My Story - Anonymous
Christmas 2001 was supposed to be the beginning of great things to come. A good year, lots to celebrate and be thankful for. I had extremely high hopes for a close friend; he had been released from prison two months before Christmas. He was home, sort of.
My friend had grown up in rough neighborhoods, endured years of maltreatment and most forms of abuse you could never imagine. He was young, tall, dark, and handsome. He had been in and out of trouble with out local Tribal Police Department for years. Every social serivce agency knew his family. Every social serivce agency I believe, without a doubt, wanted to help his family. He fell through the cracks. He came from a large family and being the oldest sibling, he tried his best to protect all of his younger siblings. He was a very loyal friend. He was quite charming and over the years, caught the eye of numerous yound ladies in our community. I was proud to be his friend; a close friend, nothing more, nothing less.
He didn't do so well in school, dropped out before he made it to high school and spent most days in our local juvenile detention center. He was the most street smart person I had ever crossed. He spent a very short amount of time in the local child welfare systems, always managing to run away. The more they looked for him, the more time invested in looking for him, the farther and faster he ran.
My friend fell into a lifestyle of gangs, fast money, drugs and alcohol at a very young age. I don't recall a time I ever saw him drive, and wonder if he had ever learned to drive. He was incarcerated for much of his young life and I really don't think he ever learned to drive a car. We both had a unique facination with old classic cars and restoration projects.
I his teenage years, my friend had numerous relatives and friends he could turn to as he ran from home to home, doing everything in his power to stay away from incarceration and the child welfare system.
As our friendship grew, I came to realize what great potential he had but during a night of heavy drinking, my friend made one of the biggest mistakes he would ever regret. he broke into a home, attempting to rob a local, small time drug dealer. He attacked the homeowner and assaulted him. It was a terrible assault. one that landed my friend in federal holding. He everntually went on to be sentenced to a few years in a federal detention center.
I had a lot of hope and prayed often for my friend. I saw and knew a side I don't think anyone ever took the time to get to know. My friend could be so charming, so fun, so inoccent, so child like. A Lost Boy. My friend was a Lost Boy and I was determined to help him find himself, find his way, and become a productive member of our community. What could be done to help him overcome his "Peter Pan" complex.
He was released from prison about a year and a half after going to prison. I supported him in his efforts to abide by his paroled release. He had two children but had separated from their mother prior to his release. He loved his children dearly. We talked about them all of the time. They were the one reason he felt he could turn his life around for. I ensured he saw his children as often as possible, making the 3 and a half hour drive to the corrections facility with his son, daughter, and girlfriend as well as my own children and husband.
He had not been released from prison for more than a month when landed himself back in the custody of Tribal Authorities. Although extremely disappointed, I was determined to get him to listen. He didn't have to learn the hard way. He had a safe home to come to, he had the emotional, finanical and emotional support of my family and his. His extemely impulsive behaviors had caught up to him once again. It was anything he couldn't handle. He had been in the same Tribal Jail so many times, it was like a slumber party with old friends. He even said so himself.
So when he did the unthinkable Christmas Eve, no one could have been more heartbroken than me. As so many have done before him, he hung himself in the Tribal Jail. Christmas Eve, he had called my home a number of times. On that particular evening, I was in a dissagreement with my husband, and he would not allow me to answer my friend's calls. I knew my friend had been calling because he left numerous message on my answering machine. I will never get the sounds of him calling over and over and over again. All to be told by my husband, "Haven't you done enough for him? You care more about him that you do me. you do more for him that you do your own children!"
How could I have been so blind. Years before, my husband and I found ourselves separating due to infidenitely and irreconsiable differences. During my friends federal incarceration, we wrote letters back and forth every other day. There was not a thing he did not know about me, and there was not a thing about him, that I did not know. During the difficult period in my marriage, my friend did everything in his power to get my to re-consider my choice to leave my husband. As years have passed, I reflect and wonder, how it is very possible the emotional intimacy we shared had a negative impact on my marriage, even though we had no intention of hurting my marriage. It wasn't ever a sexually intimate relationship; it was loyal friendship with a lot of positive communication, compromise, and understanding. All that was missing in my marriage.
Somehow, my friend managed to get my to consider all of the aftermath in what would occur and how my children would feel, if I chose to leave my husband; because of my friend, I stayed in the marraige. Now this. How could my husband be so ignorant, so selfish? after all of the pain, indifference, embarassment, humiliation, and resentment; I stayed in this marriage because my friend convinced me, there is no pain like the pain a child endures as a result of divorce. How foolish I was to stay. How foolish I was to think things would just work themselves out.
Initially all I could do was blame myself; for the crumbled marriage and later, my friend's suicide; but my mind ran wild with thoughts of my friend's suicide. There were so many unanswered questions, such as, how could he do this to his children? How could he do this to his family? What did I miss? What did I fail to say? Why didn't I notice a change in his compassionate efforts to change his life for the better? Was the pressure to be a productive member of our community so much, he had no other choice? Why? I am quite embarassed to admit, I felt sorry for myself. Such as, what about me?
In time, through lots of prayer, a lot of talking circles, and my own mission to learn as much I could about suicide, I have finally come to some conclusions. My friend's death is not understood and may never be undwerstood. As time passes, it does not heal my wounds. I have only learned to live with my loss. I see his children from time to time. I cannot help but wonder if my friend considered the impact his suicide would have on any of us; those left behind. I wish he had known his suicide would increase the chance that someday, his children's chance of suicide is quite imminent. I gave him my heart; he shattered it to pieces. I will never be the same. I will never love the same. Who knew a love so strong could hurt be so painful.
I spend hours upon hours sharing insight, wearing my heart on my sleeve. It is not a badge of honor. I think of it as.... a shattered piece of glass. every once in a while, I find the courage to mend my shattered heart by attending the annual suicide world awareness day at a grief center, actively participating in suicide prevention, hoping to one day, initiate suicide prevention chapters across Indian Country. I want to keep the conversations alive. I used to think conversations about suicide would only enhance one's ideation or attempt. I now know better. In hindsight, my friend never discussed suicide, implied any form of suicidal ideation with me. After his death, a number of his friends and family memebers told me he had attempted suicide numerous times starting in his teenage years. I realize now that I didn't know him so well after all.
I now think about how his reckless behavior was an obvious sign of hopelessness. I know now, the love and friendship we shared was priceless while it lasted. I no longer blame myself for placing so much demand on our friendship. I thought he successfully completed suicide because of the pressure I placed on him; the emotional support he always offered, the kind words he had when he'd recieve my letters; I realize now I should just be thankful for the time I had with him.
I hope he's proud of the challenges I have overcome and the career path I have chosen. I work in the mental health field, crisis response to suicide and traumatic events where others may need my empathetic support. Someday, I hope to provide hope and to make a difference in the life of my people. One day, suicide will not be concidered an option, it will be prevented. We all endure hardships, challenges, trials and tribulations, but through faith in a higher power, the love and support of friends, family, mental health, and other social serivce agencies, I hope all Native Americans will consider that the choice is life, not death.
Author: I am Native American, I am Someone's Daughter, Sister, Mother, & Friend