I had always perceived my family as being perfectly normal. To me, we always seemed so boring. I have one brother and my parents are still married. We often go out as a family, doing things like shopping and going out to dinner. Over the years, we have had typical family arguments, but none of these was extremely serious. Everyone thought my family was completely average. Then something happened that I will never be able to forget.

I remember the day like it was yesterday. It was a Saturday, two days after Thanksgiving, and my parents and brother had gone to Connecticut for the day. They left early in the morning and came home in the early afternoon. My mother was in a pretty bad mood, which I figured out the minute she walked in the door. My brother told me a police officer had given her a speeding ticket.

My mother was tired from her busy day, so she took a nap. I noticed she went downstairs to the bathroom and went back to bed again, but I thought nothing of it. About a half an hour later, I went into the bathroom. What I found shocked me.

On the tissue box behind the toilet was a piece of paper, held firmly down by three empty medicine vials. Curiosity drew me closer. I discovered that it was a suicide note.

The only thing I could think was Oh, my God, my mother is dead. I was frozen and didn't know what to do. I began screaming for my brother, who came in wondering what could be wrong. He looked at the note, and together we ran up the stairs yelling as loudly as we could. My father and I screamed at her and shook her to get her up while my brother called 911.

The paramedics got there in no time and eventually got her out of the house and to the hospital. There she had her stomach pumped and the doctors estimated that she had taken 60 to 70 pills. My mother was in a coma that night, but slowly recovered. She stayed in the hospital for two weeks and my family went to a psychologist shortly after her release.

I really think that the sessions helped. We were able to express our hurt and talk about our feelings. Since then, my family has become much closer and does not argue nearly as much. I want to think that this is a happy ending to my mother's depression, but I can't. I don't know if she'll ever go to this extreme again, but I can only hope she doesn't. I will always be grateful to the paramedics for saving my mother's life. I don't know what I would have done if we had lost her.

I learned one thing, though. Suicide is not the answer to anything. There is always a better way out of your problems.