This is Our Story
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be set adrift in a small raft, alone on a sea of dark, murky waters, not knowing where you would end up or even if you would end up anywhere? Battered by waves and weather, not knowing if you would be rescued or drift forever? Not knowing if the sun would be there for you in the morning or if the moon would stay up with you at night? Imagine, hoping, praying, pleading to survive or hoping, praying, pleading to die? This describes my son Joel’s journey through the hell he experienced.
It is also my journey. Being set adrift, navigating an ocean of uncertainty, emotions so deep, so vast, so raw that they have no beginning and no end, changeable as the tides, all controlling the trip and the ultimate destination. My body along only as a passenger, clinging to the sides of the raft to keep from falling out and being swallowed up by this seemingly bottomless ocean. I’m pulled forward and I’m pulled backward. But, I am healthy, my son is mentally ill. Thus, I have significantly more control.
When my son died, I felt like a part of me died also. So much of me was tied into who he was and who he should have become. His ocean of emotions, his ups and downs became the ebbs and tides of my own. His choices affected mine. His mind and thoughts dominated numerous moments. His time often was spent fighting his thoughts. Even in death, his choices have affected my life’s direction. My successes have become blunted. My path and who I am has been altered.
I believe one of the hardest things in life for most of us to experience is the death of a child. As parents, we never expect our children to die before we do. And with the death of my 31-year-old son Joel, there is the additional feeling of a stoppage: an end-of-the-line feeling that is inescapable. All my hopes, all the help and education did not save Joel from Joel. As a mother, the death of my son was overwhelming, horrifying, sadness beyond expression, grief that promised to bury me with him if I allowed it. And then, there is anger that has no outlet. All the efforts to help Joel, all the time, all the talks did not save my son. If not for my instincts as a survivor and a fighter, his death might have been the end for me as well. I embraced Joel. We joined hands in healing. My days were consumed by helping Joel in one way or other. Now, it was over and there was no more research, no more education, no more phone calls and no more Joel as I knew him.
The grief cycle began. We addressed guilt, pain, denial, finality, suffering, deserving and the realization that there was no turning back. Healing, in accordance with the dictionary definition, does not exist. Experience serves to remind us of our traumatic feelings. Life in an instant was changed permanently. There are numerous steps to climb to move forward. Each baby step is a giant step and leads to new steps to climb. My grief is similar to the grief and loss that my son experienced while living as a mentally-ill person, who is suicidal.
Why he did not inherit my strength, my will to live, my fighting spirit, I do not know; or maybe he did because he was able to stay here all the time he was on this Earth despite his inner pain. Joel could not be alone with himself. He fought for 31 years and, in the last two years he engaged in numerous activities, therapeutic programs and support systems. By becoming so cause-oriented he helped others, but he didn’t know how to overcome himself.
What I do know is that the world was robbed of a brilliant mind, a creative and gentle spirit, a gifted writer, a humanitarian who loved and gave to others more than he loved himself, a special man-boy who I will miss and love forever.
This is my story – a story of a mother’s journey through the light and the darkest moments of life. This is Joel’s story in order to help others to move beyond the depths of hell into a life that is worthwhile. It is to help families to understand and to help survivors find purpose without their loved one.
Hopefully, our story will shed light on the underlying issues of suicide. There are environmental and societal influences. There are serious, gripping, life threatening concerns that affect every area of life. Through my own personal experience with my son and his mental-illness and my own “recovery” from his death, through knowledge, support, research and belief, we hope to help others who have or will experience the suicide of someone close to them. It may be a child, a sibling, a spouse or a friend. All of us will experience the process of grief in our own way and in our own time.
In our story, while there is great pain, there are treasured moments of joy and revelations. I have come to appreciate the fact that Joel survived thirty-one years. Gratitude takes over for the honor of his request that I work with him. Helping my son day-by-day was a saving grace. For me, it was a deeply-involved experience of emotional trauma and in-depth bonding.
You will enter Joel’s deepest expressions of love and torment. You will have access to numerous tools to work with for yourself and your loved ones. You will experience the specific tools I put into action today in order to move forward and to work through the grief process.
You will experience a journey through our feelings and thoughts. You will enter Joel’s deepest expressions of love and torment. Joel was not an alcoholic or a drug addict. He was a vegetarian, body builder and an environmentalist. He was consumed with being mentally-ill and ultimately the disease called “suicide”. Joel was frightened of going insane and living the rest of his life in an institution.
I write this book to bring awareness of our deepest thoughts. In that awareness I trust that there will be significantly more understanding and a greater respect for this disease. Those who are suicidal need to be heard. They are in great pain, just as cancer can bring forth pain. Their minds are in a sea of darkness. But, with acceptance we can begin to address this issue openly and have more and more breakthroughs of compassion and further understanding. Joel’s and my experience hopefully will save more lives and help people to live life successfully. We are peeling the layers of a cancer called suicide that is growing.
While suicide is an end-all, it is not an end-all for everyone. Many suicidal persons live and thrive. The fact that Joel died does not mean that all the support and efforts he put forth were not important and instructive. They could be the catalyst that inspires another person to live and move forward. There are many Joel’s out there swinging on the limb from life to death. Some will live because we touched them in a way we do not understand.
I am not a doctor, nor do I pretend to be. That my son did not receive the miracles I expected brings the height of sadness. I wanted him to be here and healthy. I am a mother who wants to transform one of the most horrendous, misunderstood experiences that can happen to a parent. My goal is to bring further awareness of what it is like to be suicidal and a parent working with a suicidal child through further information, education and by sharing my journey with my son.
If we can come to recognize our value as sacred beings and value those plagued by suicidal thoughts, then we can transmit these thoughts to others. We can foster dignity beyond what has been experienced before. Those of us dealing with the disease of suicide live in a closet that is slightly ajar. It’s a world of secrecy, even though it’s better today than ever before. It’s time to pull back the veils and squarely look into the face of suicide on a far greater level. We need to fully and freely give compassion to those afflicted by this disease and those torn apart by the deaths caused by its wrath. Our goals are vast. Much has been accomplished, but the journey is long…
I trust that you will benefit from taking this journey with Joel and me.
