Addicted to Living

Written by: Jeannette Davidson-Mayer

May 19, 2021

How many of us have struggled with living, at some point in our lives? This is not a rhetorical question. For those who know me, I know this is a surprise. I am famous for asking rhetorical questions. My goal, here today, is to share my suicide journey that has led to my Addiction to Living.

Here is some borderline-comforting news. You are not alone. Thoughts of Suicide are real. In 2022, an estimated 13.2 million American adults seriously thought about suicide, 3.8 million planned a suicide attempt, and 1.6 million attempted suicide.[1] The CDC reported that 49,449 people died by suicide in the United States in 2022, which is a 3% increase from 2021.

I don’t know about you, but I was raised during the time when one didn’t talk about suicide. For if you talked about it, it meant you were giving that person the idea to kill themselves. Through some updated training in my adult life, it is fantastic to learn the new mindset. Asking the person if they are wanting to kill themselves or if they are considering suicide, is the current new standard. Research has shown asking the tough questions has given more suicide ideation people comfort to seek help. There are many great programs out there for us all to receive training about suicide intervention skills [2]. We also now have the Suicide Prevention Hotline 988. This is a hotline for everyone, medical providers, veterans, caregivers, civilians alike.

Author side note - My mother was my abuser growing up and into adulthood. The abuse was verbal. It brought on my many thoughts of suicide in my younger and adult years. I acknowledge my mother is alive today. I have learned to separate the abuser from the love that she does have for me. It is a struggle. I love my mother, but I don’t like the way she chooses to treat me. With that noted, I have chosen to write this article because abuse comes in many different forms. There is also no one stereotype of what an abuser looks like. My hopes are that this article will help support, give courage, and help others find the strength to start on their new journey away from abuse. Away from suicide thoughts. As for my mom, there is a separation between like and love. I have love for my mother, I do not like how she treats me. Which means, I have given myself permission to keep my mother at a distance. The process of working towards this new normal for me has taken many years of therapy and self-help programs. I will never hate my mom and there are some positives from my childhood that my mom created.

What Lead me to this article

Recently I have worked through the best self-help program I have ever taken called ‘To Be Legacy’[3] This program began with where did my thoughts, ideas, and feelings originate from? At what ages? When did they come into fruition not creating the results one would hope for or had intended. This program truly worked its way down into black holes in my mind. You know, those locked file cabinets that have the inch of dust and cobwebs on them. Where my stubborn ideals have lived that prevented me from making the needed adjustments within myself. In completion of this program, I realized that not all the topics I struggled with had been addressed. It was time to start back at the beginning of the program to work through the topic of suicide.

I was listening to an episode of Arm Chair Expert about drug abuse and suicide when I realized this is the topic that has been left in a locked in that dusty old file cabinet. When I opened the drawer, it smelled of a rotten onion hiding in the back of the pantry. You can smell it, but you can’t see it. The co-hosts of Armchair expert, Dax and Monica began speaking about the beloved icon Matthew Perry and his addiction struggles leading to the end of his life. I’ll touch more on this area later on in the article.

It is time that I ask ourselves:

·? ? ? ? To close our thought processes,

·? ? ? ? To stop our accusations,

·? ? ? ? To stop our minds from forming any responses.

·? ? ? ? To open our thought processes to listening, to read what is truly being written here

·? ? ? ? To create a judgment free zone

Addiction to drugs, sugar, alcohol, smoking, and suicide are all true addictions. Ones that many of us have or continue to struggle with often. Dax spoke about his addiction as a continual recovery process. For me, I have addictions. One addiction is my insatiable sweet tooth – thank you Grandpa! My other addiction is transitioning my thought process from being addicted to suicide to being addicted to living.

My personal development has been focusing on how to live with the life happenings I grew up with. This also includes learning how to move forward in a more productive living manner. There are so many God given blessings, joys, pleasures, pains, and excitements that life offers. I have made many life changes to discover how my past can help me rebuild my future. That my past does not define me. One life event I am thankful for is Brian Mancini’s family who donated his brain to science. So, we could learn that the damage was too much for any modality to save him. Brian was a true Patriot and lived a servant heart mentality life. He saw good in many others. He believed in making a difference for our veterans.[4] Yet there were also many other challenges happening within his brain that led to his suicide. These other challenges were ones none of us could have helped him through. Even though many of us tried. It hurts to lose a friend to suicide. It hurts more knowing you saw the suicide signs and nothing we did worked to saved him. Suicide thoughts and Suicide completion effects not only the person thinking about suicide but their loved one.

As I Grew Up

My suicide ideations began back in Jr. High School. We lived out of town on one of the few hills in the flat lands of Portales, NM. My life was very much regulated, limiting access to friends and family. There was no understanding that I could change this part of my life. Thoughts of suicide started to form. I didn’t know how I was going to kill myself; I just knew if I had the opportunity, it was going to happen.? I would come home to an empty house for hours before anyone else would arrive. There would be days I would not see anyone, except for people at school and our dogs. I caught the bus before anyone else got up and went to bed before anyone got home. I was the introvert/extrovert of the family. To everyone else’s introverted personality. I was expressive, creative, singing, digging the dirt, riding my 10-speed like a BMX all over the hills, getting dirty kind of country gal. Living in my own world. “Awkward” or “Obnoxious” were the terms I heard often by my family. I was not the book smart person; I was the hands-on experiencing learner. It took several trials to read for comprehension. I flunked spelling tests on a regular basis. I went from using my fingers for counting to making dots on my math papers to find success in most basic math. My brain didn’t comprehend how math worked. I was ridiculed for this at home and at school. My thoughts would go to walking out into the pastures behind our house in hopes that the pack of wild dogs would get me at night, but I was too afraid of the dark to leave the house.

After my big sister went off to college, home life became even more of a struggle. My mother divorced her 3rd husband and we moved to a new town, a new school, a new life. I would get grounded for things that the teenagers did on “Days of Our Lives.” Or for things one of her boyfriends would or would not have done. All I knew was that I didn’t want this life. I didn’t know how to function any longer. I was accused of being a druggy to being a whore and had never done either. I was yelled at in front of fellow students and other teachers and if I cried, the yelling would last longer. My mother made sure I knew that I was stupid, fat, ugly, and worthless on a regular basis. Behind closed doors the verbal abuse was relentless. In front of her parents and selected others, she would come across as “Mother of the Year.” Talk about creating more of a confusion in a teenager’s already hormonally confusing body. So, what was there to live for? I would talk to myself about walking into the hills or going to play leapfrog on the highway. I was not sure which would truly end my life. My Senior year in high school was another new school, new town, new state, new family life, and I thought this was my chance to break away, break out, move away from the trauma. Only to discover that wasn’t the case. New emotional traumas attacked me there. I had a stepmom who truly did not want children around. She did not know how to deal with me being there and felt I was going to take my Dad away from her. It was time for me to graduate high school and decide what to do next. My mother made it clear to me that I was not capable and could not go to college in Seattle or live with roommates other than her. She convinced me that I couldn’t make it in life without her. I moved back to New Mexico.

My freshman year in college. I was a dorm attendant in the deep Southwest. The heavily religious, Bible belt community of Hobbs, NM, NMJC. There were strict rules of separation between females and males. I was working one evening when I saw a male walking into a female’s dorm room. I knew I had to report it, not knowing this would lead to death threats and my mother making sure to tell me, “I told you so.” This time I knew what it would take to kill myself. My roommate had a variety of prescription medications that combined could kill me. I walked over to the science department to say goodbye to my best friend’s dad who was like a dad to me. As I walked into the receptionist area, there was Stu. Just as if he had been waiting for me. He looked at me, with his stern voice ordering me to, “sit down and not move.” He looked at his secretary and told her, “If she leaves, call the police.” He drove me back to my dorm room, walked me to my room, made me pack a bag, and took me home. No one in my best friend's home ever spoke about, “the why.” For a week I was showered with unconditional love, hugs, and family interactions. I was driven to class daily. There were limited moments alone. This thought of killing myself fell away.

You see, back in 1991 it was still not normal to discuss suicide. Hence why no one spoke about suicide with me. Those weeks with my extended family saved my life. I honestly don’t know how much my best friend’s family knew what they did for me. For this was the start to creating new positive grooves in my brain. Regular invitations to their home became the norm. Even after college. Coming to stay with them happened often.

Soon after this incident, I found myself back in my mother’s home, drawn to the only life I understood. This was my understanding of how love was to be.

A few years later the only escape I comprehended was getting married to the first boy that asked. I did not comprehend what I was walking into. My first husband had many similar traits as my mother. Those happy unconditional love new grooves in my brain began to fill in. The pull between my married life and my mother’s house was real. We made several trips between Hobbs, NM & Deming, NM. Mom made it clear; her house was my only house. That living in Hobbs was a terrible idea. On our drives between towns, I would want to drive my car off the cliff, yet I had two stepdaughters that didn’t deserve to have their lives ended. So, I would keep driving, for them, for their lives.

Courage to move away from New Mexico to Idaho came in the form of an angel. Another way to put it, ‘my daughter was the frying pan against the head’ moment that my sister used, verbally. “Do you want your daughter to grow up and marry a man like her father?” This scared the crap out of me. “Oh Hell no.” For I knew my daughter was an Angel on earth. She was going to find a man who treated extremely well. The time had come to shovel out those old unconditional love grooves in my brain. This would also require the start of creating new grooves of joy in my brain. It was a long struggle, but damn it was one of the best struggles I have achieved.

Moving to New Plymouth, ID, I returned to college. Had three jobs while being a single mom to the most amazing daughter ever. Life was moving forward for the first time in my life. Suicide ideation began to fall away. Yes, I was scared. No, I was not cured. Yes, I still thought about suicide yet these thoughts happened less often. Not sure how to put what I was thinking or feeling about suicide at this time into words. Just that I was not going to kill myself.

Soon after relocating to ID, a man came into our lives. A hunk of a man. An intelligent, humorous, intriguing man. A man who loved me for me. Loved my perfectly imperfect self. This unconditional love was rockin’. DeWayne was a proud military man. November 2003, we found out he was called to serve our Country in Iraq. (I don’t care what your opinions are about the conflicts overseas. Keep them to yourself. For this article isn’t about that.) I am proud of my Veteran and his Unit’s accomplishments while they were in Iraq. 2004-2005 Operation Iraqi Freedom, Kirkuk, Iraq. During his tour of duty, traumatic brain injury, TBI, protocols were not in place. TBI’s weren’t even known to be happening in Iraq. Five consecutive accidents later, My Veteran came home on the advance plane due to his multiple accidents. These TBI inducing accidents have led to an ever changing daily new normal at home.

New twist on life

I am the lucky one. My Veteran came home to me, alive. The process of being a wife slowly changed to being a wife/caregiver to being a caregiver. I watched my love’s brain function deteriorate. A continual grieving process to this day. He went from a gentle man to an angry man. A frustrated man. A mentally and physically violent man.

One of my counseling sessions at the Veterans Administration Hospital, Boise, ID (VA) my therapist told me to, “leave him, call the police, for this abuse wasn’t acceptable.” Yet, in the back of my mind I knew there was more to this “new normal.” Leaving him and calling the police wasn’t the answer. Abuse wasn’t acceptable either. The military wasn’t set up to adjust on the fly to the new war wounds our soldiers were coming with. This also meant the VA wasn’t set up for the adjustments either. Battle after Battle with the Department Of Defense and Veterans Administration was continually met with hitting brick walls. Learning how to be a bulldozer became my new normal. I was having to dodge his attacks at night while he slept to eventually dodging his attacks during the daytime. My brain trauma grooves began to reappear. What was he going to yell about today? No more raisin bran in the house. As a box of Costco Raisin Bran flew across the kitchen. He would yell, “I have never liked this or that,” for things he used to like. We would watch him sit on the couch, wasting away. All while I took on the daily tasks of home maintenance, paying the bills, being his scheduler, driver, cook, maid, you name it – I did it. To include raising our daughter and trying to help keep her a kid as long as I could. Yet relying on her to help with her Daddy. Many times, I felt like the canker sore of the community because I was always needing some kind of assistance. I stopped asking for help. I was tired of hearing, “give me a call, I can help,” only to be turned down when I asked.? I would be asked what I needed help with. I would tell them, followed by silence. I had to stop working outside of the home to become my veteran’s full-time caregiver. I could no longer give bits and pieces of myself here and there. Physiologically this life-changing event destroyed my mind.

I was dying inside. Mentally melting away like Olaf in Summer. I didn’t know how to keep it together anymore. There were limited resources for caregivers who had veterans suffering with mental/head traumas. The resources that were out there had little to no understanding of a Veteran with a TBI & PTSD.

It was time to create these resources. Time to educate others. Time to take responsibility to make needed changes in the world for many of us. The Elizabeth Dole Foundation [5] began to understand the mental well-being needs of our Hidden Heroes, (Military and Veteran Caregivers.) They made it their mission to help create a network of Fellow Hidden Heroes, resources, and educational materials in support of us.

In 2012, I was sitting in the office, cleaning up, organizing it for the millionth time crying. My thoughts had moved back to, “how am I going to end my life this round,” for I knew I could not do this anymore. The emotional pain had taken over my entire body. As my daughter walked into the office, I looked up at her saying to myself, “God, you did again!” My daughter walking in was a reminder of the good in life to live for. I went back to cleaning when I came across my veteran’s unit patch at the bottom of the desk drawer. The Sneaky Snake patch in full color. The sun in the background. This reminded me that as long as the sun keeps rising, so will I. A saying that I would repeatedly say while my Veteran was deployed. At age 40, I got my first tattoo. You guessed it. The Sneaky Snake patch in all its color. My mid-life crisis, as I call it today. This was also a nice nudge from God reminding me he is here. I am to lean on him. I am worthy of God’s love and support. I was in this mentally unstable position because I didn’t know how to continue. To this day, I am damn proud of my veteran and his service. Proud of all our Men and Women and their families who serve our Country. This tattoo is a permanent reminder that as long as the sun keeps rising, so will I!

I truly love how God works through us all in many ways. My tattoo was the renewal of advocating not only for myself, but all my fellow Hidden Heroes out there. Eight years after this tattoo I had to decide what to do next. It was no longer about how am I going to kill myself? It was, “How do I protect my Veteran and how do I protect myself?”

Influences in My Life

Time to shift gears a little here. Going to speak about how losing a friend to suicide affects a survivor of suicide. Brian Mancini was a dear friend, former non-profit business partner, and a true Veteran Patriot. Following Brian’s death, I never wanted to admit my mental struggles with suicide. I felt guilty for thinking to myself, “Brian just killed himself, I am glad it wasn’t me.” What the hell am I thinking? We just lost a great man. A man who has made an enormous impact in our Veteran’s world. And here I am saying, “Oh, I'm glad it wasn’t me.” What fuck is wrong with my thinking process? For many survivors, this is all part of the addiction to suicide. Questioning oneself. Doubting oneself.? Thankful that I never took my life. Yet learning to understand how Brian’s suicide is not to be blamed on anyone. He was in a mental position we will never be able to comprehend both medically and mentally.

Armchair Expert’ Hosts Dax Shepard and Monica Padman had an episode last year (2023) where they spoke about drug addiction potentially leading to suicide. Of course, I did not bookmark this episode so I could review it and reference it for later use because I am a freaking genius ??. The point here is, Dax and Monica both made insights that opened my mind. Educating me with new insights that totally supports my new perspectives in life. Their messages were heartfelt from two completely opposite points of view. I enjoyed learning from them both. Their insights helped guide me in writing this article. Okay, it’s like, once more, God created a chain reaction. God speaks to us in many different formats.

Dax got personal with us by speaking about his drug addiction. His addiction started from an injury where narcotic pain medications lead to other drugs. That his addiction is a continual recovery process. Just like not committing suicide is a continual recovery process. This brought Monica and Dax to speak about a dear friend who committed suicide during his recovery journey. Monica admitted she couldn’t relate to what their friend was going through. That those of us who have addictions or suicide thoughts she knows she can’t relate to because she has never had to deal with either. This shows maturity and respect on Monica’s behalf. During this episode they spoke about finding things in life that are good. Creating good happenings in your life. This will mean finding new friends, a new career, a new meal plan, a new etc....

Another God created chain reaction was started when Matthew Perry died, I knew he also struggled with drug addiction. I told myself, once again, “I am glad it wasn’t me.” Then I ignored it. Well, I attempted to ignore it. When you have a daughter and her best friend who are major ‘Friends’ fans, you end up hearing about this topic a lot! Matthew Perry was also known for advocating for fellow drug addicts. I feel God spoke through this story. The chain reaction began when my daughter and her best friend kept talking about this tragedy, repeatedly. God was saying, “Jeannette, you need to face this, you need work through this, you need to give it to me.”

Eleven years ago, was my last full thought process on how to end my life. Does this mean I am recovered? Nah! It means I have shifted to being addicted to living.

I really appreciate the ‘Armchair Expert’ podcast. In my opinion, Dax Shepard used his celebrity status for good with his great friend co-hosting an episode on a challenging topic many Americans don’t want to talk about, let alone listen to. They put a reality into their show that so many of us need. I knew I needed to hear it.

Listening to this episode required many tissues. Several times I paused the episode to catch my breath, and at one point I stopped at a truck stop to walk around to take some needed deep breaths and a potty break. Thoughts of my personal history with suicide and friends I have lost to suicide had begun to flare up. Losing Brian Mancini still weighs heavy on my mind. Scott Gross’ death also hurts to this day. For me, these are clearly areas of my world that I have not fully addressed. Good news, I am addressing them now. Accepting my past suicide thought processes.

Have you asked yourself lately, “What is your Addiction?” “What is your struggle?” “What do you need to do to make a change in your life?”

My change was, no more running the rat race, no more getting up at 0430 for the gym. For my physical and mental health had taken a toll. I moved across the country to start a new life for myself. Many of my physical health challenges are now chronic. The rat race had caught up with me. I am proud to say I am not done with living. Done with the stress, not done with living.? Done with figuring out how to live and now thriving to live. (Side note, we brought my Veteran out here as well. For the advancements in polytrauma for our Veterans is greater out East.)

For my followers, you have heard this before. Something I will hold onto for a lifetime. My Grandma would always say, “Hope is an action word, now make it happen!” Well Grandma, I am still learning all the ‘hope action words,’ and all the ‘hope action activities.’ I am happy to announce that my focus is on my Addiction to Living! I am in my early 50’s now and I feel like I am living a truly blessed life. For the first time, I look forward to what today has to offer and what tomorrows may bring.??

Looking forward to the next many years to come.

I am Addicted to Living…

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[1]Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. (2023). Key substance uses and mental health indicators in the United States: Results from the 2022 National Survey on Drug Use and Health Center for Behavioral Health Statistics and Quality, Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. https://www.samhsa.gov/data/report/2021-nsduh-annual-national-report

[2] Living Works, The World’s leading suicide intervention skills training program. https://livingworks.net/training/livingworks-asist

[3] To Be Legacy, www.tobelegacy.com , Be who you were born to be, leave your legacy

[4] Honor House, Phoenix AZ – sadly is no longer operating.

[5] Elizabeth Dole Foundation, Hidden Heroes, Hidden Heroes - Join and Support Military Caregivers

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