My oldest son told us he has been seriously contemplating suicide in a text after some recent withdrawal and behaviour changes. He acknowledged struggling a few weeks back, but was vague and didn’t want to talk then.

After what felt like an intervention refusing him use of the car in the midst of a building crisis, which was palpably beginning prior to his statement, he has not spoken to or messaged my wife or I since telling us he wasn’t being admitted to a facility after his 72 hour observation. We know he is housed and safe, but concretely that is all, and I have to somehow find peace with that.

I’m trying to put on his shoes but I don’t know which way to walk. I keep seeing him as those bodies now. Hanging, overdosed, cut and bloodied. Falling. Assume the worst, hope for the best, right? I know I gassed the fire that night but I have two other minor children whose safety and wellbeing is still very much my business. It had to be. 

I don’t have the language for these feelings. We just wanted to talk. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. I just know I have to somehow.