When a Child is Suicidal

The text read “I did something dumb. Please take care of Lily”

It was late, I usually don’t hear my texts come in or my phone ring. But I did that night. I called my daughter or she called me. It’s a blur.

She had taken a bunch of pills. Washed them down with alcohol. She still sounded fine but groggy.

I didn’t panic, I felt calm. I was 400 miles away and she didn’t need my chastisement or probing questions. She needed her mom.

The thing is, we had been here before.

Makenzie started feeling depression and anxiety in college. She was always my strong-willed, wear-her-heart-on-her-sleeve, sensitive girl. There were definite signs in highschool of struggles. There were dipping grades, lots of tears, and fights. But she was the oldest of six kids. I was a tired, run-down mom and depended on her a lot. I did the only things I knew how at the time which did not include dealing well with trauma, or any kind of therapy.

So it wasn’t until college, 180 miles away from home, she started therapy and group meetings. I was not overly involved but was available to talk any time she wanted. I didn’t always look forward to phone calls. I was not a therapist and didn’t always know how to help but I was empathetic.

I knew about depression. I knew about anxiety. But mine didn’t hit until my 40’s. I couldn’t imagine trying to navigate through early adulthood with those feelings. I was at a loss of how more to help her. I had been on anti-depressants for years and encouraged her to try them but she was reluctant.

After she graduated she moved further away and started an adult job, in an adult apartment, with her own first adult car and a kitten named Lily. Then there was another job, another apartment, and then another. She would tell us everything was fine, she was was let go of jobs for being late, etc, but she was fine.

She wasn’t fine. She was spiraling.

We didn’t know the extent yet until we got a call one night from an inpatient psychiatric hospital. Makenzie has driven there alone and checked herself in. She says she didn’t want to kill herself necessarily, but the thoughts were there and it scared her. This was our first glimpse of the dark hole she had been in. She spent nine days there, sleeping, medicated, safe.

I handled it a bit with humor as I usually do. They had taken her shoelaces away which I found funny. I resisted the urge to visit because I knew she was in good hands. She got out feeling 100% better. I knew if she just stayed on her meds, stayed away from alcohol, and “bad elements” she’d be fine. I compartmentalized it. Put it away in a corner of my brain that said everything was going to be fine.

Then almost a three years later, unemployed and in a more fragile state than we knew, she took some pills. She sent that text, the one about taking care of her cat, to a few people. It was a cry for help as they say.

Instead of calling an ambulance, we called her brother. He was quick and reliable. He picked her up and took her to an ER. He kept us updated. They didn’t pump her stomach. What she took was not going to kill her. She was sleepy and had forgotten much of the evening and what led her there. But because it was an attempted suicide, she was put on a 72 hr hold and put in the psychiatric ward. We kept in close contact with doctors. She was once again, safe.

We knew she couldn’t go back to how she had been living. We made the decision to move her home. She needed stability, steady meals, sleep, lots of love and therapy. We found Jimmy. He was the therapist our whole family needed. We learned about emotional trauma, shame, guilt and healing. Our entire family sat together one Sunday afternoon with Jimmy as the moderator. Emotion and feelings washed over and through us, that made us feel pounds lighter. There were no more secrets, only love.

Makenzie and I did our own kind therapy at home which included junk food, and lots of bad reality TV. It’s how we bonded again, let go of the heavy and embraced the absurd. Some days were not easy. It was hard on my marriage. We didn’t always agree about what was best for our daughter. When in the end, we learned it wasn’t up to us at all, but up to her. We had to learn to be adults together in the same house. We learned about boundaries.

It took time. Healing did not happen overnight. About 18 months later she was ready. Ready to live again on her own terms. She moved 400 miles away again. Full-time job, new home, adult decisions. And her beloved cat Lily, who had stayed in the care of a friend, was back in arms. Just the other day she said for the first time in a long time she feels like she’s ready to not just survive but thrive! It made my mom heart explode.

I have mostly let go of the mom guilt. What could I have done differently?Could I go back and prevent the pain she was feeling? Those thoughts are now fleeting. I have always told my kids they could talk to me about anything. My door was always open. But now I see the judgments, the expectations, the invisible manual, and check-list I had for how my family would be and the kids knew it too. Being the oldest, Makenzie got the brunt of that check-list. I know at times she thought she was failing me and my expectations. If I could take anything back it would be that.

The manual is gone. The check-list torn up. Every child is different and has their own journey. My job is to love without condition, without shame, or expectation of anything in return. It has been a painful lesson. But after having a child want to self harm, It’s a lesson I’m glad I learned.

Why am I sharing this? Maybe, just maybe, what we have been through will be helpful to someone else. Not every family gets to heal. For many, suicide is a very permanent scar. They do not get the therapy sessions with their loved one to get answers. Mental illness can’t be tied in a bow with a beginning, middle, and end. But there is help out there.

• For prevention and help go to American Foundation for Suicide Prevention