Suicide Prevention Month Commentary: Employee shares personal story

In February 2002, after returning from two weeks of annual training in Kaiserslautern, Germany, while serving in the Army Reserve, attending community college full-time, and not working, I decided to enter the active-duty Army. Because I was a single mother, that required me to give up custody of my son.

I asked my son's father, an active-duty Marine, to be the primary custodian while I transitioned to active duty, and he agreed.

This decision, which I thought long and hard about, turned out to be one of the worst decisions of my life. It still plagues me to this day. I have not seen my son since he was 7 years old and have not spoken to him since he graduated high school in 2020.

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My fight with suicidal thoughts began when I was a private first class stationed at Fort Liberty (Fort Bragg at the time), North Carolina. There was an ongoing battle in my head. Happy thoughts of a successful military career and new marital bliss were in constant opposition with evil thoughts of suicide that plagued my mind at the same time. The sad thing is, nobody knew but me. I cried to and from work but joked, laughed and was an overachiever on the job.

My team had no idea I was going through a difficult custody battle as a 20-year-old mother to a 2-year-old son from a previous relationship. They only saw the budding career and the recent engagement to my fiancé.

During the week, I lived and worked on Fort Bragg, but on Friday afternoons or Saturday mornings, I drove three hours to pick up my son from his father's home. Then unexpectedly one Wednesday when I called to schedule my son's pick-up, his father said there was no need for me to come get him. Unbeknownst to me, he'd decided to send our son to his mother in Mississippi. With no explanation or conversation, he hung up the phone.

Why did he agree to temporary custody if he knew he wasn't ready to be a father full-time?

I was overwhelmed with emotions and fully aware of a pending deployment order to Afghanistan that thankfully never came. Instead, I was sent on an unaccompanied assignment to South Korea.

Who knew that less than six months from moving forward with my decision that guilt and the fear of being called a "dead beat mom" would push me over the limit? I also suffered a lingering back injury while battling separation anxiety from my young child. The weight of it all led to ongoing, tormenting thoughts that I was a failure, that I wasn't wanted or needed. It plagued me daily and eventually led to weeks of suicidal thoughts and eventually an unsuccessful suicide attempt with numerous prescription pain killers.

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Having attended suicide awareness training and watched past survivors tell their story during my military career, I never thought I'd find myself at such a low place in life, especially after witnessing the struggles that preceded my parents' separation and divorce after their almost 20-year marriage a year prior.

At home, I heard things like "Black people don't commit suicide." I grew up in a church where conversations about suicide were considered taboo. The church was also the very place where I was taught that suicide wasn't an option for believers. I still went to church every Sunday during my struggles, but I didn't understand and couldn't explain to others why I was having suicidal thoughts or ideations during this season of my life.

My faith in God helped me through the pain then, and I later realized he didn't let me die because he had a bigger purpose and a plan for my life: Four years later I was able to intervene and prevent suicide from taking the life of a fellow soldier during my second tour in Iraq.

I'd returned to the office after dinner to do homework when I discovered him passed out in another room. My quick reaction to alert others to locate a medic as I worked to perform CPR on him saved his life.

Like me, nobody knew he was struggling because he did his job.

We must move past viewing a person's performance as a marker that he or she is doing okay. Today, people are more open to discuss and seek mental health assistance, acknowledging that it's not a sign of weakness but a sign of one's strength. We can also ask our friends and co-workers how they're doing, how's their family or what are their plans for the weekend. A simple gesture ensures that they are being seen and someone cares about their existence.

If you or someone you know is struggling with anxiety, depression or suicidal ideations, encourage them to seek help by calling 988. The Defense Logistics Agency's Employee Assistance Program also offers free confidential services, including counseling and resources to address mental health crises and life stressors that can potentially lead to suicide.