Last Night.....

Last night my son slit his wrist.

Writing those words, seeing them in black and white, takes my breath away.

The cut was horizontal, not near an artery, superficial, and required no stitches. 

We have struggled for the past 2 years to help our teen-aged son manage his depression and anxiety.  These illnesses are as real as any physical ailment, they simply attack a part of our bodies that is still very much a mystery to modern medicine.

This event is the latest in what feels like an unending season of crisis in our lives.

Health problems, financial worries, the loss of my husband's father.  All of these things seem to pile on my heart and weigh it down until it feels like I am in a permanent state of emergency management.

But of all of our struggles, this battle with depression that my son has fought valiantly, is what I want the world (or at least our corner of it) to see.

See, the feeling I have been fighting since last night is one of guilt.

What did I do wrong?  What, as his mother, did I do (or fail to do) to cause this?  I am too hard on him? Not hard enough? Do I hug him enough?  Do I give him enough freedom?  Or too much freedom?

But what some sweet friends, and God's word, and a well-time post by one of my favorite bloggers reminded me of today is that depression is a disease and I have as much to do with it's symptoms as I do if it were a cancer or broken bone.

They also reminded me that before he was my son, he was God's.  And God is already working on this. He is there in the hospital room with my son. He is here in our home, calming and comforting my family. He is watching over my sweet boy and protecting his life and soul, even as my son wants nothing more than to give up on the life God gave him.

I am not sharing this for the sake of garnering pity for our situation, although I do covet your prayers for our family. 

I am sharing this in the hope that perhaps one person will read this and know they are not alone in their fight against mental illness.

I am sharing this int he hope that one mama will read this and know, if only for a moment, that she is not to blame for her child's struggle with depression. 

I am sharing this in the hope that someone may know that there is another option.

Suicide is not a choice, it is not a commitment. Suicide is the result of a terminal disease. 

www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org
1-800-273-8255

Blessings,
Meri