My Journey With A Suicidal Teen
Should I really do this? Should I tell the story of my teen’s mental illness? Eight hospitalizations in three years for countless suicide attempts and self-harm. So many hospitals, inpatient and outpatient therapy programs, medications, doctors, and case workers. Where do I even start? Can I emotionally handle telling this story? Honestly, I don’t know. But here I am, ready to take the first step.
This journey hasn’t been pretty. It’s been raw, heartbreaking, and filled with moments of unbearable doubt. I’ve beaten myself up mentally a million times over—questioning every decision, replaying every moment, wondering if I could have done something differently. But at the end of the day, I put on my big girl pants, fought for my child, and refused to give up.
And you know what? I’m proud. I’m proud of the hard work and the desperate determination to advocate for my child when it felt like no one else would. Every single day is a struggle for my teen. But my teen is one of the lucky ones—still here, still fighting, still with us. For that, I am endlessly grateful.
My hope in sharing this journey is simple: to provide a glimmer of hope for another parent who is literally fighting for tomorrow trying to keep their child alive. And, to remind you that even in the darkest moments, there’s light to be found—sometimes just a flicker, but enough to keep going.
The Beginning: Before the Storm Hit
Before I take you through the hell of the last four years, let me say this: this is my story. My perspective as a parent watching my child grapple with severe depression and anxiety. My experience navigating the endless maze of treatments, therapies, small wins and setbacks.
If you’re reading this, my hope is that it gives you the strength to keep going, to keep fighting for your child, to hold onto the possibility of brighter days ahead. They say, “it takes a village,” but in our case, it took a small army—an army of doctors, therapists, teachers, friends, and family. And even then, there were days when it felt like it wasn’t enough.
The Storm Hits
The first hospitalization was like a punch to the gut. One moment, I was trying to navigate the normal chaos of family life; the next, I was sitting in an emergency room, completely numb, as Ryan is explaining the dark thoughts in their head of suicidal thoughts and the strong feeling of wanting to take their own life.
I’ll never forget that moment. The sterile smell of the hospital. The sound of monitors beeping in the background. The weight of the realization that my child was hurting so much and I hadn’t seen it coming.
That night changed everything.
Over the next three years, my life became a blur of hospital stays, therapy sessions, medication trials, lack of sleep, and constant fear. Every time I thought we were making progress, another crisis would knock us down. It was like walking lost though a storm— two steps forward, then three steps backpounding rain, then hail leaving me utterly gasping for air.
The Emotional Toll as a Parent
As a parent, you’re supposed to have the answers. You’re supposed to protect your child from harm. But how do you protect them from themselves?
There were nights I cried myself to sleep, consumed by guilt. Had I failed Ryan? Was it something I said or did? Could I have prevented this if I’d acted sooner?
I spent countless hours researching mental health, desperate for answers. I read books, joined support groups, and spent hours on the phone with therapists and insurance companies. And yet, there were moments when I felt completely powerless—when no amount of effort seemed to make a difference.
But giving up was never an option.
Building the Village
They say, “It takes a village to raise a child.” In our case, it took a village to save one.
Over the years, we’ve worked with an incredible team of professionals—doctors, therapists, social workers, teachers, and mentors. Each one played a role in helping Ryan stay alive. But the village wasn’t just made up of professionals. It was family, friends, and even strangers who stepped up in ways I’ll never forget.
There was the teacher who stayed after school to check in on Ryan. The family friend who brought us meals when we couldn’t even think about cooking. The online support group of parents who understood exactly what I was going through.
These people became my lifeline. They reminded me that I wasn’t alone in this fight, even on the days when it felt like the world was crumbling around me.
Why I’m Telling This Story
If you’re reading this, chances are you’ve experienced something similar. Maybe you’re a parent who’s desperate for answers. Maybe you’re a teen who feels like no one understands. Or maybe you’re just someone who wants to learn more about the realities of mental illness.
Whoever you are, I want you to know this: there is hope.
This blog isn’t just about sharing my story. It’s about creating a space where we can talk openly about the struggles of mental illness—without judgment, without shame. It’s about breaking the stigma and reminding each other that we’re not alone.
A Note on Privacy
Ryan has been incredibly supportive of this blog. They want their story to help others who are struggling, to provide a sense of connection and hope. For their privacy, I’ll refer to them as Ryan throughout this blog.
Ryan is transgender and identifies with they/them and he/him pronouns. Their journey of self-discovery has been deeply intertwined with their mental health struggles, and I want to honor every part of who they are as I share this story.
What’s Next
I’ll be sharing more about my journey—the challenges I’ve faced, the lessons I’ve learned, and the resources that have helped us along the way.
I’ll talk about the moments that nearly broke me and the small victories that kept me going. I’ll share tips for navigating the mental health system, advice for advocating for your child, and ways to find support when you feel completely alone.
Most importantly, I’ll share hope. Because even in the darkest storm, there’s a way through.
Join Me
This isn’t an easy story to tell, and it’s certainly not an easy one to live. But I believe it’s a necessary one. If even one family finds hope, one parent feels less alone, or one life is saved because of these words, then sharing our story will have been worth it.
So, join me. Let me walk you through the storm we’ve weathered and the lessons we’ve learned. Together, let’s find strength in each other’s stories and keep the light of hope alive.
