I have written and asked over and over again, “Why was my love not enough to save my son, Tom?” And today the answer hit me. My love was not enough because mental illness is not about love. It is about biology. I am reminded of Amy Bleuel’s words, “It is a brain illness…” It is a physical illness which overtakes our bodies. Love is not enough to treat a broken bone or cancer or chronic pain or any other number of medical challenges we face. It is treatable, but can still be fatal. If Tom’s mental illness had been about love, he would still be alive.
© 2017
I hear exactly what you are saying. Although I still question it. It’s so hard to believe that I couldn’t have prevented it. It’s been 4 years.
I went and saw my son’s psychologist about a year after it happened and I remember crying saying to her I should have done more. I didn’t obviously do enough. It was my fault that he wasn’t here anymore. A mother’s job is to protect her kids. And she said to me Hayley, if he would’ve died from cancer would you still feel the same way? And if course my answer was no. I cannot control illness. And she said depression is just the same as having cancer. He could not control it. You could not control it.
Hearing that definitely helped. It made me feel less guilty. I will never feel completely free of guilt though, because I just should have known something. But it allowed me to breathe easier.
The Tuesday before my Brendan passed her was very sad. I was in the car with him and felt really bad for him. My heart was breaking. One thing I said to him was “You know I love you so much” and he said “I know but it doesn’t help”. I said many other things to cheer him up. If love could have kept him he would be here.
My husband died a year and a half ago and every day I have the same question…..Why?? I cannot wrap my head around it and I too wonder why my love and the love of his family was not enough. The guilt I feel is overwhelming and some days I feel like I’m drowning. My brain can now process it a little better, but my heart I fear never will. The nights are so lonely and long and sleep is a gift when I get any. I pray that no person ever has to feel the agonizing pain my family has endured and I pray for all other families who have gone through this horrible feeling of helplessness as my family has.
Hayley, as I sit in my kitchen reading your story, tears are coming down as if a down pour has opened up. Your story is so my story. My daughter too committed suicide, and like you I feel that I didn’t do enough, should have known and that the love I and my family had for her wasn’t enough. I am trying to understand the illness, yet it doesn’t lessen the pain of her loss, and the heaviness of the guilt. Reading your story gave me hope for road to recovery. My heart goes out to you. God bless 🙏. Thank you!
Thank you your words, they bring me comfort I feel that I failed in my primary roll as my son’s mother, that I didn’t give him the skills he needed to survive. I know that it was mental illness on a rational level, but emotionally I have to remind myself constantly of that fact. You have a beautiful name, my eldest is Hayley
My husband was also named Tom. We were together for 18 years. He suffered from mental illness and had bipolar disorder. I had to file for divorce because his spending was out of control, but we stayed best friends.
The day our divorce was finalized and I was moving he sent me a text to say “Take care I will miss you”. A few hours later I called to check on him and he ended his life right after the text. We had dinner the night before and I told him I would visit that weekend and we would talk. Its been 2 years and I have finally learned that there was nothing that I could do to save him. His illness killed him not me.
My husband died by suicide 2.5 years ago. I saw him suffer with depression for years so when they told me he was gone, one of my first reactions was relief for him. Soon after, my then 13 y.o. son also said the same thing and added that he felt relief for us as well as it was not easy to live with someone mired in unrelenting sadness.
It’s a wicked disease. I have learned to not say “took his own life” or “committed suicide” because that indicates that he chose to do this. After all, one does not say “he committed cancer.” He did not choose to suffer from major depression, it was just genetic bad luck. He fought hard against his illness—taking his meds, exercising, stopping drinking when he was in a depressive episode, researching. At his service, I said that I was not angry with him nor did I question why. I knew exactly why did it. I will love and miss him forever but I understand why he is not here.
A lot of great comments here. It’s nice to know we aren’t alone in our thoughts. And we tried…