Tag Archives: healing

Life got better. From Suicidal Ideation to Scholastic Art Award for Photography.

The information and photography in this post is shared with permission from Preston Blackburne. It is our hope to continue to spread the message that Life Gets Better. 

Yesterday, I watched my 16 year-old son, Preston, accept his Scholastic Art Award, a Silver Key, that he won for his photo “Into the Digital Age.” The ceremony was held in the Pickney Hall on the campus at Central Oregon Community College in a large auditorium with several hundred people. He stood amongst his schoolmates, while his photography teacher and mentor, Mr. Fox, handed out each award. I struggled to hold back tears. No one knows Preston’s story like I do…

In the fall of his freshman year, he fell into the black hole of a “severe depressive episode”. I learned of how broken he was when he exhibited dangerous behavior and admitted to suicidal ideation that required immediate emergency intervention. He spent several days at our local hospital on a one-to-one psych hold, waiting for an inpatient room to become available in Portland, 4 hours away. Fortunately, time has allowed some of the painful details to fade and the memories are no longer so vivid. I do recall that I kept telling him how much I loved him and I wasn’t upset with him. There was no judgement from me and frankly I was proud of him for being brave enough to save his own life. All of a sudden parts of my own dark, depressed past shifted into place and I knew what to say, when to shut up and how to make the hard decisions to get him the help he needed.

His psychiatrist is an incredible man. Previously, I was personally resistant to using medications for depression and anxiety. During our decision making progress about which modalities to use for Preston, Dr C made a great analogy. He said to me, “If someone is drowning, do you just hand them a life-jacket and hope for the best? Or, do you give them the life-jacket, throw them a life-ring, call the Coast Guard and others with expertise to help?” Obviously the latter. He started medication, which has been modified as the crisis episode passed, that he still has chosen to continue to take. The mundane details of his inpatient hospital stays, he had two of them, aren’t important. Just believe me when I say I’ve seen this kid at his lowest points. One noteworthy moment is when he came out to me as bisexual. I said “So?” It was such a nonissue for me. I want my kids to know love and I don’t care what parts their partner has. I honestly could NOT care less. Despite all the emotions Preston was experiencing, he slowly began to believe, with some testing, that I do love him unconditionally.

At the end of Thanksgiving weekend in 2013, he showed again that he was in crisis and when we met with Dr C on Monday morning, Preston asked to go to residential treatment. That isn’t something you say “No” to. It was overwhelming and took a lot of work to arrange but we did just that and he had to wait, as an inpatient, for the bed to become available. Going to the Children’s Farm Home run by Trillium Family Services in Albany was what Preston needed. I drove the several hundred miles at least twice a week, once to visit and once to participate in family therapy. Through this process, I learned what expectations I had set and behavior that I had shown, that was damaging to Preston’s spirit. I took responsibility. I apologized. I committed to changing. (Other people in his life were unable to take less ownership of their negative contributions and those relationships have suffered.) I rarely yell now and I’ve changed my expectations about school success. Preston knows that we expect him to go to school every day, do his best by completing assignments. We no longer press about getting a specific letter grade. Instead, we encourage him to develop good behaviors and habits that will help him be successful in life.

He has really embraced the life he is building for himself. Preston has a diverse group of friends and shows them the same love and acceptance that I showed him. As a family, we have moved away from concerning ourselves with the gender binary and often have open discussions about the LGBTQ community. Life is open and honest and Preston knows he can show us all of himself. I’ve told him time and time again that I am not scared of his truth. I will be here for him no matter what.

Due to his hospital stays, he ended up without credit for the first semester of his freshman year. It was a difficult hole to dig out of, but within the last two weeks, he has completed the last credit recovery classes and is caught up!!!!

As Preston has grown into his own person, he has started sharing his artistic talent with the world. His artful expression that gets the most energy is his photography. He has some incredible photos that you can see on his website gallery https://prestonblackburne.wix.com/preston-blackburne#!photos/c1zeq . It’s a work-in-progress, but his site shows he is getting his feet wet.

He has some incredible photography mentors that include, but are not limited to; Doug H., Brian Z., and An V. With the encouragement of his photography teacher, Mr. Fox, he entered three photos into the Scholastic Art and Writing Contest for 2016. There were 300,000 entrants nationwide in grades 7-12. His photo, shown here, won a Silver Key. The accomplishment of winning a Silver is admirable in it’s own right. However, when you know where this young man has come from, overcoming the obstacle of major depression and suicidal ideation, it means even more. Just two short years ago, at this time, he was just going back to school after missing 2.5 months of school. Preston was able to go into a grocery store and get our shopping done, without having to rush back to the car in a panic. He’d only just started sleeping in his own bed, alone in his own room. Life gets better. Fast forward to yesterday, he wove through the crowd in the gallery, with his girlfriend of 15 months, to see his own photo hanging on the wall with the rest of the Silver Key, Gold Key and Honorable Mention winners. He was relaxed and seemed 100% comfortable in his own skin. As he told me, artists can dress the way they want so he was wearing jeans and one of his two Millenium Falcon t-shirts. His best accessory was his easy smile. I tried really hard not to be all mushy and cry. I failed. As I sat in the college auditorium, with his younger brother, Logan and my parents down the row, I felt overwhelmed by the feeling that he had ARRIVED! Life has gotten better.

I know that thinking “what if?”, is usually a useless past time. However, I can’t help but thinking what Preston, and the rest of the world, would have missed out on, if he hadn’t made the commitment to save his own life. Regardless of my decisions, which medical providers or facilities he went to, his success at life is because of the pain he walked through, that he faced and dealt with.

I’m so grateful that he has shared his talent and made his photography publicly available. I share his story so that other hurting people can have hope that life gets better.IMG_7715.JPG

“Into the Digital Age.” Photo by Preston Blackburne, Age 16, Scholastic Art Silver Key Award Winner 2106.

Photographs of the photographer

Last year at this time, Preston had been home from residential treatment for less than a month. He was a broken, shell of a human. His inner pain and turmoil made it difficult for him to engage and enjoy activities. It’s rare that I think about those times anymore, however last evening as he stood on the edge of a canyon, taking photos for his photography class, I was overwhelmed by the contrast.

Preston perched on the edge of the canyon above the Deschutes River.

Preston perched on the edge of the canyon above the Deschutes River.

While Preston’s depression was not my fault, the pressure that I put on him, certainly contributed to it. I was obsessed with grades and success and making sure that this start in life with a single mom, didn’t negatively impact him. I did things wrong. I admit it. I also admit that I learned from those mistakes and have done things differently. No longer do I focus on specific letter grades or grade point averages. I know that God intends to give him a future, I’m not obsessed about scholastic achievement, college or the like. I want him to have a well-rounded life experience with exposure to many activities so he can decide what he likes and who he wants to be. This term, Preston is taking photography. In my quest to stay involved and provide support and opportunities to him, I offered to drive him to Crooked River Ranch yesterday after school. He agreed and off we went. It’s a 45 minute drive, or so, from school. We chatted about all kinds of things on the way. It was a gorgeous day. 64 degrees in February with the sun shining brightly! Amazing. We parked at the trailhead at the Scout Camp Trail and took heed of the rattlesnake warning. They are likely hibernating but we were cautious just the same. The short hike out to the top of the plateau that overlooks the wild Deschutes River was nice. We did slog through some mud and pick our way carefully over rocks. What an adventure! Preston wasn’t disappointed. He appreciated the view and took photos down into the canyon as we made our way out the end. The moment that you can hear the sound of the rushing river coming up from below is one of my favorite parts about that hike. Of course he made me nervous as he got SO CLOSE to the edge but I tried not to nag. I still worry. I worry disproportionately to what is going on a good portion of the time. (My cells remember that day when he wasn’t where he was supposed to be and it takes awhile to let that memory fade.) Preston was respectful and didn’t do any daredevil moves to get the perfect shot. He had me stand “just so” and used me in some of his shots. When I wasn’t being used an unlikely model, I photographed the photographer.

Crouching to capture the sunset.

Crouching to capture the sunset.

It was exhilarating to be there on the edge of the canyon, with the breeze and the sunshine. With no other humans around, it felt like we were alone in the world. It was such an enjoyable time together. It took longer for the sun to go down that we expected so we had plenty of time for plenty of shots. When the sun did go down, Preston was able to get exactly the photo he wanted. I struggle to describe my emotions…Pride? Awe? Gratitude? Knowing that I felt so blessed in that moment, I believe I was overcome with gratitude. Gratitude that God spared Preston’s live and led him to be healed. Gratitude that Preston fought a hard fight and clawed his way back from the dark, into the world, filled with light again. Having the day off and making moments with memories like this is such a blessing.

As we walked out along the darkening trail, we discussed our time and photos we had taken. I nearly had to pinch myself for the perfectness of it all. I took this last photo as we came off the plateau and headed for the car.

Sunset 2/12/15 from the top of the Scout Camp Trail, CRR Oregon

Sunset 2/12/15 from the top of the Scout Camp Trail, CRR Oregon

Today, after starting the day with quiet reflection, I’m excited to take yesterday’s momentum and positivity and let it infuse today. This evening, I’ll be driving Prestont to Detroit Lake to spend the weekend with his Dad. I don’t feel resentful or bitter. Yesterday’s adventure was my time and no one can steal that joy. So blessed by the second chances and beauty in life.

Love and hugs, Rebecca

Memory mayhem

This last week has been brutal. I’ve been on edge and struggling to participate in the here and now. I’m in conflict over how much time and attention I should pay to my memories of this time last year. Those memories, are causing serious mayhem. Long ago nightmares are a routine occurrence, yet I struggle to fall asleep even with pharmaceutical assistance. When I feel out of control I restrict and binge on food, either not eating enough or over indulging. My out of whack emotions are running the show and driving my life. I cried at work twice this week. While the people around me go about their normal every day lives, I’m almost obsessing about how AMAZING things are now with regards to the health and wellness of my older son. The only way I can deem them as amazing is because of what I am comparing them to in my mind…

This time last year, as the leaves fell from the trees and the air turned crisp, a few weeks into the school year I experienced the most terrifying moments I’ve ever had as a mother. It was Monday afternoon and I sent P a text that said “Are you dead?” It was a play on the phrase from Smurfs when Gargamel asks Azreal, “Azreal, are you dead?” It was a meaningless joke. I got the strangest text in return. Two words that showed me in such a short instance that your entire reality can spin on it’s axis. He text said, “Not yet.” What? I couldn’t make sense of his reply. Did someone hijack his phone? Was he trying to be funny? The reply I was expecting was that he had made it to the lobby of the building and he was waiting for me to be done working like he did every afternoon previous. I remember asking him, “What? Where are you?” His reply. “In a tree.” Me. “What tree?” Him. “In a tree by the ER.” Me. “What? Are you joking? Who is this texting? Him. ” It’s me, Preston.” Me. ” If it really is you, Preston call me!” Never have I more desperately wanted the phone to ring. I was in a sheer panic at that point. Confused and not yet comprehending how serious things were. The phone rang and when I answered it all I heard was anguish and pain and horror in Preston’s crying. As I started to make sense of the explanation about where he was, I ran out of the clinic and around the hospital complex to get to the emergency room entrance area. I don’t know specifically what words I said but I know “I’m coming, I’m on my way, I’ll be there, I’ll help you,” were all included. When I got to the area of the ER entrance, I realized how many trees there were. And that I could NOT see the branches or trunk of a single one because they are huge evergreens. I stayed on the phone every moment with Preston. I asked him to help me find him. My heart fell out of my chest and splintered into a hundred pieces and blew away in the wind. I could hardly breathe and my hands went numb from the panic. While it felt like 50 years, after a few minutes, he was able to direct me to the tree he was in. The tree he was 25 feet up in. That he would not come down from. I see every moment as if it were yesterday, not a year ago. It makes me nauseated to think of that afternoon. Of the pain that he lived with that I missed. People asked me about changes in his behavior, I hadn’t recognized any. Teachers and administrators hadn’t either. We all nearly failed him. Even in his darkest and most dangerous moment, my beautiful son knew that he could count on me to save him. But I didn’t save him. I helped him save himself.

There is much more to this story but I need a break for tears and a few moments of escapism TV and an attempt at a good night’s sleep.

Some of you may be wondering why am I writing this down and sharing it so publicly. I have to let these memories out and use them for good. To lessen their power and malignancy and their toxicity. My wish is that they will provide hope for someone else. To show fight the stigma against anxiety and depression and show that our normal family was rocked to our core and WE won. We wake up grateful everyday that God called us by name and WE listened.

Love and hugs, Rebecca