Meghan Breslin
Up until 4th grade, I had a life that was “normal”. Parents that were married, a sister who I would occasionally fight with, and the most loving family you could ever imagine. My dad was the one who worked and my mom was the one who stayed at home each day and was there to get me on/off the bus every day. It was the afternoon of May 21, 2011 when that all changed. The bus reached my stop and to my surprise I only saw my sister standing there. This didn’t seem too out of the ordinary since my mom occasionally would send my sister to get me if she was in the middle of doing something. But after walking home and opening the garage door, I saw that my moms car wasn’t there. At first I assumed she got caught up running errands so I decided to call and ask when she would be home. 4 phone calls and 3 messages later, I knew things weren’t right. I had a gut feeling that something was wrong and immediately began to panic. My sister was trying to calm me down, along with my dad who I was on the phone with, who I was screaming at to get home. Although he told me I had nothing to worry about, he left work anyways to come home in attempt to calm me down. About 20 minutes later, I look out the window and see my dad pulling up the driveway. Except two more cars pull up at the exact same time. Police cars. My heart dropped. My mind raced to all of the possibilities of why they would be at my house. I ran outside to my dad, and began screaming at the officers demanding they told me where my mom was. I was told I needed to go inside while they talked to my dad. Those next 5 minutes felt like 5 years. All I wanted was for my mom to come home.
That was the first day I saw my dad cry. He was walking up the stairs to come tell my sister and I the news. Our mom had taken her life. Being so young, I couldn’t understand why someone would do that. I sat there blankly staring at the wall, trying to wrap my head around the idea of having to grow up without my mom. It seemed like a nightmare I couldn’t get out of.
I remember the only thing I ate that night was half a cheez-it. Yes, half. Anything more than that, I would have been sick. The next few days were blurs. Countless people coming in and out of my house, so many meals dropped off, and no school for me for the next few weeks. I had to sleep in my dads room for the next few months, which was when I realized my separation anxiety had begun. I had to be right by my dads side for months after losing my mom. And if I couldnt see him, I had to be on the phone with him to make sure he was okay. I couldnt hang out with my friends, or go to the pool, or sleepover at someones house, because it meant I couldnt be with my dad. However, I was too embarrassed to ever let anyone know that. I always had to come up with excuses for why I couldnt hang out, when the real answer was, I didnt want to leave my dads side because I was too afraid something would happen to him too.
With time, I learned to deal with my anxiety and become social yet again. It wasn’t easy, but after a couple years, I was comfortable leaving home and not constantly worrying. I must admit, that worry still sits in the back of my mind every day, I just eventually learned how to overcome it.
Anxiety, depression, and suicidal awareness are things I wish people talked about more. You never know who is dealing with these internal battles because of the stigmas around it. If there is one thing I have learned, is that it is nothing to be ashamed of. Its okay to not be okay.