Making the Best of the Bad

I never wanted to start a blog. I spent 18 years writing about my son Patrick, who committed suicide in 2006, and I needed a break. Yes, I’m a slow writer. Yes, I had a lot to learn about depression and suicide. And yes, Back from Suicide did what I set out to do. It kept Patrick's story alive, and it connected with people who have also suffered suicide. So, why start a blog?

Honestly, I’m not sure it’s the right path. Blogging is competing with over 600 million bloggers. It’s impossible. I had already written in isolation for a long time. I dreaded it every day. Who wants to write about their son’s suicide? Writing wasn’t cathartic. It put the grief front and center. I had to explain Grief with a capital G.

But after all the remembering, word twisting, editing, 

re-remembering, proofreading, copyright permissions, tax regulations, and downright sobbing on the way to publication, the main inspiration for a blog was hearing from people who related to Patrick’s depression. 

Patrick Wood was the name and the face of suicide. He was, so our family thought, the least likely person to kill himself. He was a valedictorian with perfect SAT scores, who graduated from Stanford with honors, and he was truly happy for much of his life. His death proved that depression was a terminal disease if not treated. The big conversations from those who related to depression will come. But for now, this is a small conversation about publishing.

 As an unknown author, I had to advertise. Most writers recommended Facebook. Great! I was a longtime Facebook fan if for nothing more than funny cat videos. I set up a Back from Suicide business page as Facebook required. I bought ads tailored as best I could and paid in advance. I wasn’t hopeful the ads would result in sales, but I didn’t care. At least Pat’s story was publicized, and I did get some good feedback through Facebook’s Messenger app. It was odd answering total strangers about Patrick. Most who messaged me were sympathetic. They wanted to know how to buy the book on Amazon (https://a.co/d/002ZCbAe). Some were adamant. Suicide was a sin, and I should take down the page. One writer wanted an interview.

Seeta Durjan Begui at: https://www.seetamediainc.com/ had a radio show in Florida that dealt with social issues. I was in the middle of thanking her on Messenger for the opportunity to talk about the book when my computer screen went blank. A Facebook message appeared that my account had been disabled. Facebook said my account was connected to an Instagram account, which had not followed their community standards—an account I never started. But never mind. Nearly 20 years of messages from people who wanted Pat’s book, from people who had mourned suicide, from people who were themselves suicidal, and from Pat’s friends—over 600 connections were gone. Every time I tried to log in to retrieve the messages, I was told my account was disabled. One message told me my suspension was final. Facebook gave no explanation. They provided no recourse and no way to speak to a live person in customer service because there was no customer service. I could not log in without Facebook telling me I needed to log in to find out why I couldn’t log in. 

After three emails and no response, I realized what Facebook had done. They had prevented a 76-year-old, grieving mother from trying to spread the word that suicide is not a solution.

Facebook could have been right. My account could have been hacked and some Instagram account connected to it. But it would have been helpful if I could have spoken to a real person with real human morality. It would have restored the trust and faith of others, like me, who have lost their business platforms. I did start another personal account, which I’m trying to build up along with a Back_from_Suicide Instagram account. So for now, thank you, Facebook for letting me keep Pat’s story alive one way or the other.