Sunrise view from my back yard.
It was my senior year of college at the University of Washington. I worked as a cocktail waitress at the Tally Ho, which were restaurant lounges in three hotels in Seattle. I had worked my way up from hostess to breakfast waitress to cocktails during my years in school.
One night at work, I got a phone call from a suicide hotline. (I need give a shout out to LA from Waking up on the Wrong Side of 50 for her post about her burn and reminding me of a scar I still carry.)
The person on the line said they received a call from a family member of mine who attempted to end their life. She refused to give me any more information and quickly hung up. I called back and learned the phone call was an error. They were not allowed to give out confidential information of any kind. They weren’t supposed to call me in the first place and could give me no further information.
My parents were going through a messy divorce. I remember feeling like gravity had disappeared and at any moment I would fall off the Earth.
I left work and drove home to Snohomish to our family home, which was 45 minutes away from Seattle. I remember commuting to school and staying home with Mom as much as possible. She was the person who called the suicide hotline and gave them my work number after slitting her wrist.
Weeks later, we were at Nordstrom downtown Seattle and Mom wanted make up for her scar on her wrist. I was mortified when she approached a woman at a counter and asked for help. She showed her scar on her wrist and the woman behind the counter after an initial shocked look, was gracious and found something for my mom to cover up the scar.
Unfortunately, my internal scar never went away.
I was taking a class at the UW in radio broadcast and I had to splice together a recording. I chose the Beatles song “Help” and wrote a piece about the suicide hotline. My professor was very concerned and wondered why I had chosen that specific topic.
I am amazed I made it through the quarter and graduated.
Speaking of scars, which ones do you carry with you physically or internally?
Oh my EA, how brave of you to share that story. I cannot imagine how hard and horrifying that call and the follow up must have been for mom and for you, plus carrying that memory since and now reliving it. Just so hard all around. Hugs to you.
I spent a lot of time talking with my aunt during her visit and it brought up many memories for me. I remember being so focused on how the hotline could be so unprofessional to call me and then not tell me anything. I think that’s where I put a lot of my energy.
What a story and thing to live through. I’m sorry this happened to you but am glad that you’ve found a way to make sense of it now. I have many external scars, easy to explain, but the internal ones are elusive. Great topic to think about.
The internal scars are the difficult ones to figure out. Writing about this made it better for me in some way.
Thank you for sharing this. I’m sorry you had to experience this. As for scars of my own…probably the one from my c section…it’s a beautiful reminder but sometimes hurts because of it’s location
It wasn’t the easiest of childhoods to adulthood for me because of both parents. As for the C-section, I had two. I’ll never forget my husband blurting out in the hospital “They’re gutting her like a fish!”
My husband almost passed out
It must not be a pretty sight.
My heart goes out to you. What a hard, traumatic thing for you to go through! Thanks for sharing something so personal. We all have scars and a lot of times the inner ones are the most painful ones.
My child bears scars from “cutting”, I don’t have the physical scars of that, but I do carry the internal ones of that time, knowing they were hurting and not being able to fix it. They are doing very well now thankfully, but those scars will remain.
And that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, It gives him opportunity to share his story and pass on hope to someone else who may be hurting.
Thank you for sharing your son’s story. I think going through difficult times can make us more empathetic and caring for others. You never know what someone else is going through.
Oh sweetie. Thank you for sharing. Your mom’s matter-of-fact shopping trip and a desire to find the right cover-up reminded me of taking one of my former students to a cosmetic counter to get a thick, waterproof foundation to cover the scars on her arms from an attempted suicide and months of self-mutilating behavior. She became very adept at handling people’s gawks and gaping looks and simply said “that was part of my life before” and the trip to the department store to get cover up was a monumental moment in her recovery. She chose to use the make-up only when necessary, to help avoid the need to talk about her past with complete strangers, but as time went by, she was less and less inclined to bother. She even began wearing short sleeve and sleeveless shirts and today? She has some empowering tattoos that wind around her scars and she’s proud of every bit of the design.
I cannot imagine what it was like for you to make that 45-minute drive home that night and all that you did for your mother from that moment forward. Sending big hugs…and admiration. Carrying scars – whether visible or not – seems to be the stuff that connects so many of us and you just added to that richness. 💕💕💕
Thank you for sharing the story of your student. Yes, there was a bit of humor in purchasing make-up and the look on the sales girl’s face. My mother and I were very close and she had a tough time ever recovering from the divorce. Yes, I think our internal scars are the stuff that connects us. 💕
Agree, agree, agree. I feel honored that you would share with us…I have a new appreciation for you as a wonderful daughter…and wonderful human. 💕💕💕
Thank you! I’m getting teary eyed 💕💕💕
This is one of those times where WP stinks. There aren’t sufficient emojis or heartfelt words to simulate the actual hug I’d like to offer. Is Olive around? Give her some snuggles from me and ask her to do the same for you. Deal? xo! 💕
That’s a deal!
🥰🥰🥰
❤️
Wow, I can’t imagine how traumatic that drive home must have been.
I knew instantly that it was my mom. It was a difficult time in my life as a college student. I was talking to my aunt about that during her recent visit. Not only did I get hit by a pick-up truck as a pedestrian, I had my parents lives unraveling.
I can only imagine how challenging that must have been. So glad you made it through! There may be scars, but hopefully also a few small silver livings as well.
Yes, I made it through mostly in one piece. I do have great memories of my college days, too.
Wow. What an awful phone call to get. Thanks for sharing such a personal story.
Thank you for reading it. It was a horrible thing to happen in my life. But I’m glad I was there for my mom.
Oh Elizabeth, I can’t imagine how afraid you were on that 45 minute drive. Did you and your mom ever talk about this again after it happened?
Yes, we did talk about it. She saw a psychiatrist for years. She would talk to me about her therapy and what she was learning. I’m afraid the medications back then may have been more harmful than useful.
Oh man, I’m so sorry.
Thank you!
Thank you so much for sharing. The drive back home had to be so challenging. It’s one thing to not be able to tell you anything, but I feel they had to do something to help relieve some of your stress. Wowwww. I’m sorry you had to go through that.
Thank you, Brian. I remember being so upset that the suicide hotline would call me and then give me no information. Your story of witnessing your father’s heart attack shows that we all had struggles growing up.
I can even imagine how disturbing that phone call must have been. And unforgettable too. Hugs
Thank you!
Of course my friend. The most memorable call I got was even my brother called me that our father was breathing his last. I could hear his labored breathing in the background and he passed away during our call when the doctors were trying to ease his breathing. I can never forget that call.
That is so sad, but also I bet you grateful to be there on the phone at the end of his life.
Yes I was. He was ill and in hospital for just one night. In the morning, at the time morning call for prayers ( azan) was being recited in the mosque, he died. He never missed his morning prayer in my knowledge.
So sad.
🥲
What a nightmare for you (and your mom). My mother was also traumatized by divorce, but I think maybe motherhood was just as bad. I was too young to know about it when she was institutionalized for a time.
It sounds like you had to deal with some very difficult situations. Thanks for sharing.
I have plenty of external scars and they don’t bother me a bit. Parental rejection and abuse probably add to the internal scars, but they have faded greatly over time.
Thank you for sharing your experiences with me. We are not alone in difficult times growing up or as parents.
How difficult for you and your mom! I’m so glad you were there for her and I hope there were people there for you, too. Life is so hard — too hard, seemingly unbearable at times. We all need someone we can count on who will be there for us. I’m thankful your mom was able to reach out to the suicide hotline. I’m glad they were there. I’m glad someone there reached out to you! Thank you for your honesty in telling this story. I think this will help someone going through something similar. Hopefully, it helped you in telling it. Hugs to you! Mona
Thank you for your kind comments. I had plenty of difficult times growing up. It makes me appreciate my relatively quiet life now.
I am sure your mom was happy to have you around. I can relate to this post. My mom had a very strange relationship with her sister and her mom towards the end of her mom’s life. I think there was some suspicion over the estate (which was big), etc. My grandfather was a labor union organizer on the docks, owned a candy store, etc. more interesting activity. Anyway. my aunt and I became friends later in life after my mom passed away. I was supportive of my mom’s moods and crying over her family. I totally believe her but unfortunately there was little I could do over than listen and walk up that big hill in the Catskills which is kind of way when in a jam, I walk. Sometimes being there is the best thing. Enjoy your holidays, bleuwater! Wishing you the best.
Thank you for sharing your story. My mom had a complicated relationship with her mother too. She and my aunt were close.
My mom’s relationship with her father was very complicated. She passed away estranged from my aunt but my aunt and I later became close, once again. I suspect some tales will never be told.
My mom was estranged from her family, too, except for her sister.
Wow, Elizabeth. Amazing that you made it through that quarter as well. What a complicated situation to have to traverse at a relatively young age. I’m inspired by your strength.
Thank you, Wynne. I’m amazed I stayed on track. But maybe school was what I needed to focus on.
What a traumatic experience. Just goes to show that you can cover up a scar, but that doesn’t mean it’s healed.
So true! Thank you for reading.
Wow, what a traumatic and tragic story Elizabeth. I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how an experience like that would be difficult to heal. I don’t know how you finished the semester and graduated. Amazing. It makes you aware how much we affect others with the decisions we make. It’s not just about your mother’s attempted suicide but how that completely changed both your college experience, and I imagine, it has shadowed much of your life. You had find your own strength to survive and you did. Hugs, C
Thank you for your kind comments. I think my mom’s passing this year and my visit with my aunt dusted off some memories for me. College years are supposed to be some of the best in our lives, and in some ways mine were. I recently read in the WSJ that even as adults, we’re still affected by our parents divorces. Here’s to less drama for our children and future generations!
Beautiful sky ^^;