When my child killed himself, the first thing I thought about– when I could, in fact, think– was that he left because of something I didn’t do right. How crummy a mother was I that my child checked out on me? I saw it as a failure at the one job that meant most to me in the world, ushering my child to successful adulthood.
When I look back and start to beat myself up, something that doesn’t happen as often as it once did, I have to remember I didn’t know then what I know now. And I can’t … Read more...