Suicide? Get Help and Remove Those Blinders!

I need to speak a little about suicide. With the recent deaths of Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade, and recent rumblings from friends on Facebook who seem to be considering a similar fate, I feel compelled to speak.

Douglas Fisher, Scott Fisher, Wayne Fisher

Firstly, let me give you a little about my brush with the issue. In 1980, my 26 year old brother, Wayne, committed suicide by poison. He had suffered with new seizures that had begun from a previous brain injury and told my parents, “that he was afraid his brain was going to deteriorate and didn’t want to be a burden.” To say that my parents, my other brother and I, were devastated, would be an understatement. My parents were nothing but supportive of all of us, but the guilt that my brother’s death caused them was terrible. My parents always put us first, yet they felt so guilty that they must have done something wrong. It was horrible to watch. I was 16 and it was my first real brush with tragedy. Wayne and I were very close, and we shared many interests and he was always so encouraging and supportive of me. I learned at an early age that people could leave your life forever and that you must cherish each moment with them. My older brother, Doug, felt really badly, as he was only 2 years older than Wayne, and they had really grown up together. Doug and I talked about how horrible and sad Wayne’s death had been to our family, and that we could never do such a thing to the people we would leave behind.
The saddest part was how great my brother was, and how he really made a difference in the world, and now that opportunity for him to shine and grow was forever taken away by suicide. I was angry for many years. ” How could he do this to my mom and dad? To me? ” My parents would have spent all of their savings, anything, to help him. “How could he do this to us?” Well, it took a few more years to wrap my head around this, not until I was studying psychology in college and learned about depression. Wayne was in pain, he wasn’t thinking about us, he wanted to end his pain and could not see the positives of the future, because he was in the tunnel vision world of depression. Depression is real, with real side effects. No different from a physical illness, such as pneumonia. The sad part for many suffering from it, is that it robs you from seeing the big picture of life..and that is the danger. I have learned that all of life is a roller coaster…it is peaks and valleys and you have to ride through the valley before it will peak again. The sad part of depression is that you only see the valley and and don’t see any peaks on the horizon. This is the horrible symptom of the illness itself. At least when, you have pneumonia, you can identify you may have a fever or cough.
Sadly in 2010, my older brother, Doug, would also suffer at the fate of suicidal depression at 58. Leaving me, my mother, his two sons, and grandchildren, a devastating hole in our family again.
Suicidal depression and its symptoms are not as obvious as pneumonia is to its victims. The depression creates these devastating blinders that block out hope and the acknowledgement that things can get better. When you make a decision to end your life under this cloud, you are missing out on the whole picture of your life and there is no turning back. This is why it is so important to get help. Call your therapist, the Suicide Prevention Hotline (1-800-273-8255), or you can even call or go to an emergency room. Thousands of people do get their blinders removed with therapies and medications. It can be you. Choose to get help. So many people are feeling what you feel, but get the help they need and enjoy the rest of their lives. You can too!

4 Months

It has been over four months since my mother and best friend died. I miss her terribly, but I am getting on with my life. For some reason, the last two days I have been missing her more than ever and feeling a little blue. Blame it on the rainy weather I guess. I feel her presence fading from the house. I really don’t like it. Time is moving forward so fast and yet I would give anything to go back to my old life. My whole day was scheduled around her as her caregiver and it is so weird to not have that responsibility. I know I am starting to move on, and I only cry every other day now, but I have to fight wanting to live in a world that can never be… now that she is gone. She was the last member of my immediate family and I can’t believe sometimes that I am the only one left. I have always been a “big kid,” and even though I have taken on big responsibilities in life, I could still feel like a child while my mother was alive. It is time to grow up, and I fight that with all my being. I know I will always be a “kid at heart,” but I am the oldest person now in my family. I miss my daily interaction with her the most. While my partner is so loving, he just doesn’t talk much! Even after Mom suffered a stroke she was always going on about something, or getting into some project around the house. The house is so quiet now. I don’t like being here that much now. It is hard to believe how much one person could actually do to fill a house. She filled it. We were so close and we had been through so much together. I talk to other friends and they just didn’t end up having the relationship that I had with my parents. I think that we were just a little different than most. It must be the caregiver aspect that somehow changes your relationship forever. I think I feel perhaps a little how a parent might feel when they lose a child. I don’t know how my mother survived losing two of her three sons to suicide. I know it broke her heart, and her death has broken mine. Time is healing…I can feel it, but I carry an ache with me that I think will never go away. She touched so many while she was here, and I wish that everyone could have met her. She knew how to brighten a rainy day. It is raining now, and she is not here.