One mother’s experience of grief, profound loss, and post-traumatic growth
It was after I wrote the newspaper article about our family’s story—one that went viral—that I realized I simply didn’t care what others thought anymore.
I had lost one of the most precious beings in my life: my son, Charles.
Compared to that, nothing else mattered.
I had finally reached a point where my desire to tell my story outweighed my fear of telling it. (Here is the article in PDF.)
Charles had died by suicide, and I was still trying to make sense of what my life meant—and what shape my future could possibly take without one of my children in it.
I was desperate for this loss and for my life to have meaning.
I wanted to figure out a way forward immediately.
Frankly, I was impatient about “finding my purpose” long before I really understood what that even meant. I learned to coach myself to be more patient—to trust that I would figure it out, but that it would take time.
When the newspaper article was first published, my initial reaction was pure terror.
Turning it in had felt like a huge relief.
Seeing it published? That was another story.
What have I done? I thought
I had to work through my inventory of fears one by one—face each individually and decide whether I could live with it. As I did, I began to understand that none of them was as big as they had been in my head. That realization is what allowed me to move forward again.
It was around this time that I became emotionally naked—and I started a blog by that very name.
I decided I needed to lead with confidence and transparency, and to share hope. Not that the confidence showed up immediately just because I declared it.
But setting the intention mattered.
For many years, I had suffered under the weight of my son’s depression and addiction
Back then, I made the problem the center of my universe. Through my support group, I was learning not to do that. Still, it’s incredibly hard not to believe that life would be better if you could just fix that one thing.
That realization led me to the hardest questions of all:
- How could I move forward without allowing my son’s method of death to define my entire parenthood?
- How could I be honest about both my successes and my mistakes without holding myself hostage?
- How could I use these stories to help others make more educated decisions?
- And how could I be taken seriously when, by society’s standards, I had clearly “failed”?
There were many versions of the article referenced above that no one ever saw. Writing it—over the course of six months—helped me process emotions I didn’t even know I had.
In many ways, it was a debut. A debut of: I don’t give a f#@k what you think. I’m talking about these very uncomfortable topics—addiction, depression, death, suicide.
I stumbled toward purpose
It’s not some lovely, neat trajectory of steps.
I tried new things. I disliked some. I failed at others. But I never stopped.
Passion fueled the journey, and eventually I landed somewhere that felt right—and even that has continued to change and evolve over time.
The process was messy, ugly, and sometimes unexpectedly beautiful. But I always learned something and had that lesson to build on.
And while I was still sad and struggling with profound loss, letting go of my fear of judgment gave me an unexpected gift: peace.
The energy I once spent hiding the ugliness, the imperfections, and the pain disappeared. In its place was room to breathe—to live more honestly, more fully, and more aligned with who I had become.
Shedding the façade didn’t fix everything.
But it freed me.
Breakthrough Retreat: Grief—The Next Chapter
If you’ve experienced a profound loss and feel stuck, want to find a way to make meaning, or find a direction in which to go, this three-day virtual retreat (three half days) is for you. Appropriate for those who are two or more years past a devastating and life-changing loss. Any cause of death. Any loved one. How can you better define your next chapter and your loved one’s legacy?
October 22–24, 2026
Thursday • Friday • Saturday
(Three half-days, held virtually)
Details on session times, retreat format, what you’ll get out of it, pricing, and the application process will be available soon.
–> To be notified once more info is available, click here
AnneMoss Rogers is a leading wellness and suicide education expert and one of the top mental health speakers and suicide prevention speakers. Known for her powerful, motivational keynotes, AnneMoss combines her personal story of loss with proven strategies to help organizations build a wellness culture that drives results and saves lives. She speaks at conferences, workplaces, K-12 schools, and universities, delivering impactful presentations that inspire change and promote mental health awareness.
AnneMoss does this work in memory of her son, Charles, who struggled with anxiety, depression, and addiction, and died by suicide at age 20 in 2015.
Thank you so much for sharing both this piece and your article that you wrote after Charles died. I found myself truly resonating about the mental illness that we are confronted with the person we love. You wrote –
“I think this is why many sufferers don’t reach out. A lack of understanding and the uncomfortable nature of mental illness make people turn away because we think it’s ugly and we don’t want to go there. Those of us who have struggled to keep a child with mental illness stable know this agony. The lack of conversation has resulted in few resources and a lot of misunderstanding.”
And I cried as I can relate to this as I can relate, not to losing a child but to losing Martin. For myself, I didn’t talk about the nature of mental illness because most people just want to talk about mental health. But mental health, to my way of thinking, is more about finding ways to cope before one reaches rock bottom and a tool to use and draw upon for prevention.
But mental illness took away my Martin because it was an illness only kept at bay with medication. People stigmatize medication and Martin often hid about taking it, from family and friends. And if he sought support from others, he found that they suggested things from a mental health perspective. He saw a psychiatrist for years and that is what kept him fairly stable (of course, he would still often spiral into deep depression). From my side, I tried to be there for him but sometimes I just had to walk away, as I felt myself becoming angry with him – and yet he could not help it, that is the nature of a mental illness over that of a problem that is able to access the mental illness strategies which exist.
I am so grateful for your sharing about your own journey. It is inspiring and helps us share the pain of our loss.
I also am appreciative of this article written here above, for it offers HOPE that we can find a new way forward and maybe things that change our Path in life… if only just a little. As we walk our New Path, we can see the Old Path but as we keep walking, these paths eventually part and only now and then do we espy the Old Path and remember anew what had occurred. Seeing that Path occasionally through the trees and in the distant, is not a bad thing – I find that it keeps me grounded. The New Path is also good for it is New and I anticipate the surprises that will invariably come my way as I stumble across new sights, sounds, smells and the things of nature such as animals, birds and insects.
Your article has helped me in accepting that Change in inevitable even if it is oftentimes scary. But more importantly, it will help people to understand that we need to talk about Mental Illness, along with Mental Health – but in a way that I hope we not blur the two so much that one wins out (Mental Health) whilst those who struggle with the other (Mental Illness) lose because of a misunderstanding.
You have stated so many important points in this comment, Heath. I think Martin was so lucky to have your love. And while I know you didn’t react perfectly every time (who would?), he knew you loved him for who he was. You didn’t shame him for taking medication which frankly bugs me, too. I find that those who struggle with depression will stop taking it out of shame and the sudden stop can throw them in suicidal crisis. I do believe my son refused to take anti depressants because of the stigma.
People really cannot understand until they have lived with someone who has a mental illness. My friend’s wife was close to death last year from self starvation due to a deep depressive episode. He tried a group but in that group were all parents worried about kids and he didn’t feel like he fit in. That left him sort of alone, except for our conversations. His wife did the Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) and it has made a huge difference. She has still struggled with low points but much better. He and I talk about it on the side in whispers as I want to respect his privacy and hers. But it’s very tough to go through those episodes with someone you love. I know he just wanted to say “eat damn it!” But of course that’s not how it works.
Caregivers need support, too. Here in the USA, we have NAMI Family to Family and NAMI family support group. I’m not sure what you have in the UK. But I will say those groups do seem to veer towards children. And having a spouse in that situation is just as hard in my opinion. I would also argue that losing a spouse you love is just as hard as losing a child.