you may say I don't know what I'm talking about...
my response will always be you weren't there.
it took nearly 8 years... slow... painfully draining... life shattering
my father had always been so strong so "manly"
I never thought he was anything but my "daddy" he sat on the tier I'd placed him... and I was devastated when he came crashing to the ground.
bipolar disorder took him down a very dark path that no one really wanted to journey down with him in the 1990s... the stigma was just so great, over bearing, the most powerful thing in the room...so it was quite easy for him to give into the demons that told him to try and drink them all away...
he was labeled an alcoholic and worked at sobriety...but when told he needed to start over when just the mere thought of taking a drink crossed his mind... my father gave up...
no he didn't put a gun to his head
no he didn't take a bottle of pills
no he didn't cut his wrists to bleed himself dry
he took the long way... a painful way... the way we all watched and suffered with him, unable to save him, unable to look past the pain he gave.
it took nearly 8 years for my father to drink himself to death
it took nearly 8 years for my father to die
it took nearly 8 years for my father to give in to depression
I look back and I remember a man who was just so empty of the life he'd once embraced...
my father's suicide lasted nearly 8 years... and I'd only ever have an idea of why...
but that is neither here nor there...
although I wish I could have saved him, I realize I can't change the past...
this is what I can hope for today...
i hope that I can reach out to those who need to be reached
to offer help those who need to be helped
to give hope to those who feel hopeless
I pray that the stigma of bipolar disorder and depression and every other mental disorder is buried...
I pray that the 2/3 who never seek help seek help...
I pray that no one stays silent ... every voice is heard
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