My greatest fear as a parent has always been that one of my children would take their own life. Having my own struggle with mental illness and my history of suicide attempt is what has driven that fear.

A couple of years ago, one of my boys was in a very difficult mental place. He was the lowest I had ever seen him. One evening, he told me some things that put me on high alert and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I prayed and went to bed with a broken and worried heart.

The next morning I turned on my computer and pulled up my Facebook news feed. The first thing that came up was a video called, Sitting on the Bench: Thoughts on Suicide Prevention. It had just been released that morning. I watched it through blurry vision as tears welled in my eyes. I knew God was reaching out to me. In the video, Seth Adam Smith shared his story about his own suicide attempt and how his brother saved him. Recognition began to come over me and then I saw Seth’s brother, Sean, on the video. I knew Sean personally. He was a member of the leadership of my local church congregation and I worked directly with him as I was the leader of our church’s program for children. I immediately reached out to him through text and email. I shared with him what was going on with my son and that I knew God had guided me to him. He worked for the Anasazi Foundation which is an outdoor behavioral health program. Sean invited me to attend an information meeting at Anasazi Foundation that afternoon.

As I learned more about Anasazi I found other connections as well. In the last couple of years, I had read a book called Leadership and Self-Deception which had spoken to me on a deep level. One of my other sons had been assigned to read the book and had shared it with me. It was published by the Arbinger Institute. I then discovered that Anasazi was connected to the Arbinger Insitute and their philosophy was one in the same. Anasazi promoted a second book by the Arbinger Institute titled, Anatomy of Peace. The storyline basically followed what the Anasazi program was all about.

I knew that God was giving me the answer as to what we were supposed to do for our son. I didn’t know how we were going to make it happen, but I knew we had to find a way. Financially it would be a huge burden for our family. My son was also over the age of 18 which meant he had to consent to go, we couldn’t force him. My son had other health issues with asthma and allergies which I thought might prevent him from being cleared by his doctor to be on the wilderness trail for 7 weeks. There were so many obstacles. I never questioned what God wanted. I approached each obstacle and He gave me the strength to do what had to be done to overcome it. As a mother, it was the hardest thing I had ever had to do. It’s impossible for me to put into words the gut wrenching I had to overcome to push him out the door to go. To stand strong and not waiver. God gave me the strength to not crumble.

He went. He did it. Maybe someday he and I can come together to write about our experiences that were happening simultaneously in different places on the earth. For seven weeks I know God held our family in His hands. I will forever be grateful for the experiences we had. Almost 2 years later I see on a daily basis the effects of my son’s time in the wilderness. I know it forever changed his life. My son has a positive effect on my life on a daily basis because of the things he learned out there and because of the choices he now chooses to make.

There are no coincidences. I don’t believe it was luck that a specific video was released the morning after my desperate prayer. I don’t believe it was luck that Sean Smith was in my church family, having moved from Utah the previous year. It wasn’t luck that I already had a relationship developed with him because of each of our service to our church family. It wasn’t luck that I already had knowledge of the root philosophy of Anasazi through a book that my other son was assigned to read at school…

There’s one more twist to this story…

Almost a year after my son’s walk in the wilderness, we were invited to attend the annual Anasazi Scholarship Gala. The purpose of the gala, is to raise money to help families who have financial hardship, put a child through the program. We were one of those families that received financial help the previous year. The event includes an auction of donated specialty items, a dinner, recognition, and entertainment. One of the entertainers for this event held a special place in my own personal history of struggle with depression and suicide. I had once laid in a hospital bed watching CMT as I recovered from a suicide attempt, that should have ended my life. A video played over and over during my recovery… Somewhere in my Broken Heart by Billy Dean. Now, almost 25 years later, I sat in a room filled with hope for my own son’s future. Pictures flashed on a big screen of families being reunited, including my own. My breath caught and tears streamed down my cheek as Billy Dean stood in front of me and sang, Somewhere in my Broken Heart…
I knew God knew me.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, otherwise known as Mormons, have recently launched a website specifically for Suicide Prevention and Support. It is not specifically geared towards the church, but is a resource for anyone and everyone who is struggling with mental illness and needs support. There are 12 links on the site to other suicide prevention sites not affiliated with the church. If you are feeling hopeless, please go check out the site where you can find support and love. I know God knows you, just as he knows me.

This story was originally written on September 18, 2016.

I was 18. I would be graduating from high school in a few months… barely. I knew that the day was soon approaching that I would be done with high school and I would be considered an adult. It meant I was supposed to take a step in some direction. I was in love and thought that he would marry me and save me.

He was 26 when we met and I was 17. We had met six months earlier when my best friend had started dating his younger brother. We were introduced to each other one night at his house. He was kind. He talked to me. He asked me questions and he listened. I can still remember walking with him down the front walkway to my friend’s car and feeling happy inside.

The four of us started hanging out together. After not long, my friend and his brother stopped dating, but we continued to spend time together. From the beginning, it made no sense to me that he would want to spend time with me. I didn’t understand what he could possibly see in me. There was such a huge gap in our ages. He owned his own home, a boat, a car, and a truck. His life was well established. He worked hard. When he wasn’t working he would spend his time with me. It didn’t make sense… but it felt good that he wanted to be with me. I was young. I thought he was everything. It didn’t take long for me to envision being married to him. He would take care of me. I would have a safe place with someone who cared about me. He was my way out of my life.

I would stay the night at his house sometimes on the weekend. He let me drive his cool car, a restored Monte Carlo. We went on a couple of overnight trips. I thought I was his girl. Looking back, I can see that actually he was just my friend. Our relationship was about being together. He was there for me. He cared about my wellbeing because that’s the kind of person he was. He gave me attention that I needed. It’s as if he was just keeping watch over me. At the time, I assumed he had romantic feelings for me because it’s what I wanted. I don’t think he ever really felt that way about me.

When he told me he didn’t want to spend time together anymore, I was devastated. Suddenly I felt I had nowhere to go. I was lost again. I had no value. I had no purpose. I had no reason for living. I could see nothing in my future. Nothing.

It was evening. I was in my bedroom. I had a bottle of Tylenol. I began to put pills in my mouth one at a time and swallow them. This wasn’t the first time I had done this… but this time was different. I didn’t count the pills. I just kept swallowing them. When I was done, I laid down on my bed and cried until I didn’t feel anything anymore.

Morning came. My aunt came in to wake me. I was lethargic. She asked me if I took pills. I didn’t want to wake up. Tears wet my face.

There was no reason to pump my stomach. Too much time had passed. They made me drink something on a timed schedule to attempt to protect my liver from damage.

I laid in a hospital bed for days with CMT playing on the TV. I specifically remember watching *Billy Dean’s video Somewhere In My Broken Heart.

The doctor came in to talk to me the last day I was there. He told me it made no sense that I was still alive. He had no explanation for my body surviving what I had done. There was a teenager who had died just days before me that had less Tylenol in their system than I did. He told me that it was a miracle. He said that God had something important for me to do on this earth. That He had a purpose for keeping me here. He could not explain it any other way. He was solemn and deliberate with his words wanting to make sure I understood what he was saying.

That was 25 years ago. My aunt and uncle still live in the same town and cross paths with my doctor. When he sees them, he always wants to know what I’m doing and how I am. I suspect he’s watching to see how far God’s miracle will reach…

*This connection to Billy Dean and my memory of watching his video over and over again came full circle in November 2015. I will share that experience in an upcoming post.

If you are feeling lost or hopeless please reach out to someone. My situation is unique in that I survived my suicide attempt. Tylenol poisoning is a slow and painful way to die. Overdosing is not something to mess around with or to use as a cry for help. Please tell someone how you are feeling and what you are thinking so that you can get help and support. The hopelessness you feel will not last forever. You can and will find joy again. You are stronger than you think you are.

National Suicide Prevention Hotline
1-800-273-8255

That first year that I lived with my aunt and uncle was amazing. After the turmoil I had been in during the previous years, it felt good to be settled in one place. It felt good to go to the same school all year and make real friends. I felt safe. I wanted to stay there.

That summer my mom decided she wanted me back home with her. She was still living with her boyfriend*. I was still terrified of him. I didn’t realize when I went to visit her that she was going to make me stay. Once I was back at her house she told me I wasn’t going back to live with my aunt. She said she only agreed to one school year and now I was going to live back at home with her.

It was a house I had never been to before. It was in a new area of the valley that I didn’t know. I had no friends. Living in the house were my mom, her boyfriend, my older brother, and younger brother. Being there felt like I was in a foreign country where I was terrified of what would happen to me.

My mom wasn’t my mom. The days were spent with clients coming in and out of the house. They met with her in a special room where she would do readings with them. Before the scheduled appointment, mom would go into her bedroom, put on a white karate gi, and channel** a spirit that would counsel with the client.

My brothers were usually watching movies or playing video games. I was just there. All I could think about was finding a way to escape before my mom’s boyfriend did something to me… or my mom hurt me***.

I spent most of my time huddled in a corner in the bedroom with my blankie that was constantly soaked with tears. When mom and her boyfriend were busy with clients, I would sneak out of my room and go unplug the phone and bring it into my bedroom. Every time I did it, I was scared I would get caught, and worried about what would happen to me when I was. I would call my aunt collect and beg her to come and get me. I felt like I was going to die. I had no hope. I just wanted to disappear in that corner.

After weeks of this routine, my aunt finally got my mom to agree to let me and my two brothers go up north to her house for a visit. The understanding was that we would spend a week there, I would pack up all my things, and the following weekend my other aunt would drive us back down to mom’s house.

I’ll never forget how I felt when I finally saw my aunt and I was in her car driving away. It’s something that is impossible to put into words. Looking back, I think I was in shock from the trauma of those weeks feeling like I was trapped with no way out. I just stared out the window. It’s like I was holding my breath all that time and finally I was able to gasp and get some air. But there was damage. I couldn’t just start breathing normally… especially since I knew that I was supposed to turn around and go back a week later.

That first night back at my aunt’s, I just remember laying on the bed in a trance like state of softly crying, and my body going between feeling stiff and like I was convulsing and couldn’t fully control what my arms were doing. I kept repeating, “I can’t go back, I can’t go back, I can’t go back…”. My aunt comforted me and told me I wouldn’t have to go back.

The day came when I was supposed to go back to my mom’s with my brothers. I felt panic and told my aunt I couldn’t get in the car. She said I didn’t have to. My brothers were confused when I didn’t get in the car with them. I remember my older brother being angry.

That afternoon, I started my period for the first time. I remember feeling so thankful that it hadn’t happen while I was at my mom’s. I imagined how horrific it would have been, being on my own to figure out what to do, and that it might have signaled to my mom’s boyfriend that I was a woman now and fair game.

A few hours later, the phone call came. My aunt talked to my mom first. I have no idea what was said. The phone was handed to me. She yelled. She was angry. She said hateful things and called me a f-ing bitch. I had never been called something like that before… and the fact that it came from my mom, sent the sting even deeper. Disbelief. I felt hated and like a piece of trash for deceiving her. I knew I was the worst daughter in the world. Then she hung up on me.

That was the last time she ever talked to me about going back to live with her. A year later, she sent my youngest brother to also come live at my aunt’s house…

*This is the same boyfriend referred to in Blue Tile and Time After Time. She eventually married him.

**My mom had become involved in metaphysical beliefs, channeling, energy work, tarot cards, crystals, readings, etc. several years prior. Her involvement continued to grow as time went on. This wasn’t the first time I had seen her do channeling work. It scared me. I didn’t understand it. All I knew was that her mannerisms were different and so was her voice. I didn’t know if it was her or not. I just knew it didn’t feel good.

***The truth is, I worried that she might channel a different spirit that was evil and would hurt me or my brothers. I viewed her as not having control over her body or her decisions.

One of my previous posts titled, An Object, is actually based on the experience in this story and my feelings that connect me so deeply to the movie The Abolitionist.

I hate that song. I rarely use that word. I feel that it’s such a strong unforgiving word.

Songs can have deep anchors to memories. This song is probably one of my strongest anchors to a memory. The second I hear it, I turn it off. The feelings it brings up are so uncomfortable that if I’m caught off guard, it makes my eyes water. I feel pain in my chest.

I was standing in the hallway. My mom was there. She was embracing me. I had been crying. I was upset. She had just told me something that didn’t make sense to me. I didn’t understand what it meant. It scared me. It made me want to hide.

What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to act? What was I supposed to say? How was I supposed to respond? What was supposed to happen next?

She was holding me in a tight embrace. We were standing on the cold tile floor. I could smell the cabbage soup cooking on the stove. The song began to play. She started swaying back and forth to the music as she held me. She was trying to soothe me. Comfort me.

It didn’t make sense.

She was telling me things that a young girl shouldn’t hear. He was sexually attracted to me. It wasn’t just me. He had a daughter younger than me. She said that when his daughter sat on his lap, he would get a hard on… he was sexually aroused by her. I thought about how young she was. Maybe he had touched her in private places. Maybe he would touch me in private places. I was trapped.

She held me as she swayed to the music… and I cried. I wasn’t a baby who could be consoled by rocking… and neither was I an adult who could protect herself. I was a lost girl somewhere in the middle.

There was no safety to turn to.

The song ended and the embrace broke.

She put blankets out on the floor. She said she would stay with me. Soft music was playing. I wanted to feel protected by her. I needed to be protected by her. She laid down next to me. Eventually I went to sleep.

I woke. It was dark. No music. I rolled over. Mom was gone. She was supposed to stay with me. Protect me. She wasn’t there. Where was she? I heard noise. I got up. I walked toward her bedroom. I heard the noise clearer. The door was wide open. I saw them. She was supposed to be protecting me. She was with him. The same man who wanted to have sex with me.

“You could at least close the door!”

I slammed it.

I heard laughing.

I was furious. I was hurt. I was furious. Anger surged inside of me.

How could she do this? How could she be with him? He told her he was sexually attracted to me. She told me. I was hurting. I was gutted.

SHE’S SUPPOSED TO PROTECT ME!

I wretched.

I hate that song.

This story took place before Blue Tile and connects to the same man.

If you are a mom or dad in a relationship with someone who has admitted to you that they have sexual feelings towards one or more of your children, it is your job to protect them. This is not a situation that you can fix by telling your child. Telling your child is not going to keep this person from harming them. You cause harm to your own child when you tell them they are in danger and then you don’t remove the danger. You break a trust. Your child will feel unloved and unworthy of protection. Your child will feel like they did something wrong to deserve this treatment. Your child will feel trapped. Your child will feel dirty… but won’t know how to clean away the dirt. Please, even if you have a feeling that your boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife has any level of sexual or abusive feelings towards your child, do the right thing and remove this person from your home. If you are incapable of doing this, then remove your child to a safe environment where they can be properly cared for and protected.