Five months ago, the life I knew left me, along with my son. He was the most beautiful, infectious, consistently warm, kind, pleasant person, and he was a genuine friend who cared. He should not have died. It was a bad day, things fell through, and he was alone. No one would have thought this was possible. Later we learned he was self-medicating with marijuana. Reflecting, we know there were signs, individually noticed. We just did not put them together.
I now write a blog to express what I am feeling and experiencing on this new journey. Maybe what I put down into words will resonate with other parents who have lost a child to suicide.
My therapist gives me assignments, ‘so to speak.’ She wants me to do something for myself each week. She gave examples like getting a massage, going to yoga, having lunch with a friend. My good thing each week is to attend a suicide survivors support group.
A brochure came in the mail shortly after my son died. I wondered how did the sender know; did this come from a friend, the funeral home, the police? I put the envelope away in a box for over two months. Then one day I pulled it out. My current therapist was no longer meeting my needs, and I was looking for someone who dealt with suicide. The support organization included referral services. It turned out, the referral was not a good fit for me, but through it, I learned of other services–ongoing services that connected me with others just like myself.
At first, I was not ready to hear other people’s stories. They were so vivid and traumatic. I soon got past that and realized I needed this group because they were like me. No one really understands unless one is in the same situation. I now go almost every week as a part of my therapy. People are in different stages of their journey. For some it has been years since they lost their loved one, others less than a year. Listening and sharing with others regardless of their stage is helpful.
I learned from them I am not crazy for feeling the way I do at the different stages. They have given me permission to say, “no” to certain obligations that really do not matter in the big picture, because I just am not ready. They ask, “How was your week?” and, “Do you have any milestones or events coming up that may be difficult?”
I am sharing my support group resource with you. If you are affected by the loss of someone to suicide, whether a friend or family member, think about finding a support group for yourself or a loved one.
Another thing I appreciate is that I, too, can be there for someone else, even, at a time when I wonder why I should get out of bed.
I know this is life changing, losing my son, and I will never be the same, but, one day, I will learn how to live in this new life, just like others have in my support group.
I am sharing my support group resource with you. If you are affected by the loss of someone to suicide, whether a friend or family member, think about finding a support group for yourself or a loved one.
I look for signs he is still with me
I am trying to come to terms that my son will no longer be with me, on earth, for the rest of my life on earth. It is the most painful realization that I wake up to each morning. I want to believe he is still with me, just not in the same way. I talk out loud to him when I am by myself. I keep looking for signs that he is with me.
Last night I sat outside on the patio before bed. It was dark outside and peaceful. There was enough wind to keep the mosquitoes at bay. I looked up to the stars, and I asked my son to give me a sign he is with me.
I went to the cemetery the other day to water the new grass growing over my son’s gravesite. I periodically do this, particularly when there is a dry spell. He is buried next to a friend who died from cancer a little more than two and half years prior. After my son’s grass came in, I noticed that his friend’s grass was comprised of crabgrass, not the nice bluegrass, next door. Fall is the best time to plant grass, the experts say, so the next time I went out, I packed my SUV with a rake, organic topsoil, and grass seed. My watering has now expanded to both sites.
His friend is in the Iranian part of the cemetery, so that is where my son is buried. An older couple, husband and wife, were at the cemetery, placing red roses on several graves and a bouquet of roses in a vase on one in particular. They took pictures and said prayers.
I watched their ritual from the corner of my eye, hoping not to invade their privacy, as I filled my watering can and went back and forth from the water spicketthat is located 50 feet away. Later, after sharing this story, I got the idea that I should just bring a hose and hook it up to water spicket. Watering would go a lot faster. I bet the caretaker has never seen anyone bring their own hose before, let alone a watering can.
The wife walked over to me and asked which grave I was there for. She placed a red rose on my son’s site. I was so overwhelmed by that gesture. She knew his friend and wanted to know my son’s story. She hugged me and then went back to her husband. On the way back to their car, they stopped over and offered me halva1, which is an Iranian tradition to share. I remembered this dessert; they shared it at his friend’s internment.
I realized this was the first time, after his funeral, and outside of mental health professionals, that I had to share how he died. I said he died by accidental suicide. He was having a drug-induced psychotic episode, from ingested street marijuana, and could not tell what real or a hallucination. I said it straight-faced, as I believe this to be true. I do not think he intended to take his life that day.
I know my son is with his friend, and I think they were watching over me, wanting me to be comforted, while I was at the cemetery.
The wife said it was the first anniversary of her mother’s death. She then spoke in Farsi to her husband; I assume telling him how my son died, and her husband said to me, “We will all meet again with our loved ones. The pain we have, until then, will never go away; we just have to learn how to live with the pain until then.” They then hugged me goodbye, and I thanked them again for their kindness.
After they left, I walked over to her mother’s marker. The anniversary of her mother’s death was really the following day.
We can make up whatever we want in our minds, but I know my son is with his friend, and I think they were watching over me, wanting me to be comforted, while I was at the cemetery.
Last night I sat outside on the patio before bed. It was dark outside and peaceful. There was enough wind to keep the mosquitoes at bay. I looked up to the stars, and I asked my son to give me a sign he is with me.
It is now Friday morning. I want to go back to the cemetery to water their grass seed before it gets too hot and before I had my nails done. I infrequently have my nails painted, but I wanted them to look nice before attending a family wedding the following day. My husband was slow leaving the house, and I usually start my day after he leaves. I did not want to have to explain to him what I was doing putting a hose and a watering can in the back of my car; so, I left the house a little later than planned.
Was this a coincidence? You see, I need my cousin. She brings me comfort, makes me laugh, and she gets it. I think that was the sign from my son, that he is with me, and trying to help me get through this.
I had just started my watering routine, and a car pulled up next to mine. I park in a “No-Parking” spot in front of the service road entrance, so I thought it was odd a car pulled up next to mine. My dear cousin, from the East Coast, and her husband, got out of the car. I could not believe it. I knew they had flown into town the day before, escaping Hurricane Florence, to attend the wedding, but we had not arranged to see each other until Saturday. They have another family in town, so they were spending time with them beforehand.
My cousin’s father-in-law lives within several miles of the cemetery. They had gone for coffee, and they were headed to visit his brother who had just driven in from out of town. My cousin came for our son’s funeral, last March, but her husband was not able to attend. She thought the cemetery was somewhere in the neighborhood but did not recall the directions, so she was going by memory. The cemetery is easy to drive past because it is in a large woodland area. Passing it by, they did a quick u-turn, to drive back to it. They could not believe it, driving to where they thought my son was, to see me, standing there. My son still does not have a marker, but that is a whole other story, so they needed me there to find his grave.
Was this a coincidence? You see, I need my cousin. She brings me comfort, makes me laugh, and she gets it. I think that was the sign from my son, that he is with me, and trying to help me get through this.
My daughter was in town that Friday night with her architecture class on an architecture tour. We met her downtown for dinner, at a restaurant I always wanted to try. It is in the eclectic warehouse district and the top tier of restaurants within our state.
My son would have joined us. He loved eating out at good restaurants and getting dressed up. We then went for coffee and dessert at a dessert kitchen. It was a nice night out as we walked back to our car. There was live music playing overhead, perhaps coming from a concert venue nearby. The song playing was, “Can’t Stop the Feeling!“ (Timberlake, Martin, Shellback, 2016). There is history with my son and this song. While working at a camp in PA, he created a dance move and choreographed a dance routine to this song, for a performance by the camp “non-bunk” staff.
It could very well be a coincidence, or it could him, arranging for us to be walking past while the song was playing, giving us a sense of his presence.
For his fellow staff members, his father, sister, and me, this song will forever remind us of him. It is a famous song, so it could very well be a coincidence, or it could him, arranging for us to be walking past while the song was playing, giving us a sense of his presence. My daughter and I danced on the sidewalk while it played.
The camp has found a couple of clips from the choreographed dance; one of the group, and a second performing a move from the movie, Dirty Dancing.
I want to thank all of those who keep sharing stories and thoughts with me, about my son, even if they are just text messages. Each is so meaningful, telling me how he shared his life with you, little details, perhaps intimate things he shared. Please take the time to do this. Telling me what you miss about him, what you remember; share pictures and videos as you find them. My son had many friends and acquaintances. I also want to thank those of you who have introduced yourself to me and shared about yourself. You are now part of our lives: his father’s, sister’s, and mine.
1. “Persian Halva is a sweet, dense paste made of flour and butter, mixed with a syrup of sugar, saffron, rosewater, and cardamom that gives it a pleasant taste and smell. In Iran it is usually served at funerals or during Ramadan(fasting) month, garnished with shredded coconut or slivered almonds. Marzie, and Lilly. “Persian Halva.” The Persian Pot, 20 Sept. 2016, <www.thepersianpot.com/recipe/persian-halva/>.
He did not intend to die that day. I believe that in my heart, brain, and every part of my being.
“I did not mean it. I did not mean it. I did not mean it.”
“I am really sorry. I do not know why this happened.”
“I felt like there was a shift in my brain, like an opioid experience. Like there was something more in the drugs (street marijuana). It should not have happened like that. There had to have been something else in the drugs. There was a chemistry change in my brain. It was like an out of body experience, like a dream state; I was watching myself, going through the motions, but I had no emotion tied to it.”
“I was really tired. It was not an intentional suicide. I was not in the correct state of mind, but like in a catatonic dream. I do not know how this happened.”
In researching about marijuana, I also came across information where it can lead to a psychosis state. I think this is what my son was in, not knowing what he was doing was real.
He did not intend to die that day. I believe that in my heart, brain, and every part of my being. He had made plans with a friend, earlier on the phone, to meet the following week. He was making other long-term plans for attending an upcoming wedding and finding a new place to live. His apartment was clean. There were fresh towels in the bathroom. He had eaten the groceries we bought the week before together. He was watching YouTube videos earlier in the day. He had spoken to another friend, earlier, stating he felt anxious and thought it was the brownie (laced with street marijuana).
In researching about marijuana, I also came across information where it can lead to a psychosis state. I think this is what my son was in, not knowing what he was doing was real.
[Psychosis state is a condition that affects the mind, where there has been some loss of contact with reality. A person’s thoughts and perceptions are disturbed and the individual may have difficulty understanding what is real and what is not. Symptoms of psychosis include delusions (false beliefs) and hallucinations (seeing or hearing things that others do not see or hear). Other symptoms include incoherent or nonsense speech, and behavior that is inappropriate for the situation. A person in a psychotic episode may also experience depression, anxiety, sleep problems, social withdrawal, lack of motivation and difficulty functioning overall (National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), n.d.)].
"I've done a lot of drugs in my life. The most negative drug experiences I've ever had in my life are from weed edibles."
I have heard about these psychosis stories, reading them on Youtube posts and second hand, from those who experienced them. The actor Seth Rogan, shared in an interview with Howard Stern, the risks with edibles. Rogan said, “They are a crapshoot.” Snoop Dogg told him he does not use edibles as there is not an off button. Rogen further said, “I’ve done a lot of drugs in my life. The most negative drug experiences I’ve ever had in my life are from weed edibles.” He shared the risks of taking one bite too many from a gummy bear. Drug manufacturers continue to test the drug dosage in their manufacturing process so no dose is too strong. This controlled environment is not present in the home kitchen, causing a risk of the higher dosage. I have attached a link to the Seth Rogan interview posted on YouTube (Howard Stern Show, Jun 23, 2017).
I do not think these experiences are myths. Research tells us these are real. Psychosis may be a symptom of a mentalillness, most commonly schizophrenia, but can occur from other causes, which I think was applicable to my son, “…Such as sleep deprivation, certain prescription medications, and the abuse of alcohol or other drugs, such as marijuana, can cause psychotic symptoms (NIMD, n.d.).”
I also found through research that certain people are more vulnerable to psychotic states from marijuana, not tied to a mentalillness, especially at high doses. From viewing his phone, I know he bought 2 ounces of marijuana (which is a gallon size zip lock bag). I have read 2 ounces is much more than an average casual smoker will possess at any given time. They baked a large amount of it into the brownies.
[Marijuana can produce an acute psychotic reaction in non-schizophrenic people who use marijuana, especially at high doses, which fades as the drug wears off. (National Institute of Drug Abuse (NIDA), 2018, June 25).
One of his friends said that marijuana was only a social thing for them. For this time too, the intent was social. They divided up the brownies the night before. They said he was in good spirits. He seemed no different.
One of his friends said that marijuana was only a social thing for them. For this time too, the intent was social. They divided up the brownies the night before. They said he was in good spirits. He seemed no different.
His friends shared, they did not experience side effects from the brownies, but I have read that the effects can be different, and it depends on the frequency of use. One friend shared my son was smoking marijuana more frequently. He might have smoked and ingested the day leading up. We will not know how much was in his system because the corner does not test for marijuana, as it stays in the system for weeks, so they cannot tell if it was a contributing factor.
[The strongest evidence to date concerns links between marijuana use and substance use disorders and between marijuana use and psychiatric disorders in those with a preexisting genetic or other vulnerability. Recent research has found that people who use marijuana and carry a specific variant of the AKT1 gene, which codes for an enzyme that affects dopamine signaling in the striatum, are at increased risk of developing psychosis. The striatum is an area of the brain that becomes activated and flooded with dopamine when certain stimuli are present. One study found that the risk of psychosis among those with this variant was seven times higher for those who used marijuana daily compared with those who used it infrequently or used none at all. (NIDA, 2018, June 25).
Dr. Jennifer Ashton, ABC News Chief Medical Correspondent (Twitter @DrJAshton), spoke today on the morning news, about a spike in marijuana use for college age, young adults, the highest use in three decades. In my son’s case, I know street marijuana is not a safe drug. There can be unknown additives to the drugs and by ingesting it, you can not control the high. It is just dangerous. I lost my son from it.
I know he loves me, his dad, and his sister. I know he is sorry, and I know this was out of his control and therefore, not his fault. We will figure it out; how to get through this, for him to be with us on earth, while he is in his after-life. I just want him to be happy.
Postscript
If you are a naysayer to the belief that marijuana can be addictive, I have attached a reference for you, which states that it can be addictive, and there is a risk of overdose, from the National Institute of Drug Abuse (NIDA), (2018, June 25, Marijuana. Retrieved from <https://www.drugabuse.gov/publications/research-reports/marijuana/marijuana-addictive> on 2018, September 5).
Post Postscript
A year past his death, new findings are coming out the about marijuana and psychosis.
Eighteen months, past my son’s death I found new conversations on social media about the risks of mixing marijuana with chocolate, causing a greater high, which is a risk for psychosis.
REFERENCES
National Institute of Mental Health, n.d., RAISE Questions and Answers, viewed 05 September 2018, Retrieved from <https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/schizophrenia/raise/raise-questions-and-answers.shtml>.
NIDA. (2016, January 11). Hallucinogens. What are hallucinogens?, Retrieved from <https://www.drugabuse.gov/publications/drugfacts/hallucinogens> on 2018, September 5.
NIDA. (2018, June 25). Marijuana. What are marijuana effects?, Retrieved from <https://www.drugabuse.gov/publications/research-reports/marijuana/what-are-marijuana-effects> on 2018, September 5.
NIDA. (2018, June 25). Marijuana. Is there a link between marijuana use and psychiatric disorders?. Retrieved from <https://www.drugabuse.gov/publications/research-reports/marijuana/there-link-between-marijuana-use-psychiatric-disorders> on 2018, September 5
We are having, what is commonly described, as a “big mast year,” which means, there are a lot of acorns in the yard caused by the weather and can be very localized in micro-climates.
We live in a suburb on a wooded lot. When we first moved in, there were many majestic red and white oak trees on and around our property. Many have slowly died from oak wilt. We still have several huge oak trees in our yard, and along the woods. In the Fall, when our two children were small, we would give them buckets to collect the acorns. My husband is a “want to be” botanist and is always collecting native seeds to stratify and plant in the woods that surround our home. Several years, he potted the acorns, in an attempt to grow them; though, resulting in a small success rate as the woodland animals usually ate them. To encourage the collection of the acorns, he would give the children a nominal monetary amount for each acorn they collected; more for those that had started to grow a taproot.
We are having, what is commonly described, as a “big mast year,” which means, there are a lot of acorns in the yard caused by the weather and can be very localized in micro-climates.
There is a slight wind today, and I can hear the acorns drop on the hard surfaces like someone is hammering or banging things around. When the wind blows hard enough, the trees rain acorns.
Oak varieties are my favorite trees. I love sitting under the majestic oak savannah’s. There are a couple of places in the metro area where savannah’s still existed. One of them is near a waterfall in the city. White oaks can reach heights of 150 feet. They take several centuries to reach this height, so when one dies, I have lost a living attachment to history, and a connection to the people that lived in this area before me. The trees in our front and backyard are stately. They have thick, heavy, long-gated branches, that spread over half of our one-acre lot. A leaf from the tree will cover my open hand entirely, and part of my forearm. These trees are hard to find in the nursery at a reasonable size, because they grow so slow, only 12 to 14 inches per year.
There is a slight wind today, and I can hear the acorns drop on the hard surfaces like someone is hammering or banging things around. When the wind blows hard enough, the trees rain acorns.
Now, what should I do with all of the acorns I collected?
I have started collecting them, and now it is like an addiction. I love how the acorns feel in my hands as I roll them around. They are so perfectly “acorn” shaped. My husband and I have talked about creating a meshed-in nursery, to keep the seedlings away from the critters, attempting one more time to see if we can be a “Johnny Appleseed.”
I have probably picked up one-fourth of what has dropped. I really should stop, and do something else. My son would be laughing at me, tellingly me politely, with a smile on his face, “ Mom, do you think you are going overboard, spending this much time collecting the acorns. What are going to do with all of these?”
My reasoning for collecting them is to save them from the blades of the lawnmower. It is hard to mow over the little sprouts of trees popping up all over the yard. Later, I will place them in woods, hidden from the site of the squirrels.
We had another “big mast year” when the kids were little. We had remodeled the house, and the back yard was being landscaped when we took these pictures.
I had this great person, and I failed to protect him. I failed to help him feel good about himself, to help him be successful at whatever he wanted to do; to feel supported. I failed to provide a safe place for him to share his suffering. I failed to see the signs.
I have been attending a suicide survivor support group for nearly four months. During the sessions, I connect with fellow survivors who are living through the grief after a loved one took their own life.
In a recent session, families were asked to share their loved one’s interactions with the behavioral health care system.
We learned that all of our loved ones had some degree of treatment or interaction with the system, including inpatient care. You know their ending; the treatment was unsuccessful.
Their experiences varied, but we were able to draw some conclusions:
- There aren’t enough behavioral health resources.
- Our loved ones were not appropriately diagnosed.
- When loved ones did seek care, providers were unable to emotionally make a connection with them to take treatment seriously.
- Our adult loved ones did not take action to seek or continue treatment on their own accord, after in-patient care. There was no provider follow-up to continue engagement.
- Providers were unable to find the right medication and dosage before time ran out.
- Therapists, psychiatrists, and facility doctors did not provide coordinated care.
- Our loved ones were not taught how to seek treatment during a crisis.
- They were not taught that it is normal and healthy to seek treatment.
- For those over 18, patient privacy laws hinder the family’s ability to interact with their loved one’s health care providers (while still maintaining some privacy).
- None of our loved ones voluntarily dialed 911, called a suicide hotline, or called their therapist.
- And of course, navigating the healthcare system is just foreign and cumbersome for young adults.
I had this great person, and I failed to protect him. I failed to help him feel good about himself, to help him be successful at whatever he wanted to do; to feel supported. I failed to provide a safe place for him to share his suffering. I failed to see the signs. Of the signs I did see, I failed to understand the seriousness of what they meant.
I have written about his before, but it weighs on me every second of every day.
There is a strong link between depressive disorders and suicide.
There was a mental health professional on the radio today who was bringing awareness to suicide prevention. He said there is a strong link between depressive disorders and suicide. He said that depression can come from a chemical imbalance between serotonin [ser’ a toe’ nin] and norepinephrine [nor-eh’-pin-ef’-rin]. That did not mean much to me, so I did some research. My master’s degree should be good for something; having taught me how to research and to write (though professionals may find the latter debatable). I am not a medical professional, so you may want to do your own research, but this what I found:
“Serotonin [ser’ a toe’ nin] is widely known for playing a major part in regulating moods. It has been called the body’s natural “feel-good” chemical because it’s involved in your sense of well-being. However, that’s only true when your serotonin level is within the normal range.” (Salters-Pedneault, Kristalyn P, 2018).
“Norepinephrine [nor-eh’-pin-ef’-rin] is a stress hormone. It’s mainly stored in the neurons (nerve cells) of the sympathetic nervous system with small amounts also stored in the adrenal tissue, which lay on top of your kidneys. As a hormone, norepinephrine is released into the bloodstream by the adrenal glands and works alongside adrenaline (also known as epinephrine) to give the body sudden energy in times of stress, known as the “fight or flight” response. As a neurotransmitter, norepinephrine passes nerve impulses from one neuron to the next.” (Purse, Marica, 2018).
“An imbalance of these two chemicals can lead to the person not understanding the options available to help them relieve their suffering. Many people who suffer from depression report feeling as though they’ve lost the ability to imagine a happy future, or remember a happy past. Often they don’t realize they’re suffering from a treatable illness, and seeking help may not even enter their mind. Emotions and even physical pain can become unbearable. They don’t want to die, but it’s the only way they feel their pain will end. It is a truly irrational choice. Suffering from depression is involuntary, just like cancer or diabetes, but it is a treatable illness that can be managed.” (Suicide Awareness Voices of Education, SAVE.org 2018).
There needs to be more research on mental illness and prevention needs to start in the pediatrician's office. There needs to be more education for parents and teachers.
There needs to be more research…on how to detect this chemical imbalance in the primary care doctor’s office. When you go in for your annual physical, medical providers should be able to detect this imbalance through a simple blood draw.
It should start when our children are in the pediatrician’s office. Parents and educators who interact with diagnosed children should take seriously all mental health diagnosis.
Parents and educators should be required to know the signs of suicidal ideation. Schools should be staffed with mental health advocates.
My son was smoking and ingesting street marijuana. We know he ingested the “day of.” I have asked my psychiatrist to help me understand what impact marijuana has on the body. My psychiatrist, along with every therapist I have talked to, said it is a drug, and it alters the brain. Street marijuana typically contains synthetics which adds an additional variable.
My question is; does marijuana also contribute to the imbalance in the brain?
My question is; does marijuana also contribute to the imbalance in the brain?
My son was a scholar and sought out information. I came across material on marijuana that was in the viewing history of his computer. These videos were neutral towards marijuana, but for obvious reasons, I grasped onto specific findings. I have summarized what I think is relevant to my son’s situation.
“Ingesting marijuana binds to receptors in your brain, making them continually fire and causes your imagination, thoughts, and perceptions to magnify, making every thought and feeling, feel like a significant one. Smoking marijuana has effects within minutes and lasts for two to three hours. Heating up marijuana in oil and digesting it delays the effect as it first needs to metastasize through the liver. It can last four to eight hours and adds an additional compound not found in smoking that increases its potency and lasts longer. It takes one to two hours to feel the effects and it is harder to control the intensity of the high, ending up higher than you intended to.” (AsapSCIENCE, 2017).
I read the comments posted on this video, which included people discussing their own experiences. Some users said, “When they ingested marijuana, they experienced hallucinations.” I think the experience can vary by the person based on their brain composition, how much they ingest, and other compounds found in the drug.
A second video my son watched said this about marijuana and mental health:
“There is moderate evidence, for people with mental health issues, it worsens symptoms, cognitive performance, and suicidal ideation and attempts.” (Healthcare Triage, 2017).
Some say marijuana is just for social gatherings or “fun”. It may have started that way for my son, but according to the medical community, if you have a mental illness (e.g. depression, anxiety, ADD/ADHD) it hasnegative consequences.
At my request, the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) gave me resources on marijuana and suicide. One of the medical journals reported on a study which found that “early and frequent use of cannabis is associated with the major depressive disorder (MDD) as well as suicidal thoughts and behaviors, a large twin study suggests.” (Yasgur Swift Batya, 2017).
- Marijuana worsens the ability to conduct executive functioning (to organize cognitive processes like planning ahead, prioritizing, stopping and starting activities, shifting from one activity to another and monitoring one’s own behavior).
- It also hampers the working memory (the ability to store and manage information for a short period of time).
- Frequent use of marijuana can also lead to not caring about things that are important, such as school or work. Kids and young adults using marijuana are less likely to keep up with their medication.
- Marijuana for some can increase anxiety, including paranoia. Street marijuana is usually stronger than medical marijuana as it may contain other chemicals.
- People with attention deficit disorder or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADD/ADHD) are 2.5 times more likely to develop a substance abuse problem. (understood.org 2018)
Some say marijuana is just for social gatherings or “fun”. It may have started that way for my son, but according to the medical community, if you have a mental illness (e.g. depression, anxiety, ADD/ADHD) it has negative consequences.
I found these statistics on SAVE.org 2018 about suicide:
- Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the US for all ages. (CDC)
- Every day, approximately 105 Americans die by suicide. (CDC)
- There is one death by suicide in the US every 12 minutes. (CDC)
- Depression affects 20-25% of Americans ages 18+ in a given year. (CDC)
- Suicide takes the lives of over 38,000 Americans every year. (CDC)
- Only half of all Americans experiencing an episode of major depression receive treatment. (NAMI)
- 80% – 90% of people that seek treatment for depression are treated successfully using therapy and/or medication. (TAPS study)
- There is one suicide for every estimated 25 suicide attempts. (CDC)
- These statistics have led the medical community to call the cause of death by suicide a “crisis.” I never thought it (suicide in my family) would happen to us. Don’t be afraid to talk. Be there for someone else. Learn the signs. Help remove the stigma.
Share what you think. What has been your experience? Leave a comment at the end of this post.
To honor my son, his sister, father, and I will be walking to raise money for NAMI, Team Willpower! We would be honored if you joined us in whatever way you feel comfortable.
REFERENCES
AsapSCIENCE (2017, March 23). Our Brain on Edible Marijuana, video recording, YouTube, viewed 20 August 2018, <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pUhJnKKQDTE>.
Healthcare Triage, What We Know About Pot in 2017 (2017, February 13), video recording, YouTube, viewed 21 August,2018, <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yewlM8CtbQU&t=345s>.
Purse, Marica (updated 2018, May 03). What is Norepinephrine’s Role in Treating Mood Problems?. verywellmind.com 2018, viewed 21 August 2018, Retrieved from <https://www.verywellmind.com/norepinephrine-380039>.
Salters-Pedneault, Kristalyn P, (updated 2018, July 9). How Serotonin Regulates Different Body Functions, verywellmind.com 2018, Retrieved from <https://www.verywellmind.com/what-is-serotonin-425327>.
Suicide Awareness Voices of Education (SAVE.org) 2018, Depression, viewed 21 August,2018, Retrieved from <https://save.org/about-suicide/mental-illness-and-suicide/depression/>.
Suicide Awareness Voices of Education (SAVE.org) 2018, Suicide Statistics and Facts, viewed 21 August 2018. Retrieved from <https://save.org/about-suicide/suicide-facts/>.
The Understood Team, understood.org 2018, Experts Weigh In: Marijuana and ADHD, viewed 21 August 2018. Retrieved from <https://www.understood.org/en/learning-attention-issues/child-learning-disabilities/add-adhd/marijuana-and-adhd>.
Yasgur Swift Batya, MA, LSW, (July 31, 2017). Heavy Cannabis Use Associated With Depression, Suicidality. Medscape 2017, viewed 21 August 2018. Retrieved from < https://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/883614?src=soc_fb_share>.
I do not expect everyone I encounter to know the month and the date of the day my son died. After all, he is my son, not theirs. But if you do want to know, he died March 9, 2018.
Parents in my suicide support group had shared stories of when they encountered an “out of the blue” emotional breakdown, usually triggered by something: a song they heard, a story someone shared, a place they drove past. I recently encountered one. If you ever face someone in one, I want you to know. It was nothing you did. They just happen.
My daughter and I recently went on an escape trip to visit with cousins at a lake house. My husband was not able to join us, but he would have loved it because there was lots of golf and boating. I do not play golf, but he does. And there was dancing. Dancing in the kitchen while cooking dinner and on the boat with the sun setting and the moon rising. My son would have loved this. We honored him by dancing.
It was the first time I remember laughing since my son died. It was a wonderful escape; I love the cousins all dearly. My daughter is so insightful. She told me she enjoys them because they do not shy away from the tough conversations. They share, they ask, they listen, they cry, they love. They are family. We are so lucky.
One evening they were sharing campfire stories. My cousins shared a serious story that happened a couple of years ago to them. They can laugh about it now, so the tale included funny undertones that made it enjoyable to hear. But it was a serious story involving a rattlesnake, embedded cactus needles, injured body parts, and hospitalization. The story deserved attention. The date it occurred was March 9. They remembered the date well enough to share it in the story.
I froze, my mind stopped. I could not focus anymore on the story. I was in a tunnel. I thought about stopping the story and saying, “That is the day my son died.” I could not speak. As they went on telling the story, I thought, “No, this story deserves to be told. My sharing, ‘This is the month and day my son died,’ would ruin it.” I then had to decide what to do. I could not speak, I could not listen, I could not move.
When I forced my mind out of the tunnel, I got up. As I was walking out to escape, I saw my daughter, conversing with someone nearby. I listened in on her conversation long enough to gain composure so I could return to the group, say good night, leave politely, and avoid spoiling the mood of the evening.
I do not expect everyone I encounter to know the month and the date of the day my son died. After all, he is my son, not theirs. But if you do want to know, he died March 9, 2018. We do not know the time. You would think over time, I would only remember his birthday, but I can remember the date my mom died before I remember her birthday, and that was thirty years ago.
I will never know for sure why my son chose to leave us because he is the only one who can tell me. Even so, I still want to try to understand. For those who knew him, they may find understanding helpful in their healing process. I do not know what it provides for me to write down what I think I know and understand. Perhaps writing it down stops my brain from continually spinning.
He did not share his diagnosis widely with his friends. I assume he did not want to be different, or maybe guys do not share that kind of personal information.
My son was diagnosed with attention deficit disorder (ADD)/attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) when he was in the second grade. ADD/ADHD is a neurodevelopment disorder that comes with inattention, distractibility, and can be accompanied by hyperactivity and impulsivity. It affects 2%-12% of all children, and for 40%-60% of those affected children, it continues into adulthood. It can be linked to addictive behavior, greater use of alcohol and marijuana, anti-social personality disorder, and high risk of self-injury behaviors (Balazs, J. and A. Kereszteny, 2017). He did not share his diagnosis widely with his friends. I assume he did not want to be different, or maybe guys do not share that kind of personal information.
Two symptoms of ADD are the inability to follow through and avoidance of tasks that require mental effort, so he rarely would follow-through on seeking mental health services.
My son’s second-grade teacher suggested he be evaluated for ADD/ADHD because of the symptoms he displayed in class. He was such a happy boy, full of interests, talkative, caring, but he could not focus. Looking back, my husband and I see there were signs while he was in the first grade. He and his best friend were in the same classroom together. His friend was a lot like him, happy, full of energy, bouncing off the walls. They played hockey together, snowboarded, played T-ball. Every day a note came home from his teacher that he had been given a strike for misbehaving. Five strikes in a week brought us the luxury of talking to his teacher. At first, we just thought the notes were the consequence of young boys being boys. We are thankful for his second-grade teacher who figured out the cause of this behavior.
Our son went through a series of medications for ADD/ADHD. He did not like how they made him feel. He could not sleep. He would lay in bed, awake for hours, thinking of stories. He would sometimes draw them out in cartoons while under the glow of a flashlight. The medication made him more emotional. When he reached high school, we never forced him to take his medication because he hated how it made him feel, less in control. As a secondary illness, he would get migraines. I think stress was the cause. He would need a day of sleeping to overcome a migraine once he could get the migraine medication to stay down. At its worst, the occurrence of migraines was weekly. Later, when he was finishing up high school, he educated himself on ADD and wished we would have forced him to take medication.
When our son turned eighteen, his pediatrician moved to a hospital position, and we needed to find a new primary care doctor. His pediatrician never referred us to other mental health professionals, and I did not think to ask. We were on our own to find one. When he started college, we needed to locate a psychiatrist near the out-of-state university he was attending. Even though I found one, I could not schedule appointments on his behalf for privacy reasons. Two symptoms of ADD are the inability to follow through and avoidance of tasks that require mental effort, so he rarely would follow-through on seeking mental health services.
He had these bursts of greatness, and he enjoyed learning, but his ADD made it hard to manage everything required of a high school and college student.
My son was smart. He was good at math, completing high school math up through Advanced Placement (AP) calculus. He started college with credits for AP macro-economics. In his second year in college, he took an architecture class. Each person in the class had to design and build a hanging bridge out of popsicle sticks. He spent many late nights making the bridge in his dorm room. I remember him telling me it was an engineering effort to carry it across the campus in one piece. The judging was both on style and weight-bearing. The professor tested it based on how many books it could hold. His bridge held the second most number of books in the class. He excelled in his college microeconomics class, receiving accolades from his professor for his ability to grasp the concepts, propelling him into leadership roles on group assignments. My son also was a good writer. He was a sensitive person, thought a lot, and was able to channel his depth of thought into papers for school.
He had these bursts of greatness, and he enjoyed learning, but his ADD made it hard to manage everything required of a high school and college student. We created a 504 Plan (Section 504 of the Vocational Rehabilitation Act of 1973) with his high school and college, but he was on his own to ask each teacher/professor for accommodations, for example, asking for a mentor to help his manage deadlines. The 504 Plan does not require the teachers to be proactive in helping the student. One teacher told me, “I just cannot offer one to one help with over 100 students in my classes.” My son had to do it on his own. Young adults want to be like everyone else. They do not want to bring attention to themselves in a peer environment, so he rarely would stand up for himself to obtain needed accommodations. Earlier, I mentioned a symptom of ADD is difficulty following through, so that reality was already stacked up against him, undermining attempts on his part to follow through on using a 504 Plan.
He loved school, he loved learning and was a good writer. He wanted to be an economist, work in the banking industry, move to the British Virgin Islands, and sail. He just struggled to get through college with the symptoms of his ADD/ADHD.
Relationships
I read in research materials that those with ADD/ADHD will have difficulty with relationships, both at home and with friends. My son struggled with this in high school. He was self-aware and articulately wrote in college about how depressed and desperate the lack of friends made him feel when he was sixteen. He wrote about the importance of building relationships with friends. He wrote about his focus on trying to be a good listener and not complaining about his life, his parents, and his obstacles; he understood that complaining made his friends uncomfortable. He focused on how to be a good friend, to go the extra mile for them, and built genuine friendships across the globe. I know this because of the outpouring we have received and the beautiful stories his friends have shared with me.
I discovered he was a good writer, perhaps because he was sensitive and was aware of his feelings.
He never dated much even though he would receive pages and pages of requests each week on Tinder, a social search mobile app enabling users to chat if both are agreeable. Many of his friends are females. He was such a nice guy and good- looking. He just did not like casual dating and the pressure that comes with it. He had one serious girlfriend who broke his heart. I found a journal of letters in his room after they broke up. Reading these letters is when I discovered he was a good writer. I think it is because he was sensitive. We talked about his writing. I am thankful I had a chance to tell him he had a gift for writing. As his mother, it was hard to see him go through that heartache.
He had a his tendency to avoid things that were difficult, like finding a job and dating. He told her he smoked marijuana socially, but it did not impact his executive functioning.
My son’s close friend died two-and-a-half years before him. This friend was wise, non-judgmental, a confidant with whom to share his “secrets.” My son shared his struggles with his friend who dealt with cancer most of his life, practicing to maintain composure. It is hard for a young person to lose a friend at such a young age. It impacted him, and I do not think his friend’s death is anything he ever got over, having spent so many of his developmental years with him in his life.
As an adult in his twenties, he was happier living with friends than at home. In the last year, after moving in with a friend, the parental deal was he had to seek mental health care. He saw a therapist for six months, went to the psychiatrist once, but was not interested in medication. He stopped seeing his therapist once he found a job, and he seemed happy. After my son’s death, his therapist was willing to share some things with me about my son. As with all people who had known my son, she was outwardly upset because he was such a wonderful person. She shared that their discussions center on how to cope with his ADD. They talked about his tendency to avoid things that were difficult, like finding a job and dating. He told her he smoked marijuana socially, but it did not impact his executive functioning. They talked about suicide. He said he never had a plan, never thought about it seriously.
I spoke with his employers. They too were outwardly upset. His last boss cried on the phone when we talked. They each shared beautiful things about my son. “He took his job seriously.” “He went above and beyond,” they told me. “He was so well liked.” “Such a happy person.” He stopped working at his last job, four months before, to look for something he liked better. He was making progress. He was working on his resume, looking for jobs. The week after his death he received notification that he, having passed the exams, had been granted his bartender’s license. He kept his apartment clean. We went grocery shopping. He did social things with friends.
My son was never diagnosed with other correlated mental disorders such as depression, anxiety, or substance abuse.
My therapist directed me to a national resource on mental illness, National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI). Through Twitter I connected with the Minnesota chapter; they have been a useful resource for me to understand what my son had to face. At my request, they have shared relevant information from medical publications.
A high correlation exists between those with ADD/ADHD and other psychiatric disorders. A high correlation, 33%-38%, exists between ADD/ADHD and cannabis abuse/dependence (DeMaria, Peter A. Jr, 2016).
My son was never diagnosed with other correlated mental disorders such as depression, anxiety, or substance abuse, which have well-known risk factors for suicide. He told me he was not that bad off, not like others seeking institutional and outpatient mental health services. I believed him. He did not want to take medicine to function with his ADD/ADHD; he did not like the side effects such as insomnia and anxiety.
I now have learned that young adults with ADD/ADHD and other related disorders may use marijuana as self-medication to relieve their symptoms (DeMaria, Peter A. Jr, 2016). Several friends told me he was smoking marijuana every day (some say it was only social). His dad and I never knew.
I will never know for sure the cause.......
I know everyone from whom he bought (the street marijuana). I know the originator of each of his sources. I know how much he purchased each time.
From what his friends shared with me after his death, he displayed signs of withdrawal and despair that they each individually noticed. It is hard to say if other undiagnosed mental disorders were the primary cause or if the substance abuse reduced his executive functioning and caring, which triggered the despair, and heightened the impulsive tendency that comes with ADD/ADHD.
We are not better off with out him.
I have read stories about those who attempted suicide and survived. Some of the survivors thought, at the time of the attempt, the people in their lives would be better off without them. If my son felt that, I hope where ever he is now, with his friend, my mom, and his aunt and uncle, he can see we are not better off. I wonder if God shields those in their new spiritual place from seeing us grieve because it would be so painful for them to see their loved ones hurting.
I miss him, as do his friends and family. I miss the future life I wanted with my son. His death did not need to happen. His life could have been saved that day. I will forever live with this.
Cited References
Balazs, Judit and A. Kereszteny, Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder and suicide: A systematic review, World J Psychiatry. 2017 Mar 22; 7(1): 44–59.
Published online 2017 Mar 22. doi: 10.5498/wjp.v7.i1.44
<https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5371172/>
DeMaria, Peter A. Jr, Cannabis Use Disorders and ADHD, Journal of Addiction Medicine: January/February 2016 – Volume 10 – Issue 1 – p 70; doi: 10.1097/ADM.0000000000000184
Letters to the Editor <https://journals.lww.com/journaladdictionmedicine/Citation/2016/02000/Cannabis_Use_Disorders_and_ADHD.12.aspx>
Other References
Health Library
<http://www.chadd.org/Understanding-ADHD/For-Parents-Caregivers/Education/Section-504.aspx>
I can no longer care for him in the manner I did before. I now need to figure out how to still be his mom.
Losing the life of my son is life-altering as I miss him, and I also miss my future as a mother – loving and taking care of him as my son. I no longer can care for him in the manner I did before. I no longer can give him a hello hug when I see him and tell him, “I love you” when we say goodbye. I can no longer take him grocery shopping, give him gifts, make him a birthday cake, take him on trips, give him advice, nurture him when he is sick. I can no longer have philosophical and political discussions with him. I can no longer have conversations around the kitchen island with him. There we would share the music we loved and YouTube clips from late night talk shows that made us laugh or sparked a philosophical conversation because they were controversial. I will not be able to celebrate his wedding, help him move into a home, and care for and love his children.
I now need to figure out how to still be his mom.
The strain on Life and Loss-Oriented Grief
It is common for family and friends to expect a “return to normal.” This expectation can cause the grieving family to be cut off from their social circles and become isolated.
Gone with my son is the quality of life I had envisioned for his father, his sister, and me, his mother. The realism of this is overwhelming. I have been reading medical literature on grief from the loss of a child. It says that intense grief will last at least four years, with ongoing grief in perpetuity in waves. This is now our future.
The medical literature indicates it is common for family and friends to expect a “return to normal.” This expectation can cause the grieving family to be cut off from their social circles and become isolated. Friends and family feel uncomfortable being around those for whom a “return to normal” is impossible. It is better to acknowledge the loss and grief than to do a “gloss over.” I know this is difficult, but it is so hard sometimes just to chit-chat like nothing has happened, especially during a prolonged conversation, like at a sit-down dinner. My son and my grief over his loss consume my life, and I cannot think or experience much else at this time.
Among the secondary mental health risks for the grieving family are long-term depression, anxiety, plus physical health symptoms such as headaches, stomach aches, neck and backaches, and other body pains. All of which may occur from carrying the burden of grief. It appears I am not alone here in experiencing these symptoms.
I do not want to work through this. He deserves to have me feel this grief and guilt.
In one of my earlier blogs, I wrote about guilt, the feeling we failed to protect our child. Research indicates this is a common experience for the parents who have lost a child. It is not unique to me, not something I alone am working through. This is common, and this is what I feel. I do not want to work through these feelings; I want to live with them, experience them, because I love him, and he deserves to have us feel this grief and guilt.
Coping with the Spiritual Loss - Stories of His Life
I also want to keep him current in the lives of his family and friends. I am trying to figure out how to still care for him in this new future.
While dealing with my loss-oriented grief, I also want to keep him current in the lives of his family and friends. I am trying to figure out how to still care for him in this new future. I have read this is common, that it helps us as parents to retain our identity as parents of one loved and lost. I continually place fresh flowers at his grave site, splitting the bouquet with his friend who lies right next to him. I have printed every picture I can find of our son and placed each one in an album. His room is still like it was when he lived at home the year prior. I cannot give anything away.
I have been writing. I write to my son almost every day. At first, I was trying to figure out why; to learn and to understand him, to document his last days in a dialogue format. Now I mostly share what I miss. I write stories of my memory of him. I have read that keeping these memories alive provides a spiritual connection, maintains a continuous bond that honors him.
There are hundreds of pictures on Facebook of his time with his friends. They were his world as he grew older. Go through the pictures you have of him. There is a story. There are stories where there are no pictures. I have asked friends, coaches, employers, and extended family to write stories of their time with him. Some have, and they are beautiful.
Surely, dear family and friends, there are more…
I want to know the things he said, the things you did together, the times that made you love him. The stories can be big or small, funny or meaningfully deep, from the time when he was little, or more recent. Write them as you think of him. Share small pieces at a time. Please do this sharing now, so we can connect and experience him in your world before you move on in your life and further away from your time with him.
I am not implying that you will forget my son and your memories. This request is about sharing that you miss him and how and why you are struggling, and for what you are longing. This tells me you loved him too. Your remembrances are a way to connect us that we will have for the rest of our lives. Your stories will settle deep within our souls. And, you will receive love and appreciation back from us, your readers.
I have shared my contact information on my Facebook posts with links (look through my timeline or my son’s). You can contact me through the Contact tab on my blog or in the comments section of any post.
Introduction
My primary intent for writing this blog, at present, is to share the bereavement journey of a parent who lost a child, and who lost a child to suicide. My purpose is to make a connection with those in similar situations. For them to realize they are not alone feeling and experiencing this new world they have been given. It also is to inform those in our world what we are experiencing.
I want to feel the emotions I reference in this blog out of respect for my son. I love him.
The intent is not to “work through” anything. My son is no longer with us. His death is final. There is nothing to work though. I want to feel the emotions I reference in this blog out of respect for my son. I love him. He deserves that I feel these emotions: grief, guilt, and many other emotions. Please read on.
Chronic Sorrow
I went through several therapists before I found the right one, but each of them agrees with the authors of the article, “When Sorrow Never Stops” (Lightfoot & Stricklin, 2016) that the death of a child is the most horrendous, severe, and debilitative form of bereavement a person can experience. There is no cure. It is something you learn to live with. My psychiatrist tells me that time helps, but the timetable is different for each person. I attend a survivors’ support group, and the majority are parents. For some parents, it has been three years since they lost their child. They say living with the loss gets better, but the pain remains. There are still tears when they speak of their children.
My devastation is two-fold: the loss of my son and the loss of my projected future. I will never see my son again.
The medical designation for this kind of grief is “Chronic Sorrow,” a person experiences ongoing despair because of a significant loss. The shortened list of emotions includes sadness, sorrow, despair, guilt, anger, disbelief, pain, and anxiety. The chronic sorrow is intertwined with brief events of happiness within the more extended periods of grief and suffering that has no end in sight. This kind of grief is forever (Eakes G. G., M. L. Burke, M. A. Hainsworth, 1998).
My devastation is two-fold: the loss of my son and the loss of my projected future. I will never see my son again. I will never have any new experiences with him, feel his touch, hear him laugh or talk. I will never again see his beautiful face, see him happy doing the things he loved. I will never see him mature beyond his young age of 23.
I lost my hopes and dreams: what I envisioned for my remaining life. In a 2009 article, (Ronen, R., W. Packman, N. P. Field, B. Davies, R. Kramer, J.K. Long) write that parents of a lost child feel like a portion of themselves has died as well. I had two children, and one is gone. There is a hole that cannot be filled.
Someone told me that my son would want me to move on. Even if I get out of bed, go to work, have new experiences, they will never be with him. I will never again get to see my two children experiencing life together. Simple things like him teaching her how to drive the boat. Dancing together at weddings. Going to Broadway shows together. Walking through museums, the two of them teasing each other, making up stories on the meaning of the art. Walking through the streets of New York City, shopping, helping each other choose a pair of celebrity brand sunglasses. Experiencing eating at memorable places together.
I now see my life as two: the life before he died and the life after. I will never get the life I envisioned. That life is gone forever.
We four talked about the family trips we wanted to take together. He was to help me plan our winter holiday trip to Hawaii. We talked about Europe, renting a high-end car and driving the iconic roadways that were highlighted in the BBC show Top Gear. He even found a villa to rent. I will never get to see him have a family and bring them into ours. Our lives will now just consist of my daughter and her future. I feel sadness for my daughter as her future life is forever changed.
I now see my life as two: the life before he died and the life after. I will never get the life I envisioned. That life is gone forever.
I would like to escape, run away, change my life, in the hope that the pain will go away. I know I cannot do that; I have a daughter who needs me.
It is challenging to envision going back to the routine I had before. I have yet to set my foot back into the gym or do any form of exercise. I previously loved to cook and entertain; many times, with or for my children. Those days are gone. Holidays will be unbearable and going back to the holiday routine, without him there, will be excruciating. I would like to escape, run away, change my life, in the hope that the pain will go away. I know I cannot do that; I have a daughter who needs me to resume traditional activities, to provide her with some consistency. I live my life for her.
I had asked my therapist for literature on the grief of a child, so those in my world could understand what I am going through. This grief of chronic sorrow is both physical pain and emotional pain that will never go away (Arnold & Gemma, 2008). My dad told me he thought he was doing fine; then he read one of my blog posts, and it brought back his pain. I told him that the pain would be a “forever” as is learning how to cope with it as an ongoing journey. There will be periods of excruciating agony. He let out a sigh and said, “Yes.” It is about coping. He lost his wife, my mom when she was fifty-one. Each person must find their coping mechanisms.
For me, it is not my faith. I feel God betrayed me, and I have great anger projected in that direction. Those in our circle try to push their faith on me. I respect their choice to go to their faith. It just is not for me. I am not alone in this. One article states, ”God often becomes the target of choice for anger” (Triplett, 2010). I have found writing down my thoughts is a way to release my built-up emotions. I write to my son almost every day, letting him know how much I miss him, what I have learned about his life, how sorry I am for everything, intertwined with my memories of the way we were.
If you wish to walk a little way with me on my bereavement journey, the thing that you can do is not being judgmental. Be a listener. Ask deeper questions beyond, “How are you?” I will never answer anything but “Fine.” to that question. Talk about my son. Share what you are missing about him. Verbalize your grief. Do not wait for me to reach out to you to ask for anything. I rarely will call you first.
I am thankful for those in the suicide survivors’ loss support group. Going there once a week is the thing I do for myself. It helps to be with people like me. It also helps to be with our other friends who have lost a child. I am so thankful they have extended their friendship to my husband, daughter, and me.
I am also thankful for my friends and extended family who call me, text me, and listen to me.
References
Arnold, J. and P. B. Gemma P. (2008). The continuing process of parental grief. Death Studies, 32(7), 658–673. doi:10.1080/07481180802215718
Eakes, G. G., M. L. Burke, M.A. Hainsworth M. (1998). Middle-range theory of chronic sorrow. Image: The Journal of Nursing Scholarship, 30(2), 179–184.
Lightfoot, C. and S. Stricklin, (2016). When Sorrow Never Stops, from the Journal of Christian Nursing: January/March 2016 – Volume 33 – Issue 1 – p 22–29. Web Site: https://journals.lww.com/journalofchristiannursing/Fulltext/2016/01000/When_Sorrow_Never_Stops.10.aspx
Ronen R., W, Packman, N. P. Field, B. Davies, R. Kramer, L.K. Long (2009). The relationship between grief adjustment and continuing bonds for parents who have lost a child. Omega: Journal of Death & Dying, 60(1), 1–31. doi:10.2190/OM.60.1.a
Triplett, W. (2010). The sun will come out tomorrow. Bloomington, IN:Universe.
I am so sorry for being, naïve, for not understanding you; not knowing what was going on with you.”
Every time I visit my son’s grave site I say, “I am sorry.” I used to go every day, and now I go a couple of times a week, but at each time, I say, “I am sorry. I am really, really, sorry.” The reasons may vary as to why I am sorry. It could be something new I have learned or remembered or just “Sorry for being so stupid.” Stupid for not understanding you; not knowing what was going on with you.”
In the last year of my son’s life, I tiptoed around sensitive issues because I did not want to create anxiety for him. I wanted home to be a safe place. I wanted to support him in his decisions. I regret this avoidance because I did not give him an opportunity to share with me his deep feelings and struggles. I know I flubbed things up while he was in high school and college. I was not enough of an advocate to fight the systems, both in the schools and later, when he became an adult, to push him into using the mental health care system. I did not pry enough. I said the wrong things.
We will never know for sure what drove him to it on that day; only he knows. He was never diagnosed with depression or anxiety.
I recall reading that half of the people who do take their lives or attempt to never had signs of mental illness. I trusted my son; he said he never had a plan. He was never that “bad off.” I should have educated myself. I should have encouraged him to keep seeing a therapist. I should have seen one myself to know what he was going through, having Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). I should have been closer to his friends and more engaged. Maybe I would have put two and two together.
After talking with his friends, there were signs: signs of despair and withdrawing. At my request, my therapist has given me information on suicide, mental illness, and the use of drugs. We will never know for sure what drove him to it on that day; only he knows. He was never diagnosed with depression or anxiety.
He was diagnosed with ADD when he was in grade school. A symptom of ADD is impulsivity. Medical literature indicates street drugs (in this case marijuana) and mental illness do not go together. For young adults who frequently use marijuana, it can cause reduced executive functioning (planning, prioritizing, the stop and start of activities), as well as reduced caring, working memory, and follow-through. Marijuana heightens feelings and can cause anxiety and paranoia. Several friends told me he was using it every day, mostly smoked, and, as a fun group activity, baked into brownies.
I have retraced everything I said and did with my son during the months leading up to his death; looking back on what I did and did not do.
The suicide rate is increasing at alarming rates, and recently several celebrities have taken their lives. Death by suicide has surpassed the homicide rate. Because of this, there has been an increase in news coverage on suicide prevention. I recently saw an interview of suicide attempters who survived. One survivor said she thought her family would be better off without her. I wonder if that is the way his father and I made him feel: that he was a burden.
He was living with a friend and always seemed busy, always had plans. His friends were his world, and I felt if he were with them, everything was fine. On that particular day, he had plans, but they fell through. Even with all those friends, I wonder if he felt isolated.
I have retraced everything I said and did with my son during the months leading up to his death; looking back on what I did and did not do.
I failed my son. He was great in spite of me.
The feeling of failure is enormous. I failed my son. One of my son’s friends told me I should not feel that way. He said my son was a great person. He was smart, a forever scholar. He was caring, always showing kindness to others, not judgmental, and inclusive. I should be proud I raised such a great son. My son had friends from all over the world. We were fortunate that he shared their friendships with us, inviting these bright young people into our home and lives. They all recall my son as being so caring, putting others first.
He had a great sense of humor. He had passions for things such as educational podcasts, Minnesota sports teams, especially the Vikings. He loved Marvel movies, political comedians, and entertaining his friends. A gentle, sensitive soul, who appreciated the more exceptional things such as art, Broadway plays, and gourmet food. He was an adventurer and loved music and dancing. He had a great style and was so good looking. Friends lovingly used the word “Hot” in front of his name. He was good with children, worked at a camp in summer and the winter taught them how to ski. He had so much to offer. I feel like he was great, in spite of me.
I blame myself. I want to blame others. I want to blame his daily self-medicating use of marijuana.
I keep going through his pictures, and the beautiful stories friends and families wrote about my son. He was such a wonderful person. He should have lived. I keep saying, “This did not need to happen. His life was a life that should have been saved. It was just one bad day. It was just an impulsive act, and it could have been prevented.”
I blame myself. I want to blame others. I want to blame his daily self-medicating use of marijuana. Therapists tell me this was not my fault. Their words do not matter. Putting aside blame, I still feel great guilt. I will always feel this guilt. His death should not have happened.
By reading my blog, maybe there is an opportunity to help others or yourself.
Many of his friends have met or corresponded with me. I appreciate what they have shared with me. I am sure it was hard for them. If they or their families are reading this, please take in what I have written. Maybe there is an opportunity to help others or yourself.
Please continue to share your stories about my son. They are precious to his father, sister, and me. Thank you for each one.
