Word Therapy after Loss

I haven’t written journal style in a very very long time.
I told myself to write.

I know I left this place on a very sad and abrupt note. It has been a horrible year +

I hesitate to write here because there are ppl that know me here and who hate me now because of their own reasons and ridiculous assumptions about who I am and what I’m about. Honestly, their opinion means little to me, but I really don’t like internet drama and ridiculousness, so please, keep it away from me.

If anyone who “hates me” reads this and thinks it’s a great idea to start talking trash about me or my son, well, that’s on you and I hope you feel great about yourself and your life as you trash someone for no reason.

I am now going to write about what happened a little bit.

Writing about it doesn’t hurt me any more than the constant replay of what happens over and over in my head.

I write this for awareness and with hope that maybe someone will be helped.

On November 14, 2018, my oldest child, Jonathon, committed suicide. I went to check on him for school and he did not open his door. I saw the end of a computer power cable wedged in the upper corner of his door. His door was locked and I could not get inside.

I thought he was playing a joke. I threatened to call his step dad. He didn’t answer and neither did his step dad. That is when I called 911. It was a terrible call. 911 operators are trained to be calm, but in the midst of trauma, it just sounds mean and rude. I know they aren’t, but that’s all it was. I could barely breath or talk clearly and I had to repeat myself over and over.

They said that I should try to get a neighbor to help and I ran to every house on my street screaming for help and nobody came except for a new neighbor that I hadn’t even met yet. He tried to get the door down and he couldn’t. The police passed my street and I had to chase them down and ran alongside their car answering questions about guns as they went to my house.


I was in the hallway when they kicked his door down. One of hte officers immediately pushed me away. All I saw was a shadow of a body falling. The door was kicked in half.

He wouldn’t let me see.

The paramedics arrived, but the room was very quiet. No cpr or anything was administered, at least not that I heard. I think it was probably very obvious he was already dead. According to what I found on his computer, he did it between 1:30 and 2:00 AM that morning.

There was no warning. There were no signs. He was actually sweet and kind and funny for the whole week before that.

Then he was gone.

There is more, but I’m going to stop now.

Is this the first time I’ll write about this?

Probably not.

I don’t care if anyone likes reading it or gets annoyed with it. I figured if I’m going to come back and write, then this is what I’ll do. I want exposure for it simply to be of help or… in some strange way, a comfort to someone else.

My life essentially ended on that day. I do my best for my remaining children, but I am so dead inside.

I miss my son more than any words can ever say.

Making it worse, this year on the anniversary of that day, my second oldest sons school had a shooting. You might have seen it on the news. THE ONLY REASON HE WASN’T AT SCHOOL ON THAT DAY WAS BECAUSE I KEPT HIM HOME TO MOURN. He knew the shooter, was friends with them, would have been around him.

I could have lost both of my children. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but the trauma of those “what ifs” is palpable, even if I have the “it didn’t happen” to follow it. Life feels cruel. I feel as if none of my children will be able to grow up because I’m cursed. People say that’s irrational, but I hope you never know how this feels.

That’s all for now. I gotta go hug my 4 year old.

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January 13, 2020

My heart breaks for you, so much – but I am glad that you wrote about it, I hope it helps in some small way. There are so many unknowns in our lives, so many paths that could have happened – we can drive ourselves crazy with “what ifs”, but it is something that is impossible to avoid and still be human. I hope for some kind of peace for you.

January 13, 2020

Don’t worry about how others will react to you on here. It is your diary and it is for you. Not for them.

I’m sorry about your son. I can’t imagine the pain you are feeling. I wish I had something wiser to say but I don’t.

January 13, 2020

I’m glad you’re back writing and hope you are able to feel supported here.

That being said, as someone who attempted suicide, if you don’t want people to know, people won’t know. I was actually happier, calmer closer to my attempt. It was a complete surprise to my friends….I don’t blame them for being unaware of my plans, just as I’m sure your son wouldn’t think you failed him either.

I am so sorry for your immense heartbreaking loss…and just wish for you a peace beyond any understanding.

January 13, 2020

911 operators are trained to be calm, but in the midst of trauma, it just sounds mean and rude” – I hear you. It’s not good. They’re also trained to try and calm you, but in a situation like this, that’s not going to happen.  I’m sorry you had to go through it then and that it’s still controlling your days – which is understandable.

I can’t imagine why anyone anywhere (let alone on OD) would hate you or start any shit on you for any reason – but let them, they only show their pettiness and their need to get a life. You cannot talk butterfly language with caterpillars – don’t let them clip your wings either. Heaven forbid they’ll go through the same thing at some point.

January 14, 2020

People suck, and how they treat you is a reflection of them and not yourself. Your loss is yours to grieve for however long you need to. I do not know what it is like to lose a child, or come so close to losing another one, and for that I am sorry. I cannot empathize with you, and that makes me sad. You do whatever you need to do for you, and if other cannot understand, they do not need to be asking. You have support and love in your life, no matter what shitty people say. <3

March 3, 2020

I’m glad you’re writing about this. I don’t know if you have yet or not, but it’s time to try and make those small steps. Whatever you can do, dear. I think of you often and wish I could actually do something. xoxo

December 18, 2020

Oh Monique.. It’s been years since I’ve talked to you, but it breaks my heart to read this.  I just broke into my old diary today.  I’m so so sorry ~Jolee