May we all find an advocate

The weekend before Mother's Day was rough. Our teen grandson — having tried to take his life back in December — gave it another attempt. He had said he wouldn't do that again, and I'm sure he meant it at the time. But the reality is his life crept up on him once more, and pounced — and he wanted out.

I'm not sure that's entirely true. Not everyone who attempts suicide wants out. One of the few survivors of a jump from the Golden Gate bridge said as soon as he jumped he knew it was a mistake.

My grandson swallowed far too many pills. We might have had a very different outcome. Instead, he spent the weekend in ICU recovering.

From there an in-patient bed opened in a treatment center and he stayed a few days. Yesterday. he texted me he is out and home and feeling good.

Of course, the weight hanging over this grandma's head is will he try it again. Will there be someone there to rescue him? Fear is a sledgehammer. I can't keep him safe. My mind can splinter to smithereens thinking what could happen next.

This is what people in this situation go through. And we are the relieved ones — being given another chance with our loved one. Many don't get that.

My grandson will participate in out-patient therapy. I am forever grateful for those who plant a life's work in guiding others to a better outcome. Someone has to develop the skills and knowledge to treat a troubled mind. Someone has to help shut down that insidious, lying voice that crawls around inside a head hissing, “You're a loser. You can't be forgiven for what you did. You're no good. People are better off without you. You can't get over that. You can't face what's ahead. There's no hope for you.”

We told our grandson emphatically in a voicemail before his transfer to treatment, “Be honest.” Until I can get down deep honest about the things worrying me, stressing me, causing PTSD, making me bitter or afraid or sad, they cannot be healed.

That kind of honesty is very difficult — especially when it means it's likely to hurt or anger someone else. And it's personally hard to face, too. Because there is no place to hide. Raw truth is usually just that. It's heroic to dredge it up and deal with it.

My faith has helped me. God is all about freedom from “every weight that clings so closely.” Jesus calls those who are “weary and heavy laden” to find rest in Him. In my relationship with Him I have an advocate — an all-powerful God who is for me, not against me.

When I'm looking at the raw stuff I need that. His advocate voice prevails over the accusing voice.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. This encompasses as many minds as there are people. Everyone is working on mental health freedom in some way. It comes with being human.

May we each find an advocate.