Every day after losing your child is the longest day, particularly when your child has died by suicide. It’s about the number of hours of excruciating pain.
I don’t have to see the other Paul, I can feel him stood on the other side with intent in his soul. He’s patiently waiting for my weaknesses to let him in.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder entered our lives shortly after our fifth wedding anniversary. It wasn’t the first test we had faced. We were a strong team.
Our loved ones did not die of ‘suicide’, or the methods that the Press should be ashamed of reporting. They died of mental illness, and we need parity.
I can’t control how I suffer with BPD, including my black & white thinking. Even if I’m crying, broken on the floor, I still love you and want you to stay.