An Open Letter To Those On The Fence With A Last Decision

(From an email response to someone choosing the end (via self-neglect) that anyone should hear):

At the end of the day, the only person that can determine if life is worth living is the person. That revelation came to me as I watched my friend, who didn’t want to talk to anyone else, die on a hospital table convulsing from taking tons of pills. To paraphrase what she said: all of the reasons you gave me to live, as noble as they may be, are your reasons or other people's reasons; they aren't reasons for me. Now, I’d have to carry part of her hurt with me everyday, as would those that also cared for her in the wake of what had happened. I can't say I resent her and I can't say her dying act was "selfish" (simply because life is your own and no one else's) but I can say in that moment I wished that I didn't have to carry her hurt for her and without her. She's certainly not the only friend...I have several more acquired in this movement. I have several that I barely knew that messaged the pages I helped on and I made gofundme's for their family/kids. Most all end the same...a distant memory soon forgotten by most all except the people closest to them, if that. Others, as I’ve said before, gaslit in death and their actions used as justification, not only in their situation but the rest of ours too.

I never was "suicidal". I was just intentionally reckless or careless, hoping it would happen and take away the pain, the stress, the agony...the constant feeling of the walls closing in and there's no way out other than to suffer. I used to ride my motorcycle home, close my eyes, and twist the throttle indefinitely. I'm not sure how I made it. One thing I do know, is that I was naive in telling myself or anyone else that if I died it wouldn't have been suicide. I knew the end result and consequences. I'm not judging you. But I will say, you can not say what you're doing is not suicide, you've succinctly described the outcomes.

After the first year or two of being alienated and joining an advocacy group, it hit me: one day my kids will be old enough to hear the truth and while I can't determine for them if they believe it, I owe it to them to be the one to say it; to answer their questions "why", even if it's in a letter they never respond to. I kept thinking of how sad I am, how sad they might be, and how much sadder they could be that I'd removed the option from them to provide answers to questions I might not have ever considered in a letter or video. After that day comes, all bets are off for me. But I kept imagining the young adult version of my children in unyielding pain thinking that they weren't worth my sticking around to give them the truth they deserve, especially if they're receptive. It's been over 7 years. I think about them everyday. My oldest just turned 15...

This isn't a pep-talk where I blow sunshine and rainbows up your ass, or anyone else's for that matter. I can't tell you how tired I am of hearing, "oh they'll learn the truth someday" or "god is doing this for a reason" or any of the other lines. Sorry-not-sorry that my pain makes people so uncomfortable that they can't bear to sit with it so they offer empty hope. I'll give you the same courtesy I wish others could give to me by not offering empty hope. However, in this time away from my kids, I've volunteered with a couple nonprofits as a way to reinvest the time I should have with them. After talking to thousands of men over the years, dozens (if not hundreds) have reached out to me to tell me or my team that their situation worked out because of the advice, helping them file, just listening, etc...and they'll send pictures/drawings/letters that bring bittersweet tears. The truth is, the situation worked out because some of my people or me live in torment every day and we turned our pain into purpose so that another child could know their daddy. I don't get to see my kids...but my heart breaks just as bad knowing that guy's kid was in the same boat...and now they're not. Had we not been there, there'd be hundreds more of you & me with generations of turmoil to follow. I don't want anyone to feel this, especially kids that grow up to repeat our same mistakes.

Personally, everyday I wonder if today might be the day I get pulled over or cops come to my door for who knows what; part of me is ready to go out swinging. But just as I implore you not to try to convince yourself it's not suicide; I have to tell myself that all those dozens of dads that we've helped weren't my reasons... but now that I know all these families are together because of people like us sticking around to fight: I know that is not "nothing left to lose". These men have EVERYTHING to lose and therefore so do I. So do you.

Live, don't live: the choice is yours. I've no reason to fear my words will/won't encourage your death because I browse that brochure everyday myself; trust me, I see the appeal. Those of us still in the fight (one way or another) all can and should honor one another in life; but martyrs serve us, our kids, and the kids we aim to help no purpose. Our children only have the voices of those that advocate for them, in death they are silent and their silence becomes crafted to mean whatever who's left wants it to mean. 

My reasons for living aren't my own but they're damn sure worth fighting for. It took dying to my self to know that. I hope you can die to yourself instead of dying yourself to find those reasons too.

-DavidB
Fathers Anonymous