Faith
My faith is that which sustains me and from it I draw strength.

“I am a “Sister in Sympathy Supporting You”

For assuredly, I say to you, if you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.
(Matt 17:20)

“Simply A Mother”
By, Donna Marie ©

I am not anyone special. I hold no degrees or special titles. I’m simply a mother who lives with a nightmare no parent ever wants to encounter. My twenty year old son was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder at the age of eighteen. By the time he reached his 20th birthday, his diagnosis was considered Schizzo-effective of the bipolar type, and that November he completed suicide by means of gunshot wound to his head.

From the moment I had learned of his illness until his death, two years lied in between that time frame. I tried to learn as much as I possibly could, but it was impossible. For whatever reason, my mind could not consume all that stood before me. Each step taken was a challenge; not only for myself, but for my children as well. A challenge we were unequipped to handle.

I recall reading a great deal of overwhelming medical information about this bipolar disorder and manic depression. I talked and listened to many people concerning this illness, but never; never did I hear the words that this could be a fatal illness. Why? Why didn’t I know that?

I hated watching my son and daughter’s face each time the term mental illness passed through our ears. I died inside with every redundant “Mental Illness” stated. The stigma it carried was enough to make anyone want to hide their secret.

I tried to refrain from using that term referring to it as a chemical imbalance in the brain. In some way I suppose I was hoping it wouldn’t sound as frightening to my children; or maybe even me. It was in no way out of shame; it was to protect them from some of their fears in hopes that they would be more open to learning and understanding this condition. To this day, I don’t know if it was the right or wrong thing to do, but I still hate hearing and even saying those two words.

Someone passed this on to me not so long ago: They are words from a surviving mother to suicide. I’m told, “You never find closure with a suicide, what you find, through help, is a place where you are at peace with it.”

I don’t know if I will ever find that place, but I do hope that God uses me as a purposeful instrument willing to share all I have and am in order to make a difference.

To be a voice that too often goes unheard; and be given an opportunity to reach out and crawl into the darkness with another so that they no longer have to feel alone. This is my quest and I believe my purpose in having to be among the unwanted survivors.

Losing a child to suicide has not been a curse nor has it been a blessing, and it plainly was not in my plan, but I must hold on to my faith in God that He steers me into the direction of His path. Without it, (faith) we would never have hope. I wanted and still sometimes desire to give up rather than let go and let God. And then, I see His light beaming within the eyes and heart of my surviving daughter.

No, I may never find that place where peace and suicide intertwine, but I have come to understand. I live it (suicidal thoughts) in my own sadness and depression. It is my guilt that will probably keep me from that peaceful place others may reach in time. I have, however, come to peace with admitting my private battle and I am willing to be a voice without having to hide from its truth.