"I love you. Have the best day," were my dad's last words as he dropped me off at school on May 5, 2011. Little did I know moments like those would be cherished memories. You see, I was unaware that he was fighting a daily battle against his mental health. I discovered later on that my father had been quietly fighting a diagnosis of bipolar disorder and depression. Unfortunately, he became the fourth generation in his family to die by suicide, following his father, grandfather, and aunt.
Despite our loss, my mom did an excellent job of normalizing our family's story and never letting us feel ashamed of our grief. She taught us to honor our broken parts and to live our lives in a way that would make my dad proud. She also worked hard to create a space where it was okay to talk about our mental health and that sometimes our brains can be wired differently, just like my dad. She made us understand that there is never any shame in asking for help; sometimes, that is the bravest thing we can do.
After a few years post-loss, my family found support and comfort in advocacy work. My mother became involved with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, a non-profit organization that educates, funds research, holds community events, and more. She began participating in walks and organizing various events and trainings. It was powerful and inspiring to watch her share in large groups, to share her pain, and to listen to others share their stories. Eventually, she became the Chairperson for AFSP’s state chapter, which, in many ways, was instrumental in making sense of this tragic topic. I joined her in these efforts, volunteering at community walks and meeting people like me. I had felt so alone in this loss, but to see that other kids and even adults had lost a parent to suicide made me feel not so alone. During junior high and high school, I had the opportunity to go on a local morning show several times where I shared my story and talked about how this loss impacted me, talked about being a teenager, and the genuine struggles of talking about mental health and suicide prevention and education.
Over time, memories have begun to fade; I used to hear him when I would close my eyes and think of him. I wonder if I am like him. My mom tells me I embody much of his spirit, likes, and dislikes. I hear stories about him and go through his old pictures from when he was my age, and the traits that stood out about him are that he was patient, thoughtful, kind, and would do anything to help anyone, from what my Auntie and mom have said, he did that until the very end. As I grow up and think about the person I want to be, I think of my dad. These are the traits that I want to embody and share with the world both personally and in my career.
As I look forward, I want to take my deepest hurts and losses and use them for good; just because something painful happened does not mean it has to define me. In doing this, I want to walk alongside youth and their families who are navigating the road of suicide loss. Though it is complex and multilayered, being able to combine my education and experiences with this grief and be a support to others is the best and purest way to honor my dad and make an impact in this world.
Mental health has long been a taboo topic within my family for as long as I can remember. No one spoke of it, no one struggled with it, and no one ever reached out for help. My grandmother was shunned by our family due to her Bipolar II, and my mother constantly hid her depression.
On April 27th, 2023, my mother committed suicide, and it shook my family to the core. Everyone felt so displaced, lost, and confused as if we were trying to find our way through thick fog. I am still dealing with the repercussions of losing my only parent, my best friend, and the person I could tell everything. Her suicide has pushed me even further towards finding a career in mental health, and hopefully helping people who have struggled like me. Possibly helping those who struggled as my mom did.
The pain I experienced when I had to say goodbye to my mother far too early is something I never want anyone else to experience. If I can help just one person through a crisis, if I can help one person find the desire to live another day, I will feel successful. I will feel as if I have a purpose. I never want anyone to feel as if they don't matter, to feel as if they need to hide their true feelings, and I never want anyone to feel alone.
Having a career in mental health would enable me to help those who are dealing with feelings of self-harm, suicide, anger, embarrassment, and so much more. I would be able to help them, and hopefully help them through the struggle of dealing with mental health in such a dark world. I would be able to help them through their thoughts and guide them to a path that doesn't involve suicide.
Suicide and battles with mental health have become even more common in this day and age. I feel that my first-hand experiences with suicide, and my own battle with mental health would make me even more equipped for a job in the field of mental health. I would have these experiences that would make me far more relatable, and possibly a far more comfortable person to talk to. I know how daunting it can be to reach out for help, but having someone that truly understands what you're going through makes the task far less frightening.
Suicide has impacted me by taking away my best friend, my rock, and most importantly my mother. Suicide has impacted me by changing the dynamics of my family and displacing many of us. Suicide has also pushed me towards solidifying my choice of a career in mental health, and it has also shown me that everyone deserves help. It has taught me to always reach out, no matter how big or small your feelings are.
