"Your Story Isn't Over Yet..Choose to Continue".

"And after all the violence and double talk
There's just a song in all the trouble and the strife
You do the walk, yeah, you do the walk of life
You do the walk of life"


Dire Straits- "Walk of Life"

People registering for the walk

After a slow start, participants began to roll in

During the walk (all photos are my own)

This year, it was time to take 20 years of sorrow and try putting it into action.


Anyone who knows me well is quite familiar with my struggles caused by the emotional trauma of my dad's suicide in 1998. The anxiety, depression, and fear of losing everything and everyone around me that was exacerbated by this incident has left a scar on my heart and my mind that may never heal. So, I won't go into details here. For years, I felt alone as if no one understood what I was going through. People who love and care about me would say to me things like "Learn to let go", "It's not your fault", "Time heals all wounds", "You need to forget about this". Please know, I am not upset at anyone for telling things like that to me. Y'all were just trying to help me feel better and heal and I appreciate that! However, unless you have seen what I have seen and dealt with, or went through this yourself, it is VERY hard to understand what is going on inside my mind and my heart. Therapy has helped, but it is not a cure. Medication has helped, but it is not a remedy. There are many times I still feel alone and misunderstood. I wondered if people like me, who lost a loved one to suicide, or struggle with depression and have attempted suicide themselves, have a voice.


Then I found out about the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.


The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP) is a voluntary health organization founded in 1987 by a group of families who joined with scientists to establish a source of support for suicide research and education. AFSP is now the largest private funder of suicide prevention research. It is headquartered in New York, with an office in Washington, D.C. AFSP has chapters in all 50 states, leading the charge in education, advocacy, research and support. One of their fundraising events are the "Out Of The Darkness" walks, and two took place in Central PA in September; one in Harrisburg, and last Saturday in Carlisle.


Finding out about this organization was a revelation. It was a realization that I was not alone. I knew that there were others out there who suffered because of the suicide of someone in their lives be it family, friend, co-worker or comrade in arms. I knew there are people out there who struggle with
their own demons. When you have a mind that is racked with anxieties, depression, and worry, you have no idea what could send you over the edge or what small trigger could make you decide to take your own life. It is a difficult thing to live with, and chances are even the closest people to you in your life will have trouble understanding what you go through. You sometimes feel like screaming out loud "DOES ANYONE UNDERSTAND?". You take out your anger on your friends and family because you don't know any better and you are frustrated. With an organization like AFSP, you don't have to feel alone. One way or another, you will meet someone who will understand the pain you are going through and is willing to share their story.

Tribute ceremony before the start of the walk

During the walk

At the walk, I was talking with an Army veteran who had written a book about his experiences with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). He had served four tours of duty in combat in Iraq, 3 times during Operation Iraqi Freedom, and once during Operation Desert Storm. He said that you can never be completely cured of the symptoms and you can never totally say you are free. Therapy can help you deal with it, but the feelings will always be there and some days are better than others. While he has suffered much more than I will ever suffer due to his combat experiences, I did feel a connection to him and how this does seem like a futile fight on some days. Be it seeing your best friend killed in action or finding your loved one passed out in a garage because of CO2 poisoning, that image will stay with you forever and you can't erase it. The best thing you can do is learn to live with it.


I also met another cool individual, a local race car driver named Richie Dobson. His number 55x Chevy Monte Carlo street stock runs at BAPS Motor Speedway in York Haven, PA. His motto is "Racing For Awareness", and his main sponsor on his car is the cause of suicide prevention. His own father committed suicide a few years after my own father did so. Racing fan that I am, I took several pics of the car (very sharp machine!) and looked closely at the livery (sponsor & color scheme) on the car. Typical sponsors of local racing cars adorned the machine (like Shermans Creek Inn in Shermans Dale), but the most prominent sponsor was to raise suicide awareness, with a very moving motto..."Your Story Isn't Over Yet..Choose to Continue". Also, around the suicide awareness logo was a few names, which I found out were the names of people who have lost their battle to suicide. To raise money for AFSP, he sells space on his car for people who have lost loved ones to suicide to put their loved ones' name on the car.

Me with Richie Dobson, driver of the Double Nickel Motorsports 55x

Tribute plate to Richie's late father on the front of the car

Learning that was like getting hit with a ray of sunshine through clouds of grey. My dad was a huge racing fan and passed that love of the sport on to me. He used to work on a pit crew for a driver at Silver Spring Speedway and he was a huge fan of NASCAR legend Dale Earnhardt. What could be a better tribute for my dad than to put his name on an actual racing car? So, I happily paid the fee and signed his name to a list, a list that I hope does not get bigger, because I pray no one else has to go through the pain of losing someone to suicide.


Wherever my dad is, and I pray he is in heaven, I bet he was smiling.


Yeah, to some that might seem silly, but it helped a lot in lightening a heavy burden on my shoulders. Just finding a way to properly pay him tribute is a massive step down the healing road. Dobson's car is quite competitive and he is a capable driver, so it would be awesome to go to the track and cheer
him and the 55x to victory. Then I could say, my dad's name made it to victory lane.


Dad, I will love you always and forever. My prayers for you have never ceased, neither has my mourning of your loss. My only hope is that your soul is in heaven, which is God's victory lane.


Love, your little Augie, Matt.


To learn more about the AFSP, please log on to https://afsp.org/


To learn more about and follow Double Nickel Motorsports, log on to: https://www.facebook.com/DoubleNickelMotorsport/




Your Story Isn't Over Yet..Choose To Continue

Living with survivor's guilt

"Repentant tears wash out the stain of guilt."

-Saint Augustine

September 3, 1998.

What if I was at home that day?

What would have happened if I didn't leave the house to go visit a friend in Shermans Dale to hang out, drink, smoke, and blaze a few joints? What if I came home afterwards instead of driving aimlessly along the roads of Silver Spring Township, lamenting my loneliness and my bad financial situation and fearing any reprisals that would come my way from a father who just would not let me live the life I wanted to live?

I ask myself those questions every day of my life. I live with them. They keep me awake at night sometimes. They give me nightmares. They make me question everything, especially my purpose in life and my faith in God. I can play through every detail in my mind as if it was captured on video. Ask me what I was wearing that day and I could tell you. Ask me what I was listening to musically that day and I could tell you. Ask me anything about it.

Some call it "survivor's guilt", which is part of the PTSD spectrum.

According to Psychology Today: symptoms of survivors' guilt include avoidance, feeling on edge, vigilant, detached, and easily startled. Additional signs include obsessing over what happened, feeling confused, unworthy, or ambivalent about living, harping on the meaning of life, or being plagued by the sense that no matter where you go, you’re never really safe. The resulting self-condemnation and isolation takes a toll on health and relationships. I am certain that this has taken a toll on many of my relationships with family and friends.

Carrying the guilt that you feel over not being there for a family member, friend, or loved one that needed you in the case that said person has caused harm or fatal injury to his/herself is a very heavy cross to bear. It is a cross that I really do not want to carry anymore, but I feel I have to.

Why? I was not there for my dad when he needed someone. His death is my fault in some ways.

Now, a long line of people, from friends and family all the way up to my therapist, have said the same thing: "It's not your fault". For 20 years, all I hear is "it's not your fault". Yes, that is correct. On the surface, that is 100% correct. I do not disagree with that. Yet, you are not looking deep enough. Dig deeper.

I was very irresponsible in the months leading up to dad's suicide. I was writing bad checks, stealing money from my dad's stash to augment my meager salary from my nursing home job, spending lots of time away from home, and more worried about the next pack of Marlboros or the next paycheck so I could buy a drum kit and start my dream of being a musician. Selfish shit. I should have stayed home more, then I would have known my dad was spiraling downward and his relationship with mom was deteriorating. Mom did tell me a thing or two, but I didn't buy it. Not dad, not the guy who had the balls to get up on a municipal plow during a blizzard and demand the driver clear our road so a mother with a newborn could get food for her kid. Not the guy who could put the fear of God into me with one look. Not the guy who all the kids in the neighborhood were afraid of and respected, even if they didn't like me. Not the guy who carried his family on his back and built a successful business from nothing. Not him. Mom was just telling stories, I thought. Dad's got balls of iron, nothing can scare him. He's the toughest man alive. He'll always be around, and I will be forever under his thumb.

I was yearning to be out from under his control, everything so orderly and responsible. I was wishing that something would happen so that I would be free of his authority, so I could live my life, and do what my friends were doing, living on fast food and alcohol, being wasted, writing music, playing

drums, sleeping on the floor of crummy motels, living the life of a musician (or so I thought it was at the time!)!

So, you could say, the day he died, my wish came true. Yes, I was overcome with grief, shock, and loss (because I did not want him out of my life THAT way! I was thinking more of my own place or something), but also a sense of relief and freedom I never felt before. Also, and may God forgive me for saying this, or may He punish me eternally in Hell for this...there were times I was actually GLAD he was not around anymore. Lord, have mercy on me and forgive me, please. How I could have felt gladness at all after the death of a parent is an unforgivable sin, even if it was brief and my mind would return back to reality and mourn shortly after.

Now, if I was a good, responsible son, I would have been there for him. I would have talked him out of it. I would have saved the relationship between himself and my mother. I know I could do it. What parent would turn down the wishes of their child? I could have been the glue that held them together.

But I wasn't there. Instead, I was hanging with a wastoid friend, being a wastoid, while at home my parents threw away 25 years of marriage and dad threw away 45 years of life.

So yes, in a way, his death IS my fault. I was not there to stop something I know damn well I could have easily stopped. If I didn't stop it, at least I would have tried my best, and if there would have been a struggle and I died, it would have been trying to help my family instead of  dying for something selfish. No greater love is there than a man who would lay down his life.

Also, the fact that I felt relief and freedom and sometimes even gladness at times after he was gone is an abomination, something I cannot forgive myself for. I should have grieved for him ALL the time and never felt any joy or happiness in those days afterwards. Yes, I DID GRIEVE, I DID MOURN, but not all the time. Those times of relief are a millstone around my neck. No priest can forgive that sin.

So, after digging deeper, you can most definitely see why this guilt may never leave. The guilt a survivor feels is like a penance. It's his price for survival. You're gonna carry that weight a long time. Have you had a loved one who has killed himself? A mother? A father? A brother? A sister? A child? A spouse? A friend? If so, surely you have felt the same way and still do. It's OK to feel that way and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

It is not much different from the soldier who lost his buddy in Desert Storm, or the friend who lost their co-workers on 9/11. You wonder and wonder how things could have been different, if you could have done something, anything, to save someone close to you. Even if it isn't your fault, your heart and your head will always say that it is. The hardest part is learning to live with the burden and not letting it destroy you. Somehow, I do. This is going to be with me the rest of my life. You can't cure it, so you have to find a way to live with it, and on days like the early part of this month every single year, it is a living hell.

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.