Photo supplied, Meg Sanders

“For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don’t know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them — we can love completely without complete understanding.” These words by Norman Maclean from his book, “A River Runs Through It,” were read at my uncle’s funeral 10 years ago. They ring true for me today, more so than I realized at 30 because try as I might, I couldn’t see into the future.

September marks suicide prevention month. For the first time last year, I attended the NUHOPE Suicide Awareness Walk through downtown Ogden. Surrounded by a few hundred people grieving, remembering and hurting after those they loved completed suicide, I realized my family’s tragedy was the story of so many in our community. It’s the anniversaries, holidays and big moments that take us back to the day we lost our loved one. It’s an instant time warp to the worst day of our lives. At the same time, it gives me hope that things can change because of the conversations.

After Matt’s death, like figuring out a math theorem, I thought I could beat the system. I would know what to look for, the questions to ask and just the right thing to say the next time a loved one felt the depths of despair. Turns out, the way mental illness, personal rights and human behavior works, it’s really hard to solve the theorem of suicide.

At this very moment in time, my family is watching someone we love battle herself out of existence. She’s fighting us, mental health, traumas and addictions. She’s losing. It started off slow, pulling her from bars, begging for rehab, believing promises and negotiations. It was only after years of these tactics, we learned it’s all just lies. One doesn’t “get better” by willpower alone. It takes actual work. Really, really hard work. And honesty. It takes a strong person to do those steps, so if that’s you, please give yourself credit and grace. We’re proud of you.

For years, we’ve been on the endless search for help. Getting someone services for his/her/they mental health and addiction struggles feels next to impossible. In a system where addicts are written off, with the two options being get clean or get arrested, the chances of getting his/her life back on track doesn’t even seem possible.

Photo supplied

Outside of someone picking up the phone to dial 988, families have little to turn to in hopes of protecting someone from themselves. Civil commitment is an option in Utah but for this, the struggling person has to have been diagnosed by a physician. Have you ever tried to get an extremely mentally ill person to a doctor’s office? The paperwork filed with the district court requires a lot of time and hoop jumping, not to mention an attorney. These are not easily attainable requirements for the everyday person. If we were able to get a civil commitment granted, I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for my loved one currently struggling. She’s off the grid. These so-called hoops are the price for personal freedom. Sometimes it feels like personal freedom is a death sentence.

So many of these mental health crises end in tragedy whether it be the person’s own hand or the aftermath of calling for help. After meandering through the options of help, I’ve come to a stark realization. The only thing I can do is talk about mental illness, addiction and suicide prevention. There should be a whole month focused on the topic.

Thankfully, Utah does offer 988 as a resource for those struggling and their families. This is the best resource for those in crisis. Somehow, despite the violent, dark voices, these people need to hear they are not alone, this isn’t permanent and there are options to quiet those voices. This number connects people with mental health professionals who specialize in deescalating the situation. First you have to get them to dial the phone — no simple task.

Difficult conversations often lead those struggling to the phone. Drawing attention to the behaviors and thoughts allows that person to recognize the struggle. In our home, mental health discussions happen often because based on statistics, my children will struggle with mental illness at some point. We didn’t inherit riches or land. Instead, we got bipolar, depression, anxiety and substance abuse issues. I want my kids to know when our brains start to negatively affect our daily lives, it’s OK to reach out, to say “I’m not OK.” In this family, it’s the fear of saying “I’m not OK” that led to self-medication, to addiction. Hopefully by recognizing the cycle, we can end it.

Weber County’s NUHOPE walk is scheduled for this Saturday starting at the Ogden Amphitheater on 25th Street at 10 a.m. Does it make me sad? Yes. It also makes me unashamed to say my family struggles with mental health. The stigma keeps so many from the help that could turn their lives around, reminding them they don’t have to feel this way. NUHOPE starts a much-needed discussion for so many families in our community.

As I mark the decade since my funny, exuberant, uncle passed, I feel sorrow he missed so much. I feel a foreboding worry for my loved one out of reach, who we want to help but we don’t know which part of ourselves to give. All I have is the person who reads this, who reaches out, who talks about his struggles and decides to do the work to stick around.

Meg Sanders worked in broadcast journalism for over a decade but has since turned her life around to stay closer to home in Ogden. Her three children keep her indentured as a taxi driver, stylist and sanitation worker. In her free time, she likes to read, write, lift weights and go to concerts with her husband of 18 years.