The holiday season is approaching — too slowly for some of us and much too quickly for others. It’s likely a good number of us will enjoy the classic movie “It’s A Wonderful Life,” in which a man is assured of the meaningfulness of his being, this holiday season.
In honor of last month’s powerful Out of the Darkness walk for suicide awareness and prevention at the University of Maine, I would like to present a 21st century version, in which our protagonist wonders how things would have been if, instead of never being born, she had ceased to exist.
In the summer of 1986, our protagonist had finished her second year in a Ph.D. program on academic probation, clueless as to what she could do if her goal to become a college professor fell through. Then, one night she got a phone call from her divorced mother. Her father was in a coma and dying. Her uncle could not cope. It was up to her to get there before her dad died and ease his transition from one world to the next.
It was not an entirely new situation. When she was 11 her only sister had incurred severe brain damage from spinal meningitis. In the ensuing chaos and family disintegration she had somehow been expected to go from preteen to adult overnight. While still in high school, she had been the one expected to tell her sister about the impending divorce, to keep her father out of trouble when he had too much to drink and to take on a number of heavy responsibilities.
That weekend in 1986 was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
The weekend was a living nightmare. For 10 hours she sat in a room with her father and two others in their final hours. His last breath rasped a little after midnight, leaving her alone in a town where she knew no one but was expected to stay around to handle all the arrangements.
Back in Maine after this ordeal, she was not surprised to be unable to sleep, eat, take pleasure in even the activities that had given her the most joy. This was full-blown clinical depression, not just the blues, not something that would somehow blow over. It was, she felt, a normal reaction to the sudden loss of a parent under hellish circumstances.
Even though her friends tried to talk her out of seeking help, reassured her she was doing just fine and cautioned her to consider what other people would think, she sought help at her school’s counseling center.
Nearly three decades later she attended Out of the Darkness, thrilled to see how many people had openly gathered over a subject that had been taboo. She lay a white carnation in the river in memory of her cousin, who had killed himself on his father’s birthday, leaving behind three young children. She thought of the people who benefited from her still being around: her husband of 26 years, her three amazing grown children, her dear friends, the legions helped by her regular blood donations and community service on the local school committee, the local library and the community garden. It’s a wonderful life.
Yes, it’s mine.
Like many other people, I hit a point where life felt overwhelming and hopeless. Fortunately I had the stubbornness to seek out the help I needed. I was given the chance to step back from a cliff, to see other paths and possibilities. Things did get a whole lot better and included moments of total joy, the most wonderful of which were, without a doubt, holding my newborn babies.
It takes a village to prevent suicide. Learn the danger signs. Take time from posturing on social media to be really aware of those around you. Have the courage to make it your business if someone you care about is struggling. The life you save may be your friend’s, your spouse’s or your child’s.
It might even be your own.
Julia Emily Hathaway is the vice chair of the Veazie School Committee, a poet and a proud mother of three.