Lifestyle
What do you truly have to live for? If you’ve ever found yourself contemplating suicide, the answer might be unexpected.
The first time I lost someone to suicide, I was just 15 years old. We were both part of a play; he was the star, and although I wasn’t his leading lady, we spent countless hours together backstage—talking, playing games, and sharing laughs. I never suspected anything was amiss; he always seemed so vibrant. Our performances were set for Tuesday and Thursday, but he ended his life on Wednesday.
No amount of reflection on that time helped me comprehend it. He was tall, athletic, and charming—a football star with a bright future. I couldn’t fathom what could have pushed him to such a dark decision.
It wasn’t until I faced my own struggles with suicidal thoughts that I began to grasp the multifaceted nature of suicidal ideation. It can afflict those who seem to have it all together. Depression can be deceiving, leading one to feel utterly devoid of hope.
Following the birth of my second child, I spiraled into severe postpartum depression. With two infants under two years old, both demanding constant attention, I felt overwhelmed by guilt for not meeting their endless needs. The sleepless nights and hormonal shifts left me teetering on the brink of a breakdown.
One afternoon, while attempting to play with my toddler, everything came crashing down. He became upset because I wasn’t playing “correctly” (three sons later, I still struggle with the nuances of car play). In a fit of frustration, he threw a wooden block at his baby brother. In a moment of panic, I reacted and hurled the block back at him, watching in horror as it struck him in the head.
As he wailed, I enveloped him in my arms, repeatedly apologizing while chastising myself for being a terrible mother. I felt unworthy of my children, convinced I was the worst mom imaginable. No other mother could have acted as I did—this thought loop continued to plague me.
That evening, for the first time, I contemplated taking my own life. For nearly a year, those thoughts visited me intermittently, convincing me my children would be better off without me. Yet, something kept me from acting on those impulses—a lingering shadow in my subconscious that reminded me of my love for them. Although I was willing to die for their sake, I also found a reason to live, even amid feelings of guilt and inadequacy.
Martin Luther King Jr. famously said, “No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they’d die for.” In my experience, this rings true. Deep down, I understood that while others could care for my children, no one would love them the way I did. So despite my imperfections, I chose to endure pain and depression, ensuring my children felt loved.
More than a decade has passed since that turbulent time, and I still don’t consider myself a perfect mother. I can be grouchy and occasionally say things I regret. I often forget things and have the culinary skills of a novice. My sons love to reminisce about my maternal blunders over dinner. Yet they all know they are cherished, and that counts for something.
My boys are now transitioning into their teenage years, and I find myself amazed by the qualities they’ve developed—many stemming from the very flaws I resent in myself. They’ve taken on responsibilities, like managing their homework, because they’ve gotten used to my forgetfulness. They can whip up dinner for our family of six, and they’ve learned how to stand up for themselves respectfully, even when I’m the one being less than kind.
My children are thriving—not merely in spite of my shortcomings, but in part because of them. And I’m grateful to be here to witness their growth.
If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, please take a moment to reach out. For more information, check out this insightful post here. Additionally, for those seeking resources on treating infertility and understanding pregnancy, you can visit ACOG for reliable information. And if you’re considering home insemination, Make A Mom offers reputable products to assist you.
In summary, even in our darkest times, we can find reasons to keep going—especially for the loved ones who depend on us.
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