My dad witnessed me almost commit suicide once. I think that’s how they found out something was wrong.
My mother put a heavy emphasis on finding God. I was raised a Catholic, and am currently agnostic. But there was all that talk of “you just need to find strength in faith” etc or “maybe if we throw him in a bunch of social situations, he’ll snap out of it when he sees how much people care about him!!
My parents were supportive the whole way through, even if they didn’t understand.
They wanted me to get help. They didn’t take away my knife, they didn’t stop me from talking about suicide to other people – they knew I needed to talk to SOMEONE – but they definitely kept a very close eye on me.
They were frustrated, more than anything. They were trying so hard but nothing was working. I can’t remember how, but somehow they found me a doctor that actually knew what they were doing. They took me to my appointments regardless of what was on their plate. They made sure I saw my friends, even when I had fresh cuts on my arms. Somehow they knew that I needed distractions and as much help as I could get.