When I was 14, I faced an overwhelming darkness. It wasn’t my first encounter with despair, but it was the first time I fully understood the gravity of my actions. My initial brush with these feelings occurred when I was only 8. Struggling with chronic insomnia, my mom, like many parents, felt helpless. She tried everything – warm milk, soothing music, and calming baths. But when I would wake her at 3 AM, she resorted to giving me a book and a small sip of peach schnapps, tucking me into the couch, and retreating to her own rest.
I didn’t recognize my feelings as depression, and as such, my family couldn’t either. Most days, I’d come back from school in tears, yet I appeared to be a happy child otherwise. On the night of my first attempt, exhaustion consumed me, and in my misery, I considered that sleep might feel a lot like being dead. I found myself in the kitchen with a knife, pondering a choice far too heavy for my young heart. Luckily, fear triumphed over despair that night, and I returned to bed.
Now as a parent, the thought of my children experiencing similar struggles terrifies me. The challenge is that mental health isn’t always visible, and symptoms can blend seamlessly into personality traits. Was I simply introverted, or was I showing signs of distress? I can’t blame my parents; depression often tricks you into hiding your pain.
The reality is alarming—children as young as 8 have taken their own lives. In fact, suicide ranks as the second leading cause of death among kids aged 10 to 18. So how do we navigate this scary terrain?
Reflecting on my childhood, I wish my parents had opened a dialogue about mental health earlier. I longed for conversations about feelings and reassurance that mental illness isn’t anyone’s fault. It would have been a relief to know that therapy was a resource, not a taboo topic.
When my parents eventually took me to therapy, it felt like we had an unspoken agreement to avoid discussing why we were there. I even found myself lying to my therapist, as my depression urged me to conceal my struggles.
Now that my kids are approaching the age when I first faced my own battles, I strive to have these tough conversations. It’s challenging to explain that I live with an invisible illness and that mental health issues run in our family. Admitting that I attend therapy feels daunting, but it’s essential. The alternative—losing a child to despair—would be far more unbearable.
Regardless of your own history with mental illness, it’s crucial to communicate with your kids. Let them know that feelings of hopelessness or anger are normal but if they persist, seeking help is important. Remind them there’s no shame in having a mental health condition.
Depression is a leading cause of disability worldwide, and it’s vital for them to know it’s okay to ask for help. Learn the warning signs of depression and suicide, and start these conversations before a crisis arises. Most importantly, listen actively.
You can be the voice that helps #StopSuicide. September 5-11 is National Suicide Prevention Week—check out the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention for more resources.
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In summary, begin the conversation about mental health early and openly. The stakes are too high to ignore the signs. Your willingness to communicate and listen can make a profound difference in your child’s life.