Reaching Out

A little over a year ago, I wrote about my anger and hypocrisy surrounding my brother's suicide attempt.  A lot has happened since then, a lot of good things, so it's time I followed up.

It took a little more time, but Joshua decided to pick himself up and live his life. I said "decided" because I believe that life is about either making decisions actively or letting decisions happen to you. He has made some active decisions and he's doing much better. He enrolled in school, he got a job, he moved out, he got rid of some negative influences and best of all, he is succeeding at all of those things and he can say that he did it himself (and hopefully he also acknowledges his God, because he quite literally wouldn't be here without him).

In seeing him start to live his life again, I'm in a much better place. Maybe my feelings about it shouldn't be conditional on his behavior, but the fact is, they just are. I'm proud of him, I can see a future for him now - that was not true a year ago.

In general, my family is in a much better place, but there are still pieces to put back together and there are scars now that weren't there before. None of us will be the same; I don't think that's possible when a life event happens that has the potential to rip a family to shreds. This one nearly did. Some of us have more baggage to sort through and forgiveness is a hard exercise sometimes.

In the months following his overdose, there was a lot of hurt, a lot of anger, discouragement, heartbreak - there was not a lot of support. We didn't do a good job of supporting each other because we were all trying to survive it. Support outside of the family was hard to find because people just don't know how to handle something so devastating; they don't know what to say and they desparately want you to be normal when that is not possible. There was a lot of blame, a lot of judgement and contempt, a lot of intolerance - inside our family and out. Everyone of us was guilty of saying something hurtful, demoralizing, and completely unsupportive.

We went our separate ways to find the support we needed. I happened to discover that a friend was struggling with a similar situation at the same time so I had someone to talk to, to vent my frustrations and check my perspective. That friend gave me an excellent book to read about living with a loved one who suffers from depression. Those conversations went a long way toward helping me find some peace. At the same time, my mother and Bobby (usually referred to here as Grandmother and Papa) found a support group. They went every week for a year until they reached a point with each other and individually that they felt like they could make it from week to week without it. I know how much those meetings helped them because I could feel the weight of tension lifting from their relationship.

Now, now that they (and my brother) are able to talk more freely about what happened and how it impacted them, they feel like they should give something back. They have decided to start a support group in Montevallo. Because I've been so close to it, it's hard for me to distinguish if suicide and suicide attempts are becoming more common or if I just know more people who have been directly affected by it, but whatever the case may be, our small town has been plagued with it. It seems very appropriate that there be a support group for the survivors, the friends and family who are trying to pick up the pieces. I am very proud of my mom and Bobby because they have decided to do something purposeful with their experience to meet a need in our community.

You can read more about the support group here. If you are interested in attending, this is the information.

What: Reaching Out, a support group for loved ones of those

who have committed suicide or attempted to commit suicide

When: Mondays at 7:00 pm (starting January 16th)

Where: Montevallo First Baptist Church

For more info call 665-2573 or 665-2566.

If you or someone you know is in a crisis situation right now, this is the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255.

"He did it again."

I am a hypocrite.


In the last week, I’ve had conversations with two different people during which I was reminding them that holding on to anger just makes you bitter. My heart is full of anger and I have not been able to let it go. I’m not sure if I’ve really tried. I have talked to God about it, but it’s like that old dish rag I just keep taking back from Him and wringing more dirty water out of. Like I think He can’t handle the job.

The truth is, I like being mad. I like to wallow in it and think about all the things I want to say, even when I can feel the bitterness taking over, turning the edges of my soul black. Anger is much easier than hurt, which is what I know will take its place when I finally let it go. So, I keep taking it back and squeezing more out until I’m just tired, but it doesn’t go away. And it doesn’t change anything.

We, my family and I, are rapidly approaching a very upsetting anniversary. The anniversary of a Sunday afternoon when I was snuggled on my couch with a sick child when the phone rang and it was my mother, who greeted me with: “He did it again.” Those are four words that are forever etched in my memory. The “he” was my youngest brother; the “it” was his second suicide attempt. We had only found out a couple of weeks before that his previous accidental overdose was actually his first suicide attempt.

I sat on my couch and cried and screamed for Dave to come upstairs and hold me. All I could think about was how I would explain to Ella that Uncle Joshua died.

He didn’t die. He spent one night in the hospital and was sent home the next day. We still don’t know why they didn’t keep him there. We spent weeks terrified that he would try again. Every time the phone rang, every time we passed an ambulance, I wondered if he had made another attempt. All the drugs in their house were hidden and under lock and key. We were cutting meat with butter knives because the sharp ones were put away somewhere. He was under 24 hour supervision. Suicide watch. Weeks turned to months and the security slacked up, as my mother and stepfather tried to find some semblance of normalcy again, whatever that may be. It was a life-changing event, and like a rock dropped in a mud puddle, it rippled outward to affect more people than he will ever know.

And, I’m mad about it. Still.

I’m mad when he doesn’t get out of bed because it sets a bad example for Ella. I’m mad when he does get out of bed because she loves him so much and I don’t trust that he won’t do it again. I’m mad that the chances of her attempting suicide are increased simply because he, an older family member, did. I’m mad that I’ve had to seriously consider changing child care arrangements, maybe even quitting my job, to limit her exposure to him. I’m mad that I feel like I should be defending him when people ask about him, but I’m too mad to find any empathy in my heart for him and then I feel guilty. I’m mad that I feel guilty about that. I’m mad about how his actions have affected the relationships around him. I’m mad that he can’t stand face to face with me and talk about it, or even admit that he did it. I’m just mad.

And, I don’t understand.

I don’t understand what makes someone decide that their very best option is to take their own life. Pack a bag and leave? That I understand. That I’ve done. But kill myself? Not bloody likely. I cannot imagine a circumstance in which I would feel like that was my only option.

So here I am, now, renewing my effort to pray without ceasing for him, for my family members, and telling others to pray also, when it occurred to me that my heart is full of anger. That I cannot pray, and that I cannot pray effectively, because of my own bitterness. So now every prayer I pray starts with, “God please take this anger from my heart. I know I keep taking it back from you, please forgive me for holding on to it.” Until I let it go, nothing I do or say will help the healing. I need a new perspective. I need to see some change. I need some sign that there is hope that this situation we’ve been fighting through for nearly a year isn’t just going to end up in more hurt and loss.

These are just a few very scary national statistics for you (from American Foundation for Suicide Prevention):

• Over 34,000 people in the United States die by suicide every year.
• Suicide is the fourth leading cause of death for adults between the ages of 18 and 65 years in the United States (28,628 suicides).
• Suicide is the third leading cause of death among those 15-24 years old.
• A person dies by suicide about every 15 minutes in the United States.
• Ninety percent of all people who die by suicide have a diagnosable psychiatric disorder at the time of their death.
• There are an estimated 8-25 attempted suicides for every suicide death.
• Depression affects nearly 10 percent of Americans ages 18 and over in a given year, or more than 24 million people.
• More Americans suffer from depression than coronary heart disease (17 million), cancer (12 million) and HIV/AIDS (1 million).

The phone number you should call if you or someone you love is in danger of committing suicide:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-8255