A Mother’s story – September Suicide Awareness Month

This month is Suicide Awareness Month. This week we hear from a skilled clinician who has also personally experienced the loss of a child through suicide. Here is her story.

Hello, my name is Melinda Switzer, and I am an LPC working for the Children’s

Advocacy Center in Smith County, Tyler, Texas. I am EMDR certified, and it is one of

my favorite modalities to work with. In honor of suicide awareness month, I wanted to

share my personal experience as a suicide survivor (meaning I survived my son’s death

by suicide.)

For some reason, I always thought that I might lose a child, and it started when my

grandmother lost her 56-year-old daughter to murder-suicide by her husband. I

remember hurting so badly for my grandmother, my daddy, my cousins, and every

member of our family who loved our Aunt Lynn so much.

I also remember my experiences with suicide when I was a Paramedic. I saw many

ages anywhere from 12 to 90, and I always thought the same thing: this is someone’s

child, grandchild, mother, father, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, grandparent, cousin,

nephew, niece, friend, and so on. I knew someone would be receiving the worst news

ever soon and I would always say a quick prayer for them. The worst part was telling

the family members that there was nothing we could do and seeing the devastation in

their eyes. I look back and see what God put in my path to help prepare me for my

future tragedy. However, I had never experienced anything like what I experienced on

July 4, 2016, at 9:37 a.m.

My youngest son, my blue-eyed, blonde-haired baby boy, at the age of 32, had taken

his life. He had suffered from depression and anxiety and self-medicated with

prescription and illegal drugs. Matthew joined the Navy, right after high school and was

stationed in Florida. He loved Florida, the beaches, the girls, the nightlife, everything

about it, but mostly, he loved that he could go to any “doc in the box” and get any

medication in almost any amount that he wanted to help take his pain away. I was

appalled at the list of medications he sent me from his clinic records. I believe he

became addicted to prescription drugs, and I encouraged him to come home where he

had the support of his family.

During the 7 years he was here with us, he secured a job as a quality control inspector

for an Oil and Gas Company out of Houston, purchased a home, and was able to save

money. On the other side of the coin, he became addicted to prescription drugs again

(he had beat his addiction to drugs and alcohol himself before leaving Florida and

returning to Texas). Things were good for the first five years he was home. During the

last two years he was here he learned that he could purchase any drugs he wanted off

the dark web and had them mailed to his home. His girlfriend left him after she sent me

a video of him crawling on the floor after overdosing. I asked her if she had called an

ambulance, and she said no, that he did not want her to and he would sleep it off. She

then decided to leave because she could no longer deal with what had been happening,

which she had also taken part in. This was six weeks after I had taken him to a new

psychiatrist, and he agreed to try some medication for his mental health issues and

promised he would not self-medicate with illegal drugs to give the medications time to

work. I later learned that he only stopped the illegal drugs for three weeks.

I went to his house the day before he ended his life and begged him to let me get him

some help. He refused, stating he could not be locked up somewhere. He was cleaning

out his house; his cabinets were empty, and he was putting everything on the curb for

the trashman. He was not himself; he was screaming and cursing and attempting to

tear the house apart. He stopped for about 30 seconds, came over, hugged me tight,

and told me he loved me. At that moment, I saw my child, and then he was gone again;

back to tearing up everything and ranting and raving. He told me he was moving back

to Florida. I knew he was looking for drugs, but I chose to believe that he probably was

going back to Florida. He kept telling me he was okay and that I just needed to go

home and let him get some sleep. I was afraid to do that because I did not want him to

do what I thought he might do. So, I stayed until he went to bed. He died by suicide the

next morning. That is my very abbreviated story, but what I want you to know is how

going through my own mental health crisis about three years ago, exactly 5 years after

his death, to the day, led me to where I am today.

I ended up going into an outpatient program for help. I completed the program and went

back to work after 12 weeks. I was doing much better and believed that I could now

move forward. I had a decision to make: I could either lay down and die with Matthew,

or I could make good out of what Satan used for evil. I chose the latter and enrolled in

graduate school to become an LPC to help others through the same stresses I

experienced. I was beginning to feel some peace again, but only for a brief time. I

returned to the hospital two more times as an in-patient for generalized anxiety for a

total of 17 days. It was hands down, the second worst experience of my life.

I could now relate to my clients and understand their needs. I could navigate what not to

say to someone who had just lost a family member to suicide. “I know how you feel, no

you don’t,” “This was God’s plan, no it wasn’t,” You can always have more children, no I

can’t, nor do I want to,” “At least you still have other children, I don’t have my son,” “God

will make good out of this, no He won’t, I get to decide that, this will determine if I live or

die.” “God will not give you more than you can handle; sometimes He does.” The

answer to these questions is there is no right answer for everyone, those were just my

answers. The words that meant the most to me were, “I have no words; I am just going to sit here with you” and “My heart breaks with yours, and I am praying for you.” Education of the grief process is paramount for these survivors to help them prepare for unexpected grief and better prepare for days ahead that will be tougher than others.

There are so many unanswered questions, guilt, and shame (yes, guilt and shame,

suicide is looked down on by many, due to the stigma, there is also the shame of not

being able to protect your child from themself). There is so much hurt, jealousy, and

feelings of incompetence as a parent, even as a human being; blame must be placed

somewhere, right?

Those who physically find their loved ones have a different experience than those who

did not. I did not see my son, and I am still grateful that I decided against it. I did not

want to remember him that way. I have found that for some of my clients who did find

their loved ones, the struggle seems to be greater. With other clients, seeing the loved

one and saying last goodbyes were comforting for the client; everyone is different.

EMDR is excellent for those clients who did not have that choice, as well as the ones

who did. There are many stressful moments in suicide. The absence of weddings,

graduations, no grandchildren, dreams that have all been shattered, and other missed

opportunities in life for the client’s loved one, as well as themselves, is a constant

reminder of life before the loss and life after the loss for suicide survivors. Survivors

many times also think that it would be better if they could just die and be with their loved

one. I have never had any thoughts like that in my life until I lost Matthew, but I kept

thinking what if I can do some good for prevention and that became my drive.

The events that helped me the most were what we did as a family to honor

him—donating to the homeless twice a year annually with the Beauty from Ashes

Project, as well as sitting on the Out of the Darkness Community Walk Planning

Committee for the past 7 years, donating the Memory Wall to the walk, and lastly

becoming a therapist and starting a private practice named Beauty for Ashes Trauma

Treatment and Therapy in memory of my boy.

Matthew’s death was not in vain and served a purpose to help others. Matthew was a

sweet-spirited child, and I have always referred to him as the child of my heart; we were

very close, he was the child and adult who validated me as a good mother. He would

never miss an opportunity to tell me he loved me, and even in the end, God gave me

that thirty seconds of seeing my Matthew. I would never take anything for those brief

moments, and then he went right back to whatever, and whomever was controlling his

body on that awful weekend, it was not my sweet Matthew.