I rounded the corner to my house, hoping to drop the kids off and shelter them from the situation until I knew the specifics of what was happening. Unfortunately, I was too late. Two police officers were already waiting at the house. I had just gotten a call from my husband’s sister explaining his whereabouts, his plan to end his life, and his last words. I knew that this time he would be successful. I knew that this was really it. All of what she told me matched exactly to our previous conversations about how he would do it. When I say this to people I get the pie eyed look and the question, “You guys talked about his suicide before he did it?” Of course! This also needed an explanation to the officers waiting at my house. When they stated who they were and why they were there they said, “ I’m sure that you are very shocked, but we need to ask you some questions.” I responded with, “I’m shocked that this is happening today, but I am not shocked that it’s happening.” They asked me to elaborate on that so I went on to explain Cal’s ever present and ongoing struggle with mental illness.
This man dealt with depression from the time he was very young. To a few others and myself, Cal opened up about the first time he remembers wondering why he was here and wanting to just disappear or die. He was nine. That’s right, nine. I remember him telling the story and looking around our living room as if he was once again a nine year old, fourth grader, taking in the surroundings of his classroom. From that time his feelings of worthlessness, fear, anxiety, and despair continued to take over his life. I knew of Cal’s struggles with depression and anxiety within a week of dating him. He was very forthright with me and we discussed it openly. Medication was a helpful tool for many years, but as those that struggle know, sometimes a medication will become ineffective. This happened after we had been married for two years. I saw a side to my husband that I had never seen. He completely withdrew, was easily angered, and felt very inadequate. It was during this episode that I heard him utter the words, “Sometimes I feel like I could end it all,” for the first time. I was nursing our baby and I instantly looked down at him and wondered what this could mean for us. He must have sensed my panic because he gave me the signature Cal hand wave and said, “Don’t worry, Babe. I’ll keep living for you and the kids. I was just talking.” Deflection was one of his strong suits. This started another process of seeking new treatments through counseling and medication. Things mellowed for a while, but as mental illness does, each time it reared its ugly head it came back with a vengeance. We attacked each downward spiral with new and more aggressive treatments such as different medications, intense therapy, hormone therapy, amino acid therapy, shock therapy (you read that right), diet and exercise, and inpatient hospitals. We tried everything. Cal hated how he felt and he hated the effect his illness had on his life.
We were his reason. He stated this often and even those that knew him briefly understood this about him. Cal personified the definition of a family man. He was extremely devoted to his family, often trying to find ways to manage his mental illness because he hated how it affected us. He made every decision for us. This may sound like an oxymoron when you consider that he died by suicide. If you have never been touched by depression or mental illness, death in this fashion would appear to be the most selfish act a human can perform. Trust me when I say that until you’ve lived with it yourself or lived with a loved one that does, you will not understand how suicide is perceived as the opposite of that by those that take their lives. The sick brain, along with intense painful emotions, become the master of destroying one’s self worth. On even the good days it was not unusual to hear, “I don’t deserve this.” “I don’t deserve you.” “Why do the kids look at me like I’m their hero?” “You’d be better off with someone else.” It’s as if the brain is completely incapable of seeing yourself of ANY value. The clearest analogy I have used with my children is that of a bully. Understandably, someone that is being bullied will try to avoid the bully and want the bullying to stop. Along with that, the victim can quickly second guess their worth and/or start to fully believe that they are worthless due to the bullying that they endure. Now lets imagine that the said bully is your own ill brain. In this situation the bully is always with you. There is no escaping it. There is also no one to witness the abuse to support you through it. Mental illness makes a person his or her own silent, menacing, and effective bully.
Case in point: A month after being hospitalized for his first suicide attempt, the kids were messing around in the family room, we were all laughing, I was sitting on his lap, and I whispered to him, “Now, aren’t you so glad that you’re still here for this?” When he responded with, “I’m happy for you and the kids,” I knew that it was only a matter of time. It is for this reason that hearing comments about suicide being selfish infuriates me. Most suicide victims are victims to a long struggle with mental illness and/or addiction. Their means to escape constant mental torture is no more selfish than those that end their life while battling a physical illness. They are both unrelenting and intense pain. I can tell you that after watching the man that I loved, admired, and was closest to suffer for so long, I got to the point that many do when their spouse is in the final days of a life threatening illness. I just wanted his suffering to end. It is completely unjust to have to watch a person you would give your own life for suffer; knowing that treatments can bring only slight and temporary relief. This is one of life’s biggest conundrums. I wanted relief for him, but I never wanted to say goodbye.
He wanted relief for everyone. His mind tricked him into believing that this was the way to ensure that. His mind could not let him see the emptiness, the loneliness, and the huge hole that was left in his absence. He couldn’t see the missed welcome home hugs after a long day, the “Daddy hurry home,” when he was traveling for work, the “I wish Dad was here so I could ask him about this,” and all the times we say, “If Dad were here; this would be perfect.” He couldn’t see me reaching for him next to me in bed those first few weeks, my struggle to make decisions because he was my sounding board and I was shaken to the core, my emptiness and numbness that frightened friends and family, the constant reminders of him, and he definitely didn’t see any of us holding on to his shell at his viewing; begging for just a little longer. Tragic! So, the next time you hear someone talk about the selfishness of suicide or start to walk down that path yourself (because let’s face it, even I have my moments) remind yourself that this was a person dealing with intense pain and torment. This was a human that as an effect of their illness thought so little of themselves, they wholeheartedly believed the tragedy of their loss was an easier burden to bear than their presence. Ultimately they saw it as a way out for everyone. In reality, they are victims of suicide and mental illness rather than perpetrators of a selfish crime. If you must loathe or blame something; blame mental illness and it’s devastating effects.
This post is dedicated to our village. Thank you so much for all of the love and support you have shown regardless of your understanding of our loss. Our journey would not have been the same with out you.
“Man, people must really love us, Mom.”-Ardin
