Microblog Mondays: Mental Health

Our dear Mel over at Stirrup Queens has begun a blog phenomenon... as she frequently does. 

Microblog Mondays. Writing in your own space. Something short and sweet. But it's meant to take back our bloggy space and call it our own. I am going to try to do this periodically. Life's hectic. So we'll see how long this lasts.

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I cannot possibly fathom writing about anything else this week. For ever since last Wednesday, February 4, my world has been shaken and forever changed.

It was an ordinary day. I went to work. I went to the gym; I ran 3.4 miles on the treadmill too! I picked up Petite after school. We went home. Hubby was working late so I took care of dinner, Petite's bath and getting her bedtime routine going. Hubby came home around 9:30, just as I was rousing from a little doze with Petite as she loves a cuddle with us before bed. (I think I fell asleep before she did though!)

And as I was waking and getting up and out of Petite's room, I got a Facebook PM. It was a group PM between me, Hubby and it was coming from our dear friend, MM. 

MM and her husband, RM, have been friends of ours for YEARS. RM and Hubby knew each other before Hubby and I met in 2000. They've been friends for about 18 years. And when RM met his wife-to-be, we were introduced and got along like a house afire. They're a wonderful couple. We saw them more frequently before Petite was born, but even after her arrival, we always kept in touch and we arranged to get together every few months, as schedules would permit. 

RM was a teacher. Graphic Web Design at a local college. He was well-loved and respected by peers and students. He was funny, very quick witted indeed. And one of the most intelligent men I knew. I admired him. Respected him greatly. He shared good news and bad with us over the years. 

But the Facebook message from his wife shook me to the core. RM passed away earlier on Wednesday afternoon at the age of 46. WHAT? How could that be?! My brain didn't compute that at all. Not possible. It's just not possible. It must be a joke. 

Hubby walked in the door, mouth agape (much as mine was) and I said, "We need to call her. Now. This has GOT to be a joke... He's suck a jokester. Someone must have gotten their hands on his account or hers or something. This isn't real..." 

We called MM, who was in shock, and tears. 

She had come home early as she had known RM was a little down about a medical issue. She found that he had committed suicide. She found her husband; he had hanged himself. She was alone. She was the one who had to call 911, cut him down, give him chest compressions, the whole nine yards. 

No one should ever have to do that to a loved one. Ever. She has that image in her head forever. With luck it will be replaced by happy thoughts in time, but for now, she is grieving. We are in shock. We are preparing to attend his funeral later this week but there are no words to describe how we feel. 

Talk to your loved ones. Talk to professionals. Open up about mental health issues. Because no one should ever feel at wits' end so as to make this choice to end it all. Too many people love you. Yes YOU. You are loved. Deeply. Please don't make this drastic choice. I beg. 

RM, we can but hope you find the peace you so desperately sought. But you will be sorely missed. Life will not be the same without you. We love you.