A Letter Too Late

Not long ago I got a phone call from my mother letting me know that a friend of a family-friend’s 18 year old son had completed suicide. Unfortunately, it’s a story I know all too well. Grief stricken parents left utterly confused when their bright young child takes their own life without ever showing a sign that they were suffering from a mental illness.

We talked about how badly we wished there was something we could do when it struck me, his parents may not realize their child died from a disease. They like so many others may be blaming themselves and searching for what they could have done to change things. So I decided to write them a letter in the hope it would provide some form of comfort of understanding.

Dear H,

I can’t imagine what you are going through right now and there are no words that I or anyone else can say to change that. I wanted to write you though and tell you a little about my story in the hope that it may help a little. I suffer from severe depression and anxiety as well and almost 10 years ago I attempted to end my life.

The disease that claimed your son’s life is the 2nd leading cause of death for youth ages 10–24. It kills more young people than cancer, heart disease, AIDs, birth defects, stroke, pneumonia, influenza, and chronic lung disease combined. Like any other fatal disease, it doesn’t discriminate in its victims. It affects people from any and all walks of life.

I think most people find themselves asking why when someone they love has completed suicide. Why did they do it? Why didn’t I see it? That was what my parents wanted to know so badly when they found me in the hospital. I had gone through my and my roommates bathrooms and swallowed every pill I could find. If it weren’t for a friend’s intuition and emergency medical care, I would not have survived to answer those questions. I shudder to think of the pain that would have caused my parents and my sister. Especially my dad.

At that time anyone from the outside would have thought that my life was amazing. I had a loving family, tons of friends, and a beautiful girlfriend. I was very involved in extracurricular activities and got great grades at school. When anyone asked me how I was doing, my most common answer was “life is good”. Under the mask though, I was miserable. I was constantly anxious and had frequent anxiety attacks. Everything in my world had lost it’s interest and nothing in the future would ever hold any promise. It became incredibly difficult to do the most basic of tasks like brushing my teeth or taking a shower.

I tried to tell my dad about how I was feeling the night before my attempt. He’d had a bad day at work though and somehow the conversation took a downward turn. He got angry and finally asked, “what the hell do you have to be unhappy about? You don’t have to worry about paying for college, you’ve got tons of friends, you’ve got a great life.” It haunts me to think that those words were so close to being the last he ever said to me. He would have never forgiven himself and that question of why would have stayed with him for the rest of his life.

The truth is, it had nothing to do with him. We’d had arguments all the time in the past when I was healthy and they weren’t that big of a deal. There were only a small handful of times that I had mentioned how I was really feeling. There was no way for him to recognize that I was as sick as I was.

The answer to “why do we do it?” is very simple. It’s a disease. It’s not because of what our friends and family did or didn’t do. It’s not because the events that happened in our lives. It’s because we suffer from the second most fatal disease to youth. The areas in the brain responsible for things like sadness, angst, despair, and panic flood the brain with massive amounts of chemicals. The intensity of which drowns out all other thoughts or feelings. The part of your brain that tells you things can get better is silent. I couldn’t realize the effect it would have on the ones that I love. I couldn’t understand that this was a disease and I could get treatment. The only thing I knew in that moment was that I needed to end the pain, now. I love my family more than life itself and if I would have been able to think rationally, even for a second, about the pain I would cause them I would never have done it. I wasn’t though, because that part of my brain had physically shut down.

I’m sorry I can’t do more to help you, but I hope you find some consolation however small in knowing that your son died from a very serious disease and nothing else. Please feel free to contact me if there’s anything else I can do to help.

Sincerest regards,

Lance

To my surprise, they shared the letter with family, friends, and the community. I received a call from his grandparents thanking me and explaining how the letter became a light for them in the midst of the dark hole they were trapped in. The conversation was one of the most impactful experiences of my life.

My greatest regret is the letter came too late.