It’s always heartbreaking to hear that someone has chosen to end their own life. Especially when you think about all of the people they left behind. People who love them. People who would have said or done anything to keep them here if they’d only known what was about to happen. But that’s the thing. They didn’t know. Just like I didn’t know.
*I’m sharing all of this with my husband’s permission.*
My husband has struggled with depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts his entire life. He remembers at age 5 having thoughts of just wanting to die and wondering what it would feel like to jump out of his second-story bedroom window. Shortly after we were married in 2002, he made the decision to talk to his doctor about his mental health and was prescribed medication. There have been times throughout the years when he has decided to try to take himself off of his meds (bad idea) but finally came to the conclusion that he needed to stay on them. It has taken years to find the right combination of medications and supplements that make him feel more balanced.
The meds helped tremendously, but he still had bad days. There were days that he struggled to get out of bed. There were days when I was afraid to go to work and leave him home alone. Days when I saw a sadness and emptiness in his eyes. Days when I felt helpless. Days when my stomach would be upset and I would start panicking if I couldn’t get ahold of him by phone, just to find out he was sleeping and didn’t hear his phone. Over time, those days happened less and less. It seemed like we had found a groove and figured out the best ways to combat the depression. We discovered that winter time is the hardest because of so much darkness and lack of sunshine. We discovered that exercise and eating healthy helps. We discovered that having a routine helps. We discovered that counseling helps. (Obviously Jesus helps, but let’s be real...things like this can’t always just be “prayed away” and then things are all better. And yes, I believe in the power of prayer, I believe in healing, i believe in miracles...but trust me, we had both begged God many times over to take this away and He didn’t. So we trusted Him and tackled things in a practical way - on top of prayer).
We finally came to a place where things were good. Still bad days here and there but nothing compared to how it used to be. I wasn’t worried anymore. Phil seemed better than ever and things seemed ok. The worst seemed to be behind us.
Then a couple of months ago, Phil and I were sitting at the table eating dinner at home. He told me that he wanted to share something with me. He then proceeded to tell me that a year and a half ago, he had made the decision to end his life. He had a plan. He had the means. He was away from home. And he was alone. (At that time, we were going through some hard things in life/marriage. I knew things were rough. I knew we were struggling. But we were working through things. We were communicating. We were seeking the Lord. But I had no idea that Phil was to that point. I didn’t know he was even having thoughts of ending his life.) I was shocked. And instantly sick. I pushed my food away and started crying. Phil looked me in the eyes and told me that he was telling me so that he could share with me that God had set him free in that moment. He told me that God spoke to him moments before he was going to end his life. That God told him this isn’t what he really wants. And ever since that moment, it hasn’t even been a thought. He told me that I don’t have to worry about that anymore. Ever.
I was obviously thrilled to hear that last part. But I had a lot of trouble shaking the first part. I could have lost my husband to suicide 1 1/2 years ago. And I never would have seen it coming. Not then. I started having feelings of guilt because I was disgusted with myself. How could I have not known? How could I have not seen it coming? But I didn’t know. And I didn’t see it.
I’m sharing all of this to say that whenever I hear that someone has chosen to end their life, I am sad and heartbroken. But mostly because it hits so close to home. I think about all of the friends and family members. I think about the guilt they must be feeling. All of the thoughts of wishing they had said or done something...wishing they had known. But they probably couldn’t have known. Just like I didn’t. I want to comfort them and tell them that it isn’t their fault. That there is nothing they could have done differently. That they couldn’t have loved them more. Because that’s what I would have wanted people to say to me.
I don’t know the answer. I don’t know how to make things better. I don’t know how to prevent suicide. Phil has told me that sometimes it doesn’t matter what people say when you already believe the lies that Satan has told you. That sometimes even knowing that people love you isn’t enough, and that when you’re in such a dark place, sometimes God is the only one Who can get your attention.
I’m thanking God every day that my husband is still here with me. With us. After reading the devastating news headlines this week, this morning I told Phil “I’m glad you’re still here. Thank you for choosing to stay.” And I’m going to keep telling him that.
We can’t possibly know what people are thinking and know what demons they are fighting every day. And maybe our words and actions won’t be what keeps someone from choosing to end their life...but maybe it will help in some small way. We have to keep trying. Be kind. Be love. Be present. Be a listening ear. People will still choose to give up. But we can choose to not give up on them.
