The reality of suicide:

Friday morning, I got up and started my daily routines. Like any Friday morning. This began with getting kids off to school. I dressed my son and we drove to over to feed the horses. As I was driving back the strangest thought popped into my head out of nowhere,

"Tabitha committed suicide." 

I pushed it aside as I had pushed it away for years. I turned onto my street and pulled into the garage. The thought popped into my head again. Just this week 3 kids from my community committed suicide. Suicide has been heavy on my mind. It is so hard watching these kids struggle and so many take their lives. It's heavy on my mind because I have been there a lot, myself. I wanted to die. I wanted to be with Tabitha. I wanted to not be here. I didn’t want to carry the heavy load and responsibilities that daily are a struggle. 

The pain of missing Tabitha is so unbearable at times that death would alleviate the pain. I have never experienced such excruciating pain. I never imagined that emotional pain and a broken heart could hurt worse than physical pain. On top of all of these thoughts, I felt guilty that I had these thoughts or wanted to leave because I have 5 other kids here with me now. Kids that need me now. How can I feel like this when I have these other kids that depend on me, that need me? This added more pain onto my already straining and struggling soul. 

A year before I was in a very familiar deep dark depression and despair. Life was moving on, time was passing. It all was adding up way too fast: My children were getting older and passing up Tabitha's age. People were forgetting her. Her friends were growing and progressing in life. I watched the girls her same age in my ward and ached to see what Tabitha would be doing and who she would have become best friends with. 

I felt that I was losing my relationship with God. I’ve already learned to listen to His promptings because I had been through so much throughout my life. My faith was struggling. As time went by, I didn't lose my belief in God, I lost my hope and my fight. I was too tired to pray. I was too tired to read my scriptures, I was too tired to function every day. I hit a point that seemed like my brain broke. I was no longer thinking logically. I attempted to take my life. I attempted a few times and wanted to be gone. After each time I snapped out of it and thought, "What am I doing?" I didn’t fear death… I was good with death. But I did not want to take my own life. I wanted God to take me. I couldn't believe the actions I was taking, and it was scary in those moments how I was not even realizing what I was doing.

So many people say, "Go get help", "Talk to someone", etc. But, well, it doesn't work that way. I had been depressed for a little over 2 years at this point and I didn't even know the danger I was in myself. Everyone knew I was depressed and everyone knew I was struggling. Nathan worked hard to check on me often and was ready to leave work at any second to be with me.

What people don't understand is that sometimes there are no signs. Sometimes the signs are depression, but depression can last years. In that place, when it is weighing heaviest on your mind, it's hard to reach out for help. It is hard to even want to. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want to talk at all. I didn't want to open my mouth.

Nathan put the suicide hotline number on my phone. He did all he could possibly do. Others would ask what they can do. The harsh reality is that there isn't a lot that anyone can do. It's up to me. It's up to those that struggle, and hurt, to do something. I have learned to watch in myself for the signs of being overwhelmed. I had to learn where my thought process goes and to reach out in a moment I feel I might mentally go somewhere I can't return from. I have learned that I just cannot do everything and to allow things to fall by the wayside. If it's really important it will find its way back onto my path.

"Tabitha committed suicide." 

It sunk in more and more. I realized I had been in denial for years. How could my sweet Tabitha do that? Why would she do it? It just didn't make sense. She was such a happy girl, full of love and laughter. She loved life. It didn't make any sense. 

Nathan had told me for a long time that there were things we should talk about. One day. He wouldn’t tell me what it was. I needed to be ready, but it was okay if we wait 30 years to talk about it. It drove me nuts, but I didn't pry. I thought it was his own issues. But at this moment as I pulled into the driveway, somehow I realized this was what he was talking about. 

Still, I pushed it out of my mind again, "no!" My sons bus came to take him to school and I sent him out the door. As I watched him get onto the bus the thought came back again. I sat at the computer to work on my projects and homework. But I couldn't think. I couldn't remember any of my tasks. The thought hit again. I thought to call Nathan and ask him. Ask him if this was what he “wouldn't talk” to me about for 30 years. 

I couldn't do it. I decided I needed to wait for him to get home from work before I bring it up in person. So I tried working again, and I just couldn't function. I spent some time cleaning breakfast and putting the kitchen back in order. I sat back down and couldn't think. I got back up and found more things to do, all the while my brain spun over and over. I couldn't shake the thoughts. It was so strong in my mind. I needed to call Nathan, but I couldn't do it over the phone. 

My hands got sweaty. My body became restless. I watched tv to preoccupy my mind. My son came home from school; I gave him lunch and got him started on his homework. I felt I was losing my mind. I had a thought, that I could call Nathan and he often wouldn't answer, and in that, I could feel some relief. I called Nathan's phone and after a few rings, it went to voicemail. I felt the relief of taking a step best I could. I felt at that point that I could get going on the tasks that I needed to get done. 

As I worked I began asking myself if that was at all what he was talking about. What if he said, "No, that isn't what I couldn't talk about." Seconds after that thought my phone rang. It was Nathan. I told myself I don't have to tell him what I was calling about. I don’t have to ask him about it. I can just answer and if I can't talk about it, then I can just ask him how he is doing. I answered the phone and immediately began stumbling over my words. I asked him if the subject we “couldn’t” talk about was that Tabitha didn’t die by accident. That Tabitha actually committed suicide. 

He sighed and said, "Yes." It hit me like a ton of bricks. I broke down. It was true. How could I live so long in denial? I felt like a fool. I knew what happened. I had heard people all around me claim it to be suicide. I did not want to believe it. I couldn't believe it. There is a huge line between a child's accidental death and a child's suicide. I was now on the other side of the line. My brain froze, I couldn't think. I don't know what Nathan said over the phone. I do know he was ready to come home to be with me. I told him to stay at work, I would be okay. I also just wanted to watch TV for the rest of the day.

I tried to figure out why Tabitha would take her own life. She was so happy. There were NO signs. Minutes before she did it I played cards with my friend while our little ones played with each other on the floor. Tabitha wanted to play with us, but I made her go back upstairs and finish her schooling. She grabbed a granola bar and went back upstairs. Not more than an hour later I found her, my worst nightmare came true. In the first moments after finding her I knew she would be okay because things like this don't happen. It's not normal. The ambulance, police, and Life Flight all came to our home. They knew what I couldn't tell myself. I felt numb and completely lost. 

While in the ambulance and in the hospital they allowed me to sit and hold her lifeless body. Somehow my family kept showing up in the hospital room. Someone walked in and asked why this happened, the sheriff responded, "Sometimes with suicide..." but I cut him off. I barked at him and I yelled, "This was not suicide. She would never do that." He went silent. I believed it was an accident. I had believed it ever since. The detectives and coroner allowed me to believe what I needed to. Nathan allowed me to believe what I needed to.

Nathan was so kind and loving to allow me the time to believe it was an accident. He never pushed it on me, he allowed me time. He never pushed or disagreed. He knew it all along. He gave me time. He told me he thought for sure this day would be 30 years away. He did not expect it to happen now. But it was a huge relief to him to have it all out and open. I feel relief for him, but this began a heaviness that I must carry.

I had started an Angel Mom group, gathering others who have lost their children. I realized my angel mommy group is more and more deaths by suicide outnumbering the deaths by accident. My child took her own life. I realized how silly thought it was to compare to others, though it was a real feeling. Our children are gone, that is all that matters.

Since then I have felt very down and broken and many times I thought I would fall into the depths of depression again and have to fight for life again. I sunk, but it didn't pull me under. This one Doctor taught me steps to retell myself the story. I went through steps to tell myself a different story. I asked myself, "How can I use this as a challenge and opportunity?" I decided that I will use this to help others. I will use this to write my story. To write a book about the many lessons I have learned throughout all of my trials and struggles. I will get more involved and help others to overcome the darkness that seeks to destroy them. 

What is my council to those who are trying to comfort someone through this? You and everyone around them needs to understand that it takes time and a lot of bumps through pain as your loved one is coming to grips in facing this new reality. It is not a new reality for now, it is for the rest of your life.  

I once found a statue that was all white and shaped like the Pillsbury Doughboy, but the whole center of the body was missing. That is how we feel. It is not for a time; we are changed forever and we learn to live with that hole. 

You can help them by never forgetting their loved one. Tell them about the missing loved ones and never stop showering them with embracing love. 

I didn't feel I could talk to anyone about this, partially from shock and partially feeling like a fool. Finally though, now I knew, and when my sister Emma called me on the phone to talk about something, I finally told her. She responded, "We all knew, we were waiting for you."