Suicide is only the Beginning...

Suicide rates are at their highest for the last 35years. While we

may understand the consequences for the one who meets this fate,

do we ever ask what it means for their loved ones?

Written by Kerry-Louise Barnaby

It was one of those moments; one of those

rare, unbelievable, “happens to other

people not you” moments. Your life

changes forever and nothing will ever be

the same. It’s a tunnel, and once you’ve

gone through it, there is absolutely no

turning back.

It was a normal Thursday night. The girl

of 15 was on the computer, while her

brother of 18 was watching TV. It was

7.30pm when their cat came crawling into

the living room followed by an agonising

cry. Their cat circled the living room

meow after despairing meow, before

finally collapsing in front of the fire. An

hour later...The front door opened, the

children’s grandparents walked in, and

everything changed...

This particular story, in truth, started just

after the girl was born. Her mum, a

Mental Health nurse, while helping others

battle depression, had been battling her

own demons for as long as she could

remember. Unfortunately, battles are not

always won by the side we would hope.

Everyone has their own views of suicide

and depression, of that I’m sure, but do we

ever think about the flip-side of that coin?

People will rant until they lose their voices

about suicide. Some believe it to be a sign

of great weakness, others of great strength

and others believe it is simply the sign that

someone has given up and cannot bear to

go on living in this world anymore – after

all, just as death comes with a flip-side, so

does living doesn’t it? While living may

be seen as the most natural and easiest

thing to do in this world, is it not too, the

hardest?

When someone is left feeling nothing but

hurt and empty, stuck in that dark, dank

room which, however hard they try they

cannot escape, what options do they have?

If you were left feeling desperate and

alone and like the whole world was against

you, please, just think...What would you

do?!

This was the case for the mother. She had

been battling depression for the best part

of 14 years. Along with depression comes

loneliness, isolation and sometimes,

alcohol dependencies and even eating

disorders, which we know are often linked

to people who feel so out of control, they

need to find something in their life which

they can have complete control over.

When the daughter was 12, her mum first

showed signs of, “giving up”. She took an

overdose. However, realising that she had

made a mistake, immediately called a

friend, who called an ambulance and came

straight over to the house. The mother got

to the hospital safely while the friend

offered a hand to the children. As I said,

we all deal with suicide and loss in our

own ways, while the daughter was a heart-

broken, tear-soaked, desperate mess eager

to go straight to the hospital to be with her

mum; the son was just angry. She had

always worn her heart on her sleeve, never

afraid to cry and never ashamed to let

people know what she was feeling. He, on

the other hand, rarely cried. He struggled

with emotions his whole life and in this

case, I believe he was scared, hurt and

angry. He couldn’t cope with it, so he

stayed at home and tried to convince

himself that nothing had happened; that

everything would be alright.

It was.

Their mum had come out of hospital, still

depressed but devastated by what she had

done. Although she was not “cured” she

managed to cope for the next few years.

Then, on December 31st 2002, her son’s

18th birthday, she realised that she couldn’t

cope any longer. She was admitted to

hospital and the children were sent to stay

with their uncle for a couple of days.

I think it is important to note here that, at

the time, none of the “adults” were being

honest to the young girl. She wasn’t really

sure what was going on, no-one told her

that her mum was attempting to end her

life. This knowledge was left for the girl

to discover one day when trying to find

something in her mother’s bedroom – the

last thing she expected to find was a

suicide note.

After all that had happened, how could

they let her find out how ill her mum really

was in that way? How did they expect a

15year old girl to deal with that

information on her own, her father had left

when she was a baby and her brother was

anything but emotional and caring at that

time. She was alone with no-one to talk

to, finally seeing things clearly, finally

seeing what was really going on...Her

mum wanted to die, she wanted it all to

end, she didn’t believe that she was good

enough a person to take care of her

children.

Lies, lies, lies. That’s all her life had been,

one HUGE lie. People trying to protect

her from pain when what they should have

been doing was being honest, caring and

letting the poor child know that they were

all there for her and that her mum was ill –

her mum loved her children.

The second attempt didn’t go down as well

with the children, as I said, the girl didn’t

really know the whole truth and the boy

was just angry, how could she do this to

him on his birthday of all days? When she

arrived home, there was that sort of

awkward silence among strangers. No-one

knew what to say. The girl felt it was her

responsibility to look after her mum, make

her better.

She managed to get her mum to agree to

get some help. So...In mid-January 2003

her mum went in to a Mental Health

hospital where she underwent

Electroconvulsive Therapy as well as

counselling and other talking therapies.

She wouldn’t drink unless it had Bacardi

in it and she wouldn’t eat. The girl went to

visit her mum once, she took her a bottle

of coke and some cup-a-soups hoping that

it would help – it didn’t.

It’s ironic that just as her mum finally

decided to get help, it was too late.

One Sunday morning the girl woke up to

see her nan’s face staring back at her – Her

mum had been rushed to King’s College

Hospital, London. The children were

taken to see her in the ICU. Anyone who

has ever been in to an ICU, I’m sure will

tell you that it is a place where hope has

died. A hole in the world where it’s hard

to breathe let alone find any way of

believing that your loved one will ever

come out of it alive. To see a parent, or a

loved one in an ICU, on life support

machines is hard to describe. It’s

devastating, heart-breaking.

The girl could barely breathe through the

sobs and the tears streaming down her

face, but she had made a promise to

herself. She would not be one of those

people who said, “If only they had known

how much I loved them”. So, somehow,

she found the strength to utter those four

words, “I love you mum” before

collapsing.

They were told then and there that there

was a 90% chance. A 90% chance that she

would die, so they should start preparing

for the worst.

The children clung on to that 10% hoping,

praying.

So we’re back to that Thursday night.

That moment, when at 8.30pm on 3rd

February 2003, their grandparents came in,

and no words were needed. No words

could change what had happened. All the

children could do, was break-down and

cry. Now, they really were alone.

It’s been seven years since that moment.

The girl managed to get her life together,

and try to move on, believe that everything

happens for a reason. Everything was

going well, until she suffered a back

problem which has completely changed

the direction of her life. She has been

battling it for over 2years with still no

diagnosis. She is lost. She has been given

too much time to think and I believe that it

has only been in the past few months that

she has come to realise that what happened

to her mum is real. Her mum isn’t there to

guide and support her; she isn’t there to

provide a hug when she feels like

everything is going wrong.

It’s been seven years and the girl still can’t

listen to “The Circle of Life” (the song her

mum requested for her funeral one care-

free day when they were listening to

music, without it ever occurring to the girl

that she might actually need to know that

piece of information). It’s been seven

years and she still can’t look at letters she

has saved that her mum had written to her.

It’s been seven years, and that girl still

doesn’t know how to deal with the loss.

She is still not allowed to talk about it with

the family, so she just doesn’t talk to them.

It’s been seven years and she still doesn’t

know how she feels about it. Did her

mum, “give up” or did she find the

ultimate strength and sacrifice herself

because she truly believed it was best for

her children? She still doesn’t know if she

is sad or angry. The loss never goes away,

and the feelings never seem to disentangle

themselves, they are all intertwined,

maybe one can’t be sad without being a

tiny bit angry too...How would I know

this? Because that girl was me.