Dear Suicide

dear suicide

For years you stalked my son’s brain, took it hostage, lied to him and made him feel worthless and undeserving of life. At first he was frightened and confused but unwilling to tell us how much he hurt.

Because when you deposit pain you inject shame. Is that some kind of self-preservation on your part?

Charles didn’t understand because he didn’t know who you were, how unrelenting and convincing you could be, or how that you’d come back over and over to torture him. Over time, you wore him down until he was desperate for solutions. He thought he found it when he first started using — marijuana and alcohol at first, graduating to stronger drugs and finally heroin.

He took that first hit and felt good for the first time in ages. How could something that made him feel that good be wrong? You were quick to endorse that logic and he was able to escape for a short while. You were patient and knew it would make him even more vulnerable to your lies. You salivated at the opportunity–your recent success at taking young lives having fed your greedy ego.

You are not a solution but you made Charles think you were. He put pictures up of family on every wall of every bed he slept in to remind him why he needed to stay. He didn’t want to die damn it. But when he went through withdrawal that last time, the walls wouldn’t hold hope, and his resolve frayed at the edges when I failed to recognize obvious signs of suicide.

I know now. I didn’t know then. But then shock and surprise are your specialty.

You are often invisible, covered by the mask of a clown. Charles wore that disguise and few saw the pain behind it including me. And in an ugly twist of fate, you finally got your way. And I hate you for it.

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Published by

Anne Moss Rogers

I am the mother of two boys and the owner of emotionally naked, a site that reached a quarter million people in its first 18 months. I am a writer and professional public speaker on the topics of suicide, addiction, mental illness, and grief and my book, Diary of a Broken Mind, will be published in the fall. I lost my youngest son, Charles, 20, to suicide June 5, 2015. As talented and funny as Charles was, letting other people know they matter was his greatest gift. And now the legacy I try and carry forward in my son's memory. Professional Speaker Website

2 thoughts on “Dear Suicide”

  1. I’m struggling to find the words to describe how I feel about this post. “I love it” sounds wrong for the topic, but there’s so much wisdom and insight here. It’s a call for all of us to be alert to the patience of suicide. Brilliant, as always, Anne Moss.

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