When I was young, one of my favorite bands was Suicidal Tendencies. As a teenager between junior high and high school, I loved their shock-and-awe style and disturbing lyrics. My friend (the bishop’s kid) and I made a Suicidal Tendencies T-shirt in craft class, featuring a sweet graphic and listing all the ways the guy tried to kill himself in the song Suicidal Failure.
Fast forward thirty years. I’ve had numerous friends—and some family members—die by suicide. Though there’s still some nostalgia tied to the band and its lyrics, suicide doesn’t feel the same anymore. The shock-and-awe has been replaced by a deeper understanding of mental illness—and the trauma and heartache that come along with it.
Three days ago, my kid went on a suicidal rant. We sat and listened to him rage about death and dying for hours. None of it sounded like a Suicidal Tendencies song. Instead, it felt like being dragged through the bitterness and despair of hell. The whole ordeal, including a trip to the ER with a police escort, lasted about eight hours. And now, two days later, I’m going through it again, and writing this post while waiting in the ER.
As a teen, I don’t think I ever truly contemplated the effect suicide has on the loved ones left behind: a young pregnant wife, children, loving parents, friends, neighbors, coworkers—even the profound impact on people who simply knew you.
The one that hurt me the most was Ben. I still ache over that one, and it’s been twenty years. He was one of my best friends. He left behind a pregnant wife and two beautiful daughters. I have to admit—I saw some of the signs, and I feel as though I didn’t do enough. It still hurts to this day.
I have some dear friends who have lost two of their sons to suicide. I love them deeply, and my heart aches for them and the loss of their boys. The pain is devastating—two handsome young men, in the prime of their lives, each gone in an unexpected instant.
The list goes on and on.
I’ve always been moved by the Linkin Park chorus in One More Light. If you didn’t know, their lead singer, Chester Bennington, also died by suicide.
Who cares if one more light goes out
In the sky of a million stars?
It flickers, flickers
Who cares when someone’s time runs out
If a moment is all we are?
Or quicker, quicker
Who cares if one more light goes out?
Well, I do
My life has flip-flopped. What was once cool and edgy is now something I’ve found myself fighting against for the last six months. It’s not cool. It’s not awesome. It’s toxic—and it’s been debilitating to my family, my wife, and my children. The stress, the constant fear, the threats—they’re hard to live with.
As a parent, I want nothing more than for my child to live, to find happiness and balance in their life. I want them to grow up, build a life, and pursue their dreams.
But as more time passes, I feel less and less confident that doctors, hospitals, or medications are going to help him. I believe God can help—but at this point, he refuses to look to God. Man, am I in a pickle.
So, I keep moving forward with hope in God—and I pray.
HELP WITH SUICIDE
Number one, if you are having thoughts of suicide, please remember these things.
- There is a God in Heaven who loves you
- There are people who love you (family, friends, neighbors, co-workers, peers)
- There is help.
Who can you call for help?
- 988 is a national Suicide Line – Call, there will be someone who can speak to you.
- Talk to someone (friend, neighbor, family, clergy). Tell them you are struggling. There is always someone to help.
- Most states have crisis lines you can call.
- In Utah, it is: (MCOT, SMR, Others) Crisis Outreach Teams – 833-723-3326
Don’t go find Suicidal Tendencies the band. I brought them up because they are part of my life story.