I am happy that this thread was created and that it is permitted, with strict guidelines. It is such an important topic. As for my contribution, I feel my share is more as a person who lost a loved one to suicide than as a person who ever struggled with severe suicidal thoughts. That's not to say that during my depressions and mixed states that I didn't wish the pain to end. Of course I did. Also, during my mixed states, "calls for help" were common for me, and landed me in the hospital a couple times.

If anything I write below is not within the guidelines, I understand if it needs to be removed/reworked.

On June 10, 2017, my family lost a beautiful young man. He was only 24 years old. He was my sister's youngest son, and a nephew to me that I was particularly close to. He had, indeed, had a very rough childhood and youth because of bipolar depression. Perhaps his Asperger's Syndrome was also a contributing factor. Suicidal thoughts, threats, and attempts were not uncommon for him. The first case of this was when he was only about 7 years old. In a six year period, between 17 and 23, he was hospitalized 9 times, some of the times he received ECT. He went through the same types of issues with medications as many of us go through. Then maybe one (or one and half) years before the date mentioned, he decided to quit his medications cold turkey. Unlike me, who when I tried that a couple times, I immediately became terribly manic with psychosis, he had a lovely "honeymoon period", as I called it, for about a year. He lost a lot of weight and felt very well, and even started a job for the first time in his life. He developed a passion for photography, which he excelled at. All seemed just marvelous, but then that feeling started to fade suddenly. What caused it? There were absolutely no obvious triggers.

Like a tidal wave, my nephew was overtaken by bipolar depression again. He had no life preserver of any kind. He had long before not only quit the medications, but also seeing a psychiatrist or therapist. The risks to his life were voiced, and taken somewhat seriously, but it was too late.

A little over a month before we lost my nephew, he called me and said he wanted to take me out to lunch. I remember being somewhat unwell then, mood-wise, and almost refused the date. My husband urged me to accept, so I did. I'm so glad I did! So we went out to a Chinese restaurant, and for the first time he insisted on paying. I was touched! Then he asked if I would take a walk with him. Again, I almost refused, but decided to accept but say that it should be a short walk.

My nephew took me along a path in the woods. His favorite path towards his very favorite spot in the world. There, I took a photo of him, not knowing it would be the very last photo ever taken of him. I recall asking him to help drag "his old aunt" back up the steep slope. As we walked back towards his home, we heard peeper frogs and identified several birds. When I was about to part from him for home, I gave him a big hug and told him I loved him. That was not usual for us, because people in my family are not big huggers, and my nephew, perhaps because of Asperger's, wasn't usually comfortable with them.

A few weeks later, my nephew was hospitalized because of suicidal threats. At the hospital, they had to start his medications from scratch. He was only there three days before he convinced them he was OK and wanted to go home. Upon his discharge, the only medication he was on was Lithium, and he was only taking 300 mg. He was a 6' 6" man on only 300 mg of Lithium. One would think he would have needed at least 1,200 mg Lithium, and would need to stay safe on that (or other therapeutic dose) for at least a week or two, for minimal safety. But he came home...and then only days later, he was gone.

The loss of my nephew to bipolar depression has caused trauma for my family, and the disorder stole the life of a beautiful young man. Of course my sister, brother-in-law, and other nephew have needed intensive outpatient treatment because of the loss. My brother-in-law's opioid addiction grew worse. My father's alcohol addiction grew worse. I had/have to work my most extreme coping skills and have the above story going through my head causing "I should haves", "I could haves", "If only I had's" torture me, at times. It's affected my brother, too, and surely others. Truth is, it was a tragedy! No one was at fault. Mental illness is just hell. But that's not to say that it must take people.

Attached is the photo I took of my nephew that last time I saw him. Just weeks before we lost him. He was alive. If only I could grab him in a hug again, but I can't. The loss of him, in a physical state, is permanent.