Being honest is important

On Tuesday, it will be year. A year since my world changed forever. A year since my dad ended his life.

We'll never know for sure what happened that day. We'll never know what Dad was thinking or feeling. We'll never know why he took all his medicine at once. We'll never know for sure what he intended.

Knowing Dad's heart, I honestly believe he did not mean to die. But that will forever remain a mystery.

I'm supposed to have all kinds of feelings right now. But I'm not sure what I feel. I've been anxious as "the day" approached, fearing all kinds of overwhelming breakdowns and fits of uncontrollable crying. But I don't really feel that. And that brings some guilty thoughts.

I recently expressed this to a friend who was checking in on me, and she suggested that it might be because I've done a good job of processing all along. I've been doing the work for a year, so this day doesn't necessarily feel any different than yesterday or the day before. That makes sense to me.

Also, Eryn and Mom's remodel/construction/big move is coming to a crescendo, and that's keeping me focused on forward movement and some resolution to this year-long journey.

Since I'm focusing on honesty in this post, I'll admit that I truly enjoy organizing and packing and sorting and things like that. So while the work is exhausting and seemingly never ending, I enjoy the tasks and the process. That makes this transition a little easier.

I awoke Saturday, expecting 1-4 inches of snow on the ground, triggering upwards to a week with stormy weather and no school. There was nothing, and my disappointment was way out of proportion. I felt sad and mopey, and I think that's because I was expecting that snowy weather to - I don't know - distract me? or excite me? or give me something on which to focus? or allow a short break from the reality of "life"? I was ready to hunker down, and the change of plans left me filled with unwarranted sadness.

Perhaps the excitement over the pending storm was distracting me from my feelings? I'm not sure. But I was able to come out of my funk after getting some things done, exercising several times alone and with friends (exercise has been SO key for me!), standing outside during a heavy snow flurry, and soaking in some sunshine Sunday.

Life is complicated. Ugh.

As I look back at the past year, and Dad's death, and Dad's life, and all that, some things stand out.

First, it's incredibly important to me that we are real about what happened. My dad suffered his entire life with mental illness. He had sometimes-crippling OCD and depression, and that made his life and his relationships difficult. He did everything he could to combat these diseases: counseling, prayer, medication, meditation, exercises, etc. In the end, he lost. To learn more, click HERE to read my mom's words.

A lot of things contributed to Dad's final downward spiral, including his father's recent death, politics and social justice issues, some very negative actions by those close to us, and the fact that many people he cared deeply about were on the other side of political and moral issues. 

I knew my dad struggled, but I had no idea the depth of this illness. I respect his decision to keep that from me, but I wish he had trusted me with the knowledge so I could have helped and been more supportive of his needs.

I've seen suicide described two ways: as the taking of one's life, and also the intentional taking of one's life. As I said, I don't believe there was an intent to die. But he did end his own life.

So maybe "suicide" isn't the right word. Or maybe I hesitate to use it because of the societal connotations that I'm trying to change by sharing?? Or maybe I, myself, am avoiding the word because it's too painful. But the mental-health crisis that led to Dad's death is the problem, no matter how it's labeled.

But let's be clear: My dad did not die from a medical condition, as one relative described it. That is not honest. It may make us all feel better to let others think he had a heart attack or cancer, but that's not what happened. It's imperative that we're honest and share his story so others can be helped - so others know they aren't alone.

If he had suffered a heart attack, we'd be proclaiming it from the rooftops, encouraging those around us to get screened and eat better and exercise and take steps to make sure we're healthy and don't succumb to the same illness.

Mental illness and suicide are major problems in our world right now. In 2017, more than 47,000 Americans died by suicide. There were an estimated 1,400,000 suicide attempts that same year. Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the US. (source)

"There is no single cause to suicide. It most often occurs when stressors exceed current coping abilities of someone suffering from a mental health condition." (source)

I've personally been affected by more than a half-dozen suicide deaths. This is NOT something that "happens to other people." 

Please don't whitewash my father's death to make yourselves feel better or because you're embarrassed or see it as a failing. Suicide needs to be talked about. Friends, family, co-workers, loved ones, strangers need to know they are loved and they are not alone and the struggles they have are common and can be addressed. Also, survivors need to know they aren't alone!

My dad didn't fail. He fought long and hard, and he was a good man who just couldn't beat it. 

Also, PLEASE stop making jokes and flippant comments about having OCD because you like your house tidy. It's not funny, and it hurts.

Mom, Eryn, and I have some self-care things planned for the next few days. Please keep us in your thoughts as we hit this milestone and feel whatever we're going to feel. 

💗

PS - If you're struggling with mental illness and/or thoughts of self harm, please seek help. Tell someone. You are not alone. You are loved. You matter. Click HERE.