‘I Tried So Hard, But He Wouldn’t Let Me Help’: Living With My Son's Suicide

As told to Milly McMahon

When John was 14 months old, he was diagnosed with liver disease. For a while, his condition stabilised. But then, aged 11, he had a massive relapse, was rushed to hospital and pumped full of steroids. He was never the same child after that. The steroids made him bigger and bigger and he hated it. Even then, he just didn't like himself. He stopped eating, and began to starve himself.

As he got older he became stubborn, and rebellious. At high school, he was very good at sports. He did an Ironman competition, he parachuted, loved circuit training, he was really into long distance running. I think he found solace in his exercise and adrenaline sports.

He was one of the most popular boys at school, he was so handsome and always had girlfriends, but if you wronged John you were in trouble. He had a big weight on his shoulders from his illness. He thought he should be allowed to do what he wanted. He didn't want to have to abide by the rules.

He started dabbling with drugs and in particular cannabis. All his friends were doing that at the time. He wasn't supposed to drink because of his liver, but he did. He used to escape his head by going to raves. He'd always wanted to be a Marine and when he left school he applied. But he wasn't well enough and his application was rejected.

John didn't acknowledge depression. I don't think he wanted to talk to people because he saw himself as a failure. l think the rejections of life and the drugs he was doing, along with the liver disease, were a bad combination. You can't force people to talk or take help. That was a big thing about John, he just wouldn't accept help, he didn't think he needed it.

His behaviour became darker, and more destructive. His would visit his sister at university, but would then disappear and come back at four in the morning. Sometimes, he would randomly get in the car and go to London. He'd take photographs of the Underground or him alone in darkness. I asked him why his pictures were so bleak, and he said that was his outlook on life.

He was angry all the time, and blamed me for giving birth to him. He would shout and swear and verbally abuse me. He would rip apart the home. "What's the matter with you, what the fuck are you doing!" he would scream. Eventually, we had to get the police involved. I couldn't cope anymore.

Everybody tried to help. He was 20 when he was first admitted to the psychiatric hospital. The medics could never pinpoint what was wrong with him, they thought he might be a bit bipolar, a bit Asperger's. He got so down, he requested "Do Not Resuscitate" on his medical records. He contacted Dignitas and asked the whole family to go to Switzerland on a holiday so he could do it. When he would say things like that, there wasn't a hint of empathy for how that would make me feel. I told him, "If you had children you would understand why as a parent I can't do that". But he was fixed, it wasn't about me it was about him.

The last time he was arrested at the family home, two policemen had to Taser him. He was out of control and had came out the house with a baseball bat to try and defend himself. When the case went to court, the doctor wrote a letter to the judge to say that he had a mental health problem and he should be assessed on those lines. John didn't turn up to court on that day, so he was found guilty in his absence and ended up Hewell Grange prison for six weeks. After his prison assessment, he was released into an ambulance to go to the psychiatric unit straight away.

When I saw the world through John's eyes, I just focused on keeping him away from harm. But he didn't have much respect for us. It hurts me because I felt rejected as a mother. In then end, I had to speak to him in the same way he used to speak to me because that was the only language he would understand. The last few years, all we would do is argue. But all I wanted to do was to put my arms around him. I was so proud of him as a son, but he just didn't want it.

When he was released from hospital, the mental health team gave him a flat so that he could have a bit more independence. He was hesitant about going home to it, but he needed to because he was scheduled to have injections for his liver. I made him a lamb dinner before l went to work that day, cleaning in a school. He sat in front of the computer all morning, quiet. I went to see what he was doing and he was researching how to die. I begged him to move on from this and took the computer away. I didn't kiss him goodbye. I tried to hug him but he was in a world of his own.

The following day before I went to work, I said to my partner Andy, "I have this horrible feeling, will you check on John?" Andy went to the flat and could hear that the radio was on, but no one answered. He got the spare key and let himself in. John was in his bedroom. Andy went to feel his pulse but he was cold. He'd taken an overdose. He was just 26. That was two years ago.

It shouldn't have got to the point it did. We didn't realise how vulnerable boys were at that particular age to suicide. Somebody should have been there all the time for him. No support was offered to me by the NHS. After the suicide, I never even saw the mental health coordinator, she didn't have the decency to visit me. She came to the funeral and I had no contact with them again after that.

John never left a note. I feel a sense of peace for him now. I still feel guilty. I couldn't help John, but I might be able to help someone else one day. I'd tell them that human nature means you get depressed some days, and other days you will feel high, and most of the time life is just ordinary. You have to forget about the past and not think too much about the future because nobody knows what will happen. There's no point in worrying. Live in the present, try and enjoy yourself. That's what we tried to say to John. I feel a sense of peace for him now. You have to.

Whatever you're going through, suicide is preventable. The Samaritans offer 24 hour support, for free. Call them on 116 123.

The Mind infoline offers help and support on a range of mental health issues. Contact them on 0300 123 3393.