The Day Everything Changed

The Day Everything Changed

Submitted by NCSS Staff Member

 

There are three details from that day that remain painfully vivid in my mind’s eye.

The first is how warm it was outside.

It was the sort of spring day that compels a person to keep slogging through the bitterest of winter weather. Daffodils were blooming in the backyard. Canada geese were flying north in massive V formations. Tree branches glowed with green iridescence as leaves began to blossom.

It was a perfect day. What could possibly go wrong?

The second detail is how powerless I felt when the phone call came from my teenager’s counselor.

“It’s not something I think they’ll act on,” the counselor said, “but you need to know that your child is struggling with suicidal thoughts. Is there any way you can join us to talk about it?”

As my world turned upside down, I dropped everything and ran to my car. At the counselor’s office, I sat and did my best to listen, keeping my growing panic tamped down as much as possible. There’d be time to freak out later. I had to be present for my child. All I wanted in the world was to hug my kid and say it was ok. But it wasn’t, and this wasn’t something I could solve. All I could do was be as supportive and loving as possible.

The suicidal ideation my child was dealing with was something that couldn’t be truly dealt with by anyone else but them.

The final vivid detail from that day was how dangerous everything in the world became.

I was told to lock up all the medicine in the house, even the stuff that might seem innocuous like vitamins and melatonin. Any medication my kid was taking needed to be kept away and doled out by me.

“And what about weapons?” the counselor asked. “Things that can be used as weapons. Are there any in the house?”

“No. None.”

“No kitchen knives or box cutters? Scissors? Razors? Tools in the garage?”

“Well, there’s … yeah. Of course. But you asked about weapons. Like guns. Those things aren’t …”

As I said it, I realized the definition of “weapon” that we were working with. Not just something someone would necessarily use to hurt someone else, but what a person could use to harm themselves. I went home, gathered it all up, and it all got put away. The counselor said my child indicated they were adverse to methods that involved inflicting pain on themselves, but we couldn’t be too safe.

The next few days were tough. I wasn’t sure just what to say or do to be the most helpful. I walked on eggshells, but I noticed that my kid was doing the same. It wasn’t just my status quo that was rocked from its foundation. They’d become incredibly vulnerable, revealing such intimate and scary thoughts. I did my best to meet them where they were.

I’m not sure what those days were like, weather-wise. Could’ve been as gloomy and gray as I felt inside, or the sun might have blazed away in all its glory. But after a little while, I noticed the weather again, and so did my child. And it got easier for both of us to notice the beauty, even on the not-so-pleasant days.

After some time had passed and we’d both worked through our experiences, I asked about how I did that day and the days that followed. Was I good parent? Could I have done more? Should I have done less? Was my helplessness as obvious to my child as it was to me?

What they told me was profound.

What mattered most that day, my kid said, was that I showed up, and I honored their situation. I avoided getting overly dramatic or being accusatory. When we got home, I didn’t coddle or hover. And apparently I did a better job of maintaining a normal routine around the house than I thought.

These seemingly simple things meant the world to my child and started us on a path to healing and moving forward.

Of course, what is done and what is thought can be very different. In the days that followed talking with the counselor, nothing in the house was beyond suspicion. Should I lock up the drinking glasses? What if they broke one for cutting? I googled every spice in the kitchen to see if there was any way they could be overdosed on. I wondered if I should put the extension cords away, just to rule them out as an option.

I had to set limits, though. I didn’t want my kid to think that I viewed their suicidal ideation as more powerful than the familial bonds we’d created over the years. I’m glad I did this, based on what we later discussed. Going to such extremes would have made the situation even more difficult for them.

One other topic my child and I talked about later on was that they noticed how I made sure to take care of myself during this time. I sought my own counseling to process thoughts and emotions. To make sure I was doing as much as possible to help my kid. I couldn’t provide effective help, though, unless I took care of myself. This made an impression on them, and it made it a bit easier to open up the next time suicidal ideation reared its frightening head.

And it makes it easier to find and remember the silver linings that exist even on the darkest of days.

For more information, please feel free to call Northwestern Counseling & Support Services at 802-524-6554.