The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline posts ten warning signs for those who commit suicide.
1) Talking about wanting to die or to kill themselves.
She was quiet, almost comatose, during the evening news. Staring straight ahead, seeming to watch local anchors, yet her eyes not following the movement of the stories. During a muted commercial break, she leaned over with a broken voice, "I can't live like this much longer."
2) Looking for a way to kill themselves.
"I'm so messed up," she said to the table. She had that fixed grin I use sometimes when my real expression would be too terrible to show the world. "I sit here looking at this metal lid" -- she pointed at the unopened orange juice in front of her -- "and imagine how I could slit my wrists with it."
"Mama, you wouldn't do that," I reject her.
"No, baby, I wouldn't do that," she repeats.
3) Talking about feeling hopeless.
"You know, we have to be strong through these tough times. That's all we can do -- be strong and have faith and pray that God will have mercy on us."
My religious mother confessed, "I feel that God has abandoned me."
4) Talking about feeling trapped or in unbearable pain.
I ran out of things to say. Her breathing on the line reminded me of the night my husband spent without painkillers. He had ACL reconstruction surgery in his left knee two days before, had ran out of the painkillers, and faced the unresponsive tone of the doctor's voicemail.
I begged him to go to the Emergency Room, but he refused. Instead, he laid on the couch, breathing like every moment of existence was excruciating, with great pauses in which he seemed on the verge of a sob that never let loose. I laid on the floor next to the couch, six months pregnant, helpless in his pain.
5) Talking about being a burden to others.
"You're taking care of yourself, aren't you?" she asks desperately.
"Yes, of course," I lie.
"I don't want you to worry about me," she drifts.
"Don't be silly, Mama."
6) Increasing the use of alcohol or drugs.
Mom leaned over the couch arm as if we were in a crowded room, but we were the only ones in the house. In a whisper, she said, "I have something to tell you" -- that was never good -- "but I don't want you to be upset."
"Okay," was all I could offer.
"Robert and I have started smoking marijuana," confessed my mother, who always detested the smell of weed.
7) Acting anxious or agitated.
She didn't look right the whole time. I invited her to visit me, a couple states away, to get her away from the isolated house on the farm, and because I missed her. I still had to go to work, but I thought she could take care of my kids like her mom took care of her kids. Instead, on my lunch break, she looked at me lost, like she didn't know where she was or who these children were.
8) Sleeping too little or too much.
I'm seated too close to the television. From the couch, I can't make out what is on the screen and I don't know where my glasses are. So I seat on the carpeted floor directly below the television, another Saturday in solitude. Mom is asleep. She's been asleep all day. I make myself snacks out of ingredients in the refrigerator -- American cheese slices, saltine crackers, a raw potato with salt -- and find quiet ways to waste time and form scarring memories of routine loneliness and absent sleeping mothers.
9) Withdrawing or isolating themselves.
When she said she would move out to a real-life Walking Dead zombie hideout, we pointed out that she loved being around people. As extroverted as they came, she claimed to be a homebody, but that home had people. With her daughters moved out and a husband often in the field, she would be alone most of the time. She insisted she would be fine. It took 5 years for her to have a mental breakdown.
10) Showing rage or talking about revenge.
"You know when I graduated, your daddy wasn't there," mom said, as if we were in the middle of a conversation. She was on the couch; I was on the floor putting together my son's Lego set.
"He wasn't?" I remember my mom's graduation. I had been three years old at the time and was allowed to wear her cap, the tassel swinging in front of my face.
"He took your uncle to the bathroom. We found them in the lobby watching the NBA Finals afterwards."
I laughed -- it was almost thirty years ago, after all -- but my mom's fists were clenched tight on her lap.