Why? they weep; Why? they cry; How could he have done this to us? they say;  How could he be so selfish? they state.

They hold on to each other and cry, and with each tear another question, for each question another answer, that isn’t good enough. Yet every day in America almost 85 people commit suicide according to this site; http://www.suicideoutreach.org/about_suicide

I was watching a TV news show, either Dateline or 20/20 the other night, when confronted with this comment from the show; (paraphrasing)

“Your father – he didn’t love us enough, so he killed himself, and isn’t coming home anymore”

Wow! How would you like being 10 years old, or younger and hear news like that? Then hearing news like that from your mother – would never be good.

Depression, or mental health issues can develop into very serious health problems, at the very extreme end of depression, comes suicide. One out of every 20 people end up experiencing some form of mental health issues in their life, 50 thousand in a million people, you do the math. There are reports that it is much higher than that because of those that can’t afford to seek medical help.

You ask; “So where are you going with this, we already know about this situation”

At the age of 30 I was diagnose with Depression, (a genetic malady) then a year or less later the additional label of Bi-Polar Manic was added.

It was during that first year when I mentally reached a place in my mind that I will call “The calm before the storm” (a stolen cliché). That was, for me a very peaceful mental state just day or so before I reached for the pills, this was no spur of the moment transition. There wasn’t a specific day planned for the execution of me only that in my self-talk I was making plans, it became like – planning a trip to some faraway place. The acceptance of this plan came far too simply, which now seems all too scary.

I never made the attempt because my family knew me well enough to see me going through a major transformation, and intervened. What they saw was not the me they knew, not that I wasn’t there – sometimes – just that it wasn’t the underlying me. I was institutionalized for a night until sufficiently lobotomized by drugs. Then I was moved to a local hospital, where I stayed for a couple more weeks until all the medications had stabilized. It wasn’t then that I realized what had happened; it was later in life, many years later when I came to understand the steps that lead up to that moment in which I almost ended my own life.

*** This is the end of PART 1. I feel that if there are to many words in a post that you’ll stop reading, and I am not done, and there isn’t much more. But I think that the words that take a person to this place need stating out loud, and hopefully someone else, like I was can be saved too.

*** Beware of my problem with “Passive Voice” a english problem that I have while writing.