Know that people who have been diagnosed with depression or who have attempted suicide in the past have died by suicide. Know that those who have been seeing a counsellor and taking various medications have also taken their lives. So for those of you who did not know your child was suffering, know that even if you did, you may not have been able to prevent the tragedy.
On the other hand, there are those who have attempted suicide once, twice, or more times that have never attempted it again and live seemingly happy, normal lives (although often aided by medication and/or counselling).
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You must experience the journey in a way that gives you the peace of mind and therapy you require and he or she must do the same. That journey will be completely different for each of you and more often than not, may seem at odds with one another.
For me, it was something as simple as allowing myself to take the time to do something that I loved but rarely did, like attend live soccer matches or watch my favourite teams play on television. I embraced a passion I had my entire life but rarely allowed myself the time to enjoy. That was just a few hours each week but it made a difference.
Within 6 months my wife and I took an unplanned quiet vacation to Jamaica, again, in order to take a breather from everyone and everything. Some thought it odd that we could vacation while mourning our son but it was a necessary kindness we afforded ourselves that helped us along our journey.
My wife and I have experienced our grief differently, yet there is one thing we will agree to: Joining a support group of peers who have experienced the loss of a family member to suicide was one of the best things we could have done.
Your not angry at him, your angry at you. I would encourage you to explore how you feel about yourself as a mother. Start there, and in the back of your mind understand that nothing you could have done would have changed this outcome. It sad and tragic and I feel for you.
Please be strong all!
I did not lose a child but a living brother I helped him for a year 1/2 after he was diagnosed with obsessive rumination disorder & the night he needed me the most he called me at midnight & yelled at him cause I was burnt out & frustrated that was the ok set time I spoke to him
Gail, I am so sad to read your continuous losses. I find strength within your sharing from my recent losses and appreciate you bearing your sadness in this portal. May you find comfort in the simple tasks of life.
My 32 year old daughter committed suicide on Monday, November 30, 2020. She was normal healthy intelligent beautiful girl, masters degree in psychotherapy and yoga therapy and a yoga teacher. Her life was full of love and joy until she started getting some weird ideas about two years ago.
She had a nice condo of her own and a car and stopped taking care of those things. She asked someone to go to her place while during one psychiatric hospitalized to get her slippers and get her drugs to kill herself, and this person broke into her condo and stole her credit cards, social security card, cellphone and car, and knocked the front door down. She no longer even cared.
After that CAT Scan she had 14 hospitalizations for these physical pains often resulting in being transferred to mental institutions where she refused medication and had to be released after 3 to 5 days. She hung herself in her mothers house and her mother rescued her and she was transferred to another institution. Then her mother sent her to a Christian rehab center in Florida where she refused to cooperate. She took a Tylenol overdose and had near liver failure after she was back from that rehab..
I keep asking myself, where did I go wrong? Should I have done something differently? How did I not recognize it enough? (and I am a medical doctor!) Her mom and I are divorced and her mom often did not fill me in on details. My daughter often refused to allow the doctors to talk to me and sometimes not to her mom, and she would switch back and forth between me and her mom in giving permission to talk to the doctors and staff. Sometimes her mother would get her released from the hospital after three or four days and sometimes her mom would not. I am sometimes angry at her mom, and sometimes angry at myself.
The last three weeks there was a good Samaritan fellow she met on Facebook who drove six hours to stay with her to take care of her: shopping and cooking meals. He was about to leave to go back to his family. So I thought there was a possibility something bad could happen, but somehow I never thought it would come to this.
I believe the article above is very insightful and I would recommend reading it several times to really internalise the points the writer makes. I wish I had had this advice many years ago. I also believe that getting as much professional support as you can for as long as you can will help your spirit. There are internet support groups; you may find one that suits you. Sharing can be cathartic and help you to feel less isolated in your grief. There are real life support groups if you are fortunate enough to find one close to you. At the moment, depending where you are, these may be held online. Or you might consider later on establishing a support group yourself. Friends and family who are able to understand and support you are to be treasured.
Believe in the name of god YHWH. Go and see and do everything you love, madly crazily. Like seeing movies, eating anything you love, ride bikes, talking madly with people you love. Feel life like you are billionarie. In only few days you will become normal. Do it if again you are in depression or suicidal.
As terrible as that day was, we go into shock. It protects us to some degree. This October was the one year anniversary that pushed me beyond my breaking point. Especially the night before. The night, if I had known she was gathering pills to kill herself, I could have stopped her. I cried every day. I screamed at people in stores. I have made it through so much loss in my life, and I know I am incredibly strong, but this was as close as I have come to something I really could not bear. She was 19, smart, beautiful, with high hopes and a bright future, and she was pushed beyond what she could bear by the child molester across the street who had been trying to get at her since she was 14. He finally lured her in and destroyed her. Seeing him walking around free, it is salt in the wound. He is the target of my rage. Waiting for karma is exhausting.
In the back of a run-down house in Plant City, officers found a skeletal child, curled on a moldy mattress, covered with maggots and flies. She had nothing on but a swollen diaper. Feces dribbled down her legs.
Later, she described a series of bad breaks that left her widowed, destitute and raising two teenage boys alone. Then, she said, she had a one-night stand and got pregnant. She thinks his name was Bob.
In 1970, in California, a girl that scientists called Genie had been found strapped to a potty chair at age 13. Doctors examined her, as others had the Wolf Boy, who, in 1800, had wandered naked out of the woods near Paris when he was about 12 years old. Neither ever learned to communicate or take care of themselves.
For 10 years, Bernie tried. He and his wife adopted Dani in October 2007 and moved her into their house in Fort Myers. There, Dani lived with their youngest son, Willie, who was just a few months older, who taught her to swim and chew ham.
The Lierows took Dani to the beach, where sunlight bleached her dark hair gold. They taught her to use the toilet. They enrolled her in public school, in special education classes, where she got private speech therapy five days a week. They took her to horseback riding therapy, occupational therapy, church and countless doctors.
Dani grew up with horses, chickens, alpacas and packs of Great Pyrenees puppies. She learned to slip on sneakers, climb into a tree house, fill the bathtub. But she raided the refrigerator regularly, smashing eggs and chugging ketchup.
Diane wanted to put Dani in a nursing home, Bernie said. But he refused. By his account, for the next few years, he took care of Dani mostly by himself. He worked while she was in school, then spent the rest of his time getting Dani showered, dressed, fed.
One night, about two years ago, as Bernie was driving, Dani started thrashing around in the backseat, banging on the windows. An officer pulled him over and asked what kind of drugs he had her on. Was he kidnapping her?
At Stones River National Battlefield, Bernie helped Dani out of the car and sat her at a picnic table. The sprawling park is just down the road from the group home, rimmed by a grove of sweet gum trees.
Three years later, when I saw her again in Tennessee, I was encouraged. She had grown tall and appeared to connect with the horses and puppies on the farm. She could gesture for food, throw and catch a ball. She recognized classmates, who called her their friend.
At Goodwill, they let you play with the toys. Not like Walmart or Toys "R" Us, where everything is sealed in boxes. So after leaving the park, Bernie drove Dani to the thrift store to let her pick out a birthday gift.
She let him guide her past racks of sweaters, crates of DVDs, tables filled with glass vases. At the back of the store, she pulled her hand from his and sprinted to the tall shelves lined with baby toys, where she stood, bouncing on her toes.
Tampa Bay Times reporter Lane DeGregory and Times photographer Lara Cerri met Dani and her dad, Bernie Lierow, at her new group home in Tennessee in September. All of the scenes from that day were witnessed by the journalists. Bernie also was interviewed separately.
His memoir, a seminal autobiographical book about living while dying, was translated into 39 languages and spent 68 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list. Sometimes, even on the same page, it both rips you apart and makes you laugh.
It was shepherded to publication by his wife, Lucy Kalanithi, MD, after he died. A Q&A with Kalanithi -- a clinical assistant professor of primary care and population health at Stanford Medicine -- appears in the latest issue of Stanford Medicine magazine 152ee80cbc
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