazing. But it happened. He’s still on meds, as am I, but it’s under control.
Events like this shake me to my core. They terrify me. But there is always hope. Because seven years later, it’s all just a bad memory. BUT as good as it is, that fear will always live somewhere in my gut and my heart, not just for him, but for everyone I love.