I had the great pleasure to meet Shauna through facebook.  Many private messages have gone back and forth, and she shared with me tidbits of her journey.  Deeply touched I asked if she would be open to sharing her story.  I trust you will be as moved as I am, for her Brave Resiliency, Acceptance, and Vulnerability.  I hope that it will Empower and inspire you to Stand Up, Speak Up and Show Up for Mental illness and suicide awareness.

November 19, 1984 was the day I was no longer a child.

By Shaunna Cousineau-Hand

This was the day my mom at 49 years old committed suicide, this was not the first attempt, there was two prior attempts. My mom was ’’raised ’’ in a convent I am unsure of the circumstances that brought her there.

She was always a very sad woman from as early on as I can remember. She was addicted to pills any kind anywhere, she also suffered migraines so we had numerous trips to the hospital for her shots. She had many doctors, there were no safe guards like there are now for people that abuse. She had two different families the first had four children then there was my family which I have a sister four years my senior.

Now I didn’t have a bond of any kind with my mom from birth, you see I was very premature, I was 1 pound 9 ounces. So I suffered attachment disorder. And there is how my relationship started with my mom.

We had a niece live with us from a tot until the day my mom passed. The reason I mention this is my sister was my dads favorite and then my niece was the ’’baby’’ which left me, just there. I have always felt not good enough.

Mom had odd behaviors, two I need to mention as they are part of the reason…

She was always afraid that the house would catch on fire, not ever founded?  When she was in her altered state, which was most of the time she would ask us to bring her a full glass of milk.

She smoked and she would use that as an ashtray, so when she put it in the glass she could feel it was out.

The other was she would wash and dry all our clothes but wouldn’t fold them, they would be put into garbage bags, and believe it or not they would then go into the bathtub.

So with that being said, that brings us to the night before November 18, 1984.

We had another fight this time it was over me taking the bags out of the tub, folding and ironing them.

She had gotten up from her nap saw this and threw everything onto the floor and cussed me out, then proceeded to call me the wrong name( an older sibling) so I knew in my mind it wasn’t her talking, it was the drugs, but the heart didn’t know so I threw a hot cup of tea on the table which accidentally got her and I left my home.

When my dad and sister finally found me walking the streets, I asked my dad to take me to social services in the morning and let me live in a foster home. And that was the plan.

So when I got back to the house I always went to my moms room to say sorry even if It wasn’t my fault.

That night however I didn’t, I was angry, hurt, and so filled with hopelessness that I couldn’t.

I regret so many things from that part of my life, but that most specially.

The next morning November 19, we were getting ready to go to the social services office and dad said to my sister “moms not up yet that we should go check on her.”

We did and she had passed in the night sometime, she was really cold but it looked like she was just sleeping.

So my sister, called 911 and in minutes(seemed like hours) we had fire trucks, ambulance, and police there.

None of them could touch her until the coroner came to say she was gone (legalities) .

Then once the coroner showed, it was horrible, they went into the room started taking pictures, they had to as it was not know cause of death at that moment.

The police officer then went into the room came out with his hat full of bottles of medicine, asked if we had a bag and went back in once he was done the bag was half full. So much shame in that moment and embarrassment we didn’t know she had hid all of this from plain site. The one medication the officer found was my dads liquid morphine that he asked mom to throw out, it was sewn into a jacket liner.

So much desperation I see for my mom in writing this even now in this moment.

So the next step was to talk with the police, I didn’t have to because of my age but my dad and sister did.

Once they had all the facts they had to take mom out, they told us they couldn’t get the gurney into the trailer so they would have to wrap her in a blanket and carry her out, and if we could sit in the living room, they would do this with much care and respect.

We did as they asked but in the end we all watched them take her away.

They had a viewing of my mom a few days later and my sister thought best I didn’t go see mom like that.

I found out in later years it was true they didn’t do a very good job of fixing mom after the autopsy.

So last step was planning moms service, a 16 year old a 20 year old and our dad going to the funeral home.

Picking out an urn for our mom… So surreal.

We did our best to move forward from moms suicide, I was so ashamed for many years I didn’t call it what it was I just said she died.

The feelings and thoughts that come up for many people around suicide are all of guilt, shame, remorse, anger, bitterness ,hurt, rage and why?

We never knew the why and I think that was ok now as my mom was in such a dark lonely place that she may have blamed. I believe today after finally dealing with this 27 years later my mom Stella Maryanne is at peace in Gods arms and is safe no more pain and filled with love….

My experience has taken me places I never thought I would go , I am now in recovery 24 years and have an amazing husband who is truly my best friend and 3 step kids as I wasn’t able to have my own, so God lent them to me, such a blessing. I have many good friends a loving family, and now I’m on a new path to find Real relationships with inspirational women.

That is where Lee comes in, I have her on facebook and the courage and strength she shows by speaking her truth. I emailed her last week with the condensed version of my story and she asked me if I would tell my story. So her courage has taught me to be ok with this part of my life and I don’t have to keep it a secret.

I will become stronger with this each day.

Words cannot express my sincere gratitude to you Lee…

Lee did say I could sign anonymous but I have no shame and I did make it thru this part of my life.

Sincerely,

Shaunna Cousineau-Hand