It was almost four years ago when my son died. People gathered around. My phone was dinging and the doorbell was ringing. People brought pasta and presents. My heart was broken wide open and all the kings horses and all the kings men showed up to put me together again.
Over the last few months, one of my kiddos has struggled with mental health. The official term is suicidal ideation. Depression. Anxiety. Thoughts of suicide. Followed by the creation of a plan. And then attempts. Yes, attempts. With an s. Hospital visits. Psychiatric assessments. Referrals. Diagnoses. Hospitalization. And finally, treatment. Medication. Therapy.
I love my kiddo and I was determined to respect their process. I asked what they needed. I asked what I could do to help. I was there when they cried. I gave suggestions. I watched my kiddo fall apart. Eventually, I called 911 and we got the help we needed.
Through it all, there were no people or pasta. My heart broke all alone in the dark. I had no idea what to do or where to turn. All the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't put us back together again, because no one knew we were falling apart.
Now if you have been following along the last four years, you know I talk about all the hard stuff. But this was done in silence, mostly. My kiddo did not want me to share with their father or their siblings. My kiddo did not want to talk about it with their friends. My kiddo did not want to go to the hospital or see a counselor. My kiddo was afraid that people would think there was something wrong with their brain, something wrong with them.
Sound like stigma you think?
My kids are the best. They have loving parents. They get good grades. They show up to work. They are polite and respectful. They don't get into trouble. They don't do drugs. There is no history of trauma. They have everything going for them. And they struggle with their mental health.
They do have a family history of mental illness, that nobody wants to talk about.
So here is my public service announcement...
Mental illness is an illness.
Brain chemical imbalances can't be fixed with warm fuzzy thoughts.
People who talk about anxiety, depression, suicide, are not looking for attention.
Suicide is not taking the easy way out.
It is okay to ask for help. It is okay to cry. Man, women, teen or child.
It is okay to take medication.
It is okay to get therapy.
It is okay to ask for what you need.
It is okay to not be okay.
It is okay to talk about not being okay.
I will always encourage you to check on your people. Reach out, send a text, make a call, tell them you love them, have hard conversations. Because if you don't reach out to them, they won't reach for you and you just might lose them, never knowing that they were drowning in the depths of their own pain.
