Published: September 8, 2023
What do you truly live for? If you’ve ever grappled with suicidal thoughts, the answer may surprise you.
I remember the first time I lost a friend to suicide. I was just 15, participating in a school play. He was the star, and even though I wasn’t his leading lady, we shared countless moments backstage, chatting, playing cards, and occasionally flirting. I never suspected he was struggling; his life seemed so perfect. Our performances were set for Tuesday and Thursday, yet he took his life on Wednesday—a day that remains etched in my mind.
I replayed the days leading up to that tragedy, trying to understand. He was tall, athletic, and charming, adored by peers. It baffled me that someone with so much going for him would resort to such a drastic measure.
Years later, I came to comprehend the complexity of suicidal thoughts myself. It can afflict anyone, even those who appear to have it all together. Behind the façade of a smiling face can lurk a profound darkness, convincing individuals that they have nothing to live for.
After the birth of my second child, I found myself in the depths of severe postpartum depression. With two babies under two, both demanding my attention, I felt overwhelmed by guilt for not being able to meet their needs. The lack of sleep and hormonal shifts pushed me to the brink.
One afternoon, while struggling to engage with my toddler, everything fell apart. Frustrated, he threw a block at his baby brother, and in a moment of sheer desperation, I tossed it back. It hit him, and as he wailed, I cradled him, overwhelmed by guilt. I berated myself, convinced I was a terrible mother who didn’t deserve children.
That night, for the first time, I contemplated taking my own life. I believed my children would be better off without me, but a flicker of hope remained—something deep within that kept me tethered to life. I couldn’t articulate it then, but over the years, I’ve come to recognize it. While I was willing to die for my children, I also realized I wanted to live for them, despite the struggles of guilt and inadequacy.
Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they’d die for.” I discovered that, while others might care for my children, no one could love them the way I did. My imperfections were part of my journey, and I was determined to ensure my children felt loved.
More than ten years have passed since then, and while I’m still not a perfect parent, I see my sons thriving. They’ve taken on responsibilities, like keeping track of their homework and cooking meals. They’ve learned to advocate for themselves, even when I slip up. It’s heartening to realize that my flaws have, in some ways, shaped their strengths.
As they approach their teenage years, I’m witnessing the remarkable young men they’re becoming, and I’m grateful to be part of their lives.
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In summary, the journey of motherhood can be fraught with challenges, including mental health struggles. Yet, recognizing our worth and the love we give can be a powerful motivator to keep going.