It's Suicide Prevention Day
Suicide sucks.
Even as I type that, I am apologizing to my mom who reads this blog because she hates that word. Sucks, Yes, she hates suicide, too. But at the moment, I can find no phrase that better expresses the sentiment.
Suicide sucks.
I have lost people to this disease. Yes, disease, Severe and unrelenting mental illness can be fatal. In fact, it is fatal every 40 seconds of every day. (World Health Organization)
Suicide is a lonely act but few acts will leave more devastation. The ripple effect creates waves that can wash away entire families. It is hurtful and it can feel selfish. I say "Seem" because that reflects a healthy mind's response. But in the twisted logic that is chronic depression, the person may feel like they are doing everyone a favor. They are so swollen in pain that they no longer see themselves as useful to the world but rather a burden to those who love them.
As the wife of a disabled Vet, I know this more intimately than most. US Veterans commit suicide at a disproportionate rate - one dying every 65 minutes or 22 a day.
My heart hurts for the loss of my loved ones but it hurts more that they were lost to a disease that was untreated or under treated. The amount of pain they must have been in overwhelms me in thought. So I amend my previous comment.
Mental Illness Sucks.
Just as cancer sucks. Heart disease sucks. Diabetes sucks.
If you are hurting, I offer you my hand. If you cannot take my hand, please take my phone and call 1-800-273-8255 . The Suicide Prevention Hotline is there 24/7. It is a non-judgmental place to seek help or just talk.
It can be scary to admit that something is wrong. I get it. I struggled with PPD before getting help. I was afraid to admit that I wasn't fully in control of myself. Would they think I was a bad mom? Would they take my kids away? I'll be honest, I have had nightmares about being sent to a mental institution since I was a child. Thoughts of white straight jackets and padded cells played through my head like a horror film.
Guess what? None of that happened. Not even close. Instead, my doctor helped me find a way to a prescription that helped me. My family rallied around me and made space for me to get more rest and have less stress.
It got better.
It gets better.
It will get better. If you get help.
