Our son Logan lived with a heart of immense courage and a profound calling to seek life's deepest truths.

 

He possessed a poetic soul, viewing the world through a lens reminiscent of Rumi. At just seven years old, he wrote a sentiment I discovered long after he left us:

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“Remember to love so you can be who you are.”

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When Logan was nine, a suddenly discovered brain tumor led to an intensive nine-hour surgery. He emerged from that procedure changed, developing a quiet anxiety that intensified as he grew. We now understand this was post-surgical PTSD, a condition now recognized for disrupting the brain's ability to regulate the nervous system.

 

By age seventeen, Logan ’s insights were remarkably beyond his years; he immersed himself in Qigong and Shiatsu, evolving into an intuitive natural healer.

 

However, an overwhelming sensory flood eventually set in, robbing him of his calm. Despite our holistic lifestyle, Logan sought clinical relief for his mounting anxiety.

 

He was never suicidal; he was simply asking for help.

 

A local psychiatrist prescribed medications that led to two emergency room visits due to severe adverse reactions. Rather than pausing, the doctor escalated his treatment to a potent antipsychotic. Within forty-eight hours, Logan suffered a medication-induced psychosis, fleeing our home in terror.

 

Instead of recognizing the pharmaceutical trigger, the system labeled him suicidal and psychotic under a 5150 hold.

 

He spent thirty days in a psychiatric ward, a label that fundamentally altered the trajectory of his care. The system's response to such diagnoses is often aggressive and rigid.

 

We exhausted every resource, selling everything and spending upwards of $30,000 a month to find a path back for him, moving constantly in search of help.

 

Eventually, trapped by the medications he could no longer stop or change, Logan told me,

 

“It’s calling me home, Mom, and it’s not your fault.”

 

He passed away two days later, wearing a t-shirt depicting hands cradling a heart.

His final note explained his departure as an act of self-preservation from the chemical burden he could no longer endure, promising that

 

“the angels will heal you, Mom.”

 

In the year of grief that followed, I wrote to him daily, and through a beautiful, transcendental process, he seemed to write back, leading to a forthcoming book titled BigLove Forever.

 

Known to everyone as “BigLove,” Logan frequently made shirts for others featuring that name.

 

He remained tethered to a source of universal love from birth, never complaining even as he navigated his immense hardships.

 

Today, we honor his heroic spirit and reclaim his narrative.

 

We do not say he passed from suicide; we say he passed from the failures of psychiatry.

 

This truth was captured in his obituary and fuels our mission at SEEN.

 

We serve as a voice for the innocent who enter the system seeking help, advocating for safer psychiatric protocols so no other family has to endure a journey like Logan’s.