Last year, right around this time, I wrote cryptically about a crisis in our lives. I did not share any details, but those who knew me personally were spared nothing. I did not go dark out of shame. I was not incommunicado out of embarassment. I was silent out of respect.
Now, a year later, with the dust having (mostly) settled, the process having morphed into a positive and Harrison’s being totally onboard, I am prepared to share.
It was a Sunday night and I’d just settled in with the Sunday crossword and a cup of tea, readying for the week ahead. My cell phone rang and all I heard on the other end was screaming and then a screech. I knew it was Harrison, but I could not understand a single word. He was shouting (no, screaming) at such a high decibel that it hurt my ears. The urgency and hysteria in his voice in concert with the outside noises told me everything that I needed to know. He had hit an emotional wall and came dangerously close to hitting a real one. I thank G-d every day the he had the presence of mind to call me or this would have ended very differently. He was trying to kill himself.
Holding the cell phone, Harrison still screaming inaudibly, I frantically Googled the number for the University police and with shaking hands called them from the land line. They managed to track him down and stop him. The sounds of their interaction, simultaneously muffled and deafening, left me breathless and terrified. The fact that I could hear his voice, however despondent, gave me just a morsel of peace. He was alive.
I grabbed my keys and ran to my car to be with him. Two grueling and terrifying hours later I arrived at the hospital and found a child I did not recognize.
They got him stable. They admitted him to the locked ward. They kept him safe.
Close to a week later, we put him in the car to head home. No, we weren’t heading home, we were heading directly to the ER in our town so that he could be placed in a day program. where he would have the support and expertise of a team of therapists. When he was there, I was desperately searching for a psychiatrist who was not only taking new patients, but was, more to the point: in town. August is the month that most of the psychiatrists are out of town, regrouping from the intensity of their jobs. I knew from past experience, that it was not going to be easy. Thanks to some good will and better connections, I was able to find a wonderful therapist…he was the second act of saving my son’s life.
Clearly Harrison would not be returning to school that semester. But, and this was a huge but, he was the current President/Master of his fraternity; a role he took very seriously. He was so concerned about not letting his brothers down, so worried about leaving them in the lurch, so anxious about how they would react. He need not have worried. To a person, these frat boys were amazing. Supportive. Kind. Loving. Afraid.
He returned to school in January. In the months that he was home, he worked incredibly hard to heal himself. He completed the coursework and (easily) passed the test to be a Nationally Certified EMT. He went on Birthright to Israel with several of his brothers. He worked his ass of getting himself to a (way, way, way) better place.
Fast forward to last week, Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, where the annual International Conference for his fraternity, AEPi, was being held. Weeks earlier, the big guy (aka the Executive Director, Andy) had asked Harrison if he was willing to share his story. He did not hesitate to accept the invitation. And then, on a sweltering Thursday afternoon, he got up, with his mother, sister and grandmothers in the audience, and told it like it is. And he was dynamite.
On paper it is powerful. In person, it was outstanding. Mesmerizing. Courageous. Following two standing ovations, he was swarmed with Brothers thanking him for talking about it and asking him to come to their Chapter. These are young men who like to party, who work hard, who always have one another’s backs, but often keep things bottled up. It thrills me to know he reached some of them.
With his permission, here is the text of his speech.
I know his pain. Bless him. He is a survivor
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Julie. Harrison. Just so few words to express the sadness that this post brings forth, but equally the joy of knowing you got through the “darkness” with a strong sense of yourself and the courage to share your story. THANK YOU FOR SHARING–that is a gift you give to all those who read your story. Here’s to you, Harrison, and your devoted, smart and loving mother.
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Congratulations, Harrison. You’ve made it to the black Knight stage so early in your life.
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Julie, you did it again! Your writing is captivating and always hits home. Please thank Harrison for allowing this story to be shared – what a great kid. I am so proud to call you my friend!!! What a difference a year makes♡
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Went through something very similar this past semester with my son away at school. It was difficult to find help. I basically ended up moving there for weeks at a time. As a mother, I had to be there.
Yep.
The very best to Harrison. Both your children are very fortunate to have you as their mom!
I cannot imagine how proud you must be of Harrison. So heartbreaking that he was in so much pain…and so inspiring how he not only worked to heal himself, but is now working to heal others. Having very recently lost a close friend to suicide, I am moved by and am grateful to you both for sharing. 💜
Julie, I,too, made a frantic five hour drive to university after receiving an email from my child telling me she was thinking about taking her life and then several years later, she called us from her new home in Boston and could only cry and cry. I was frantic and I reached out to you that day for help in finding a therapist for her and you were so kind and offered your time and your help. I can never thank you enough for that. There is no pain as soul-searing as your child’s pain, but she, like Harrison, has worked very hard to find healing and today is a happy, well-adjusted trans woman in a loving, committed relationship. I am so grateful that Harrison has come through that dark tunnel of depression and so thankful that he is willing to share his experience. His voice, combined with yours, can touch so many people and offer them hope. Harrison, you are an exceptional young man. Thank you for sharing your story and know that you have made a difference. Julie, you are an exceptional mother and one seriously tough woman! Thank you for allowing us, your readers, to share in your life experiences because they help us realize that we are not alone in our grief or in our happiness. Blessings and love to you and your beautiful family.
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Please thank your son for this. Having just returned from dropping my daughter off at her first year of college, his words really struck me, especially the ones about how much time we spend discussing alcohol and not mental health. At orientation, my daughter had to do both online and in-person discussions on the topics of alcohol and sexual consent. She had already talked about the latter quite a bit in high school clubs and health class and was actually getting a bit tired of the discussion, which I suppose is a good thing. Orientation did touch on mental health and depression, but not in the same depth and not nearly the same amount of time as the other two topics. The stats shared in this post are sobering, and I think I will pass them on to the college for future orientations.
Julie – I have been in your shoes three different times with two of my children and I understand your pain, fright, anxiety, etc. Both kids worked their butts off and are finally – for the moment – healthy. My oldest daughter is starting her second year at a school in R.I. and my youngest just started college 5 minutes from our house. Thank you for telling Harrison’s story and please thank Harrison for sharing his experiences with the world. The more we talk about mental illness, the less stigma there will be associated with the disease and those who suffer from it. At least that’s what I’m hoping for.
If you’re not familiar with NAMI (NAMI.org) you may want to check out their website and/or learn more about the local or state chapter in MA. They also accept blog posts to the website of the national organization, if you or Harrison are so inclined to share this with them. Stories with happy endings are encouraging for others going through similar situations, but you already know that. God bless you and your family; I pray Harrison continues on the path he’s on and finds peace.
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Julie – Thank you for sharing the back story. I had the privilege of meeting and working with Harrison at convention. He’s a special guy and I’m glad I got to know him. His presentation was an inspiration to all in attendance.
Thanks, Steven. This kinda made my day…(said the proud Mom)