In Memory of Isaiah Ziegler-Suicide Prevention

In Memory of Isaiah Ziegler-Suicide Prevention Facebook removed Isaiah's profile six weeks after he died. This page is to educate on su***de prevention and hopefully prevent another senseless loss.

Isaiah was 17 years old when he died by su***de due to untreated depression. He was a senior at Walla Walla High School, in Walla Walla, WA. He was planning to enter the Marines after graduation and was an excellent marksman and photographer. We had tried to get him in inpatient treatment on Sept 23rd when he almost died from alcohol poisoning. Our insurance required an intake, which was not avail

able until Sept 27th. We found him dead in his room three hours before that appointment. Isaiah's death was preventable, had treatment not been delayed! We want to promote access to care and help people with depression reach out before its too late. We do not want one child, one parent, one more friend to have to suffer the loss that we feel everyday. Depression is treatable! If you are struggling right now, reach out before its too late!
1-800-SUICIDE
Text 741741

I live with a nervous system that stays on high alert. I have had to.This morning I got up at 4 a.m. to cover a sick cal...
08/09/2026

I live with a nervous system that stays on high alert. I have had to.

This morning I got up at 4 a.m. to cover a sick call. After work I pulled over safely on a side street to pick up my grandson. As I started to step out of the car, my Toyota Grand Highlander chimed: “Be aware of oncoming traffic.”

That alert saved me.

An SUV was coming from behind me at about 35 mph with its back door wide open. It would have hit me. I moved just in time!

A 35 mph impact can break bones or worse. I know life can change in a moment. I’m still here. Unhurt. And shaken.

I’m sharing this because many of us who have survived trauma carry bodies that remain braced for the next threat, whether that threat comes from outside or from the weight we carry inside. Moments like this can light up old wiring. The body remembers danger even when the present moment is trying to be ordinary.

What mattered today was the interruption: a quiet alert, a second of hesitation, the chance to step out of harm’s way, despite being tired. Sometimes the thing that keeps us here is small and almost invisible. A warning. A pause. A person. A reason that arrives at the exact right time.

If you are in a place where life feels precarious…where the next moment could tip either way, please know the outcome is not fixed. Support exists. Safety can be rebuilt in small, steady steps. You do not have to hold the intensity alone.

I’m grateful to still be here today. And I’m holding space for anyone whose nervous system is also tired from staying ready.
If you’re struggling, reach out. You matter.

Sometimes in life, we don’t have to make grand gestures to make a difference. Today, one of my thoughtful colleagues gav...
08/07/2026

Sometimes in life, we don’t have to make grand gestures to make a difference. Today, one of my thoughtful colleagues gave me this cup. It stopped me in my tracks.

Not because of the words on it…but because of what it represents.

In a world where people are silently struggling,
where someone may be fighting a battle we can’t see, kindness matters.

A smile. A few encouraging words.Showing up.
Noticing someone.Those small moments?
They can be everything.

You never truly know the impact you have on someone’s life, but I promise you…it matters.

And today was a reminder for me, too:
We are all capable of being someone’s “difference maker.”

07/10/2026

A normal Thursday morning in Sumter, South Carolina ended with a mother's scream in her own front yard.

Geoffrey Hauptman kissed his wife goodbye and left for work. Minutes later, he called Betsy and told her to lock the doors. Someone was passed out in the yard. He was calling 911.

Betsy went room to room checking on their six children. She found five.

She ran to the front door to tell her husband Timothy was missing. Geoffrey looked at her. He shook his head. And she screamed.

Timothy Barnett, 13 years old, was lying in the front yard. He was gone.

Security footage from the night before showed Timothy sitting alone in the family car for nearly two hours, frantically scrolling through his phone in the dark. Nobody knew why. Not yet.

Police took his phone and his school Chromebook. Timothy had changed his passcode just before he died, and it took months to crack it.

Eleven weeks passed with no answers. Betsy called investigators twice a week. She drove to the station and refused to leave until someone spoke to her.

Then the truth surfaced.

A stranger with a New York area code had been contacting Timothy through a secret second Snapchat account. That stranger had an explicit photo of Timothy and was demanding $35 every single day to keep it from being posted online.

One of Timothy's last messages read: "Please. I am just a child."

He was a seventh-grade honors student at Alice Drive Middle School. He played baseball, held a yellow belt in karate, and practiced saxophone. His mother said he used to wake up every morning and brew her coffee before she even asked.

He left behind dozens of su***de notes addressed to the people he loved.

Betsy Hauptman has since filed a wrongful death lawsuit against Snapchat, alleging the platform was designed in a way that made her son easy prey. The case is now part of a massive federal consolidation involving more than 600 lawsuits against social media companies.

The FBI has received over 13,000 reports of online financial sextortion targeting minors. Most victims are young boys. Most of them suffer in silence because they are too ashamed to tell anyone.

Timothy never told a soul.

If your child uses Snapchat or any social media platform, have the conversation tonight. Not tomorrow. Tonight.

And please share this post. Every parent who sees it is one more family that might catch this before it is too late.

I ran into one of Isaiah’s childhood friends today.I hadn’t seen him since he was about fourteen. Now he’s grown, a fath...
06/30/2026

I ran into one of Isaiah’s childhood friends today.
I hadn’t seen him since he was about fourteen. Now he’s grown, a father, a college student, thriving.

He stopped me in passing, smiled, and said he still thinks of Isaiah often. He remembered their laughter, their adventures, the way Isaiah made people feel seen.

He could have just kept walking. But he didn’t.
He reached out.

That simple act, a moment of connection, is what I wish my son had done that night.

If you or someone you know is struggling, please don’t ignore it.
Reach out. Speak up. Listen.
Sometimes one conversation can change everything.

Thanks for the hug Christian 💙

Thoughts? Is this possible?
06/15/2026

Thoughts? Is this possible?

05/06/2026

Blue Mountain Health Cooperative is a non-profit organization providing free, walk-in mental health counseling to those in need, offering immediate support during challenging times. Your generous donation helps us continue this vital service, ensuring that everyone has access to compassionate care regardless of their financial situation. Every dollar you contribute directly supports our mission, allowing us to reach more individuals in crisis. Together, we can make a profound difference in the lives of those struggling with mental health issues. Please consider donating today to help us continue this essential work.

https://donorbox.org/capacity-building-1

Same tree, different season.This image stopped me. Because it’s true, not just for nature, but for life, for grief, for ...
04/26/2026

Same tree, different season.

This image stopped me. Because it’s true, not just for nature, but for life, for grief, for pain… and for hope.

Today, I was brought to tears. Isaiah’s high school and childhood friend asked if he could place Isaiah’s photo on his memorial table at his upcoming wedding. A moment that should have included him. A life event he deserved to experience.

And it hurts.

But tomorrow, I know I’ll smile as I choose the photos to share. I’ll remember their silly videos, my sweet boy’s presence, and the way he made people feel. Both things can exist at the same time—deep grief and deep love.

If you’re in a season that feels bare, empty, or unbearable right now… please hold on. Seasons change. What feels permanent isn’t always forever. The pain you’re in today may not be the place you stay.

Isaiah’s life matters. His story matters. And so does yours.

Stay. 🌿

This hits deep… because so much of the battle with mental health happens in private.What people see on the outside—the s...
04/24/2026

This hits deep… because so much of the battle with mental health happens in private.

What people see on the outside—the smile, the strength, the “I’m fine”—doesn’t always reflect the weight someone is carrying when no one is watching.

The quiet moments matter:
• The thoughts we sit with
• The words we tell ourselves
• The courage it takes just to keep going

For someone struggling, “what you cultivate in private” might not be discipline or focus—it might be survival.

And that deserves just as much recognition.

Let this be a reminder:
Be kind. Be curious. Check in.
Because the strongest people you know may be fighting battles you cannot see.

If you’re struggling, you are not alone—and you don’t have to do this in silence. 💛

There’s real science behind something I’ve lived, not just believed.It’s called neuroplasticity—the brain’s ability to c...
04/11/2026

There’s real science behind something I’ve lived, not just believed.

It’s called neuroplasticity—the brain’s ability to change, adapt, and strengthen pathways based on what we repeatedly think, feel, and do.

Over time, the brain builds what it practices.

If we constantly focus on fear, pain, or what’s going wrong, those pathways get stronger. Not because we’re weak—but because our brains are wired to protect us.

But the opposite is also true.

When we intentionally practice things like gratitude, meaning, connection, or even just noticing one small good thing in a hard day, we begin strengthening different pathways—ones that help us cope, heal, and keep going.

I want to be clear about something…

I don’t ignore my pain.
I don’t pretend my losses didn’t happen.
I don’t “just think positive.”

I have lived through more than I ever should have had to.

But I made a decision somewhere along the way:
I refuse to let my pain be the only thing that shapes me.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect me—it means it doesn’t get the final say.

Every time I choose to show up, to help someone else, to find purpose, to keep going… I am reinforcing a different path.

Not an easier one—but a stronger one.

Your brain is always adapting.

The question isn’t whether it’s changing… it’s how.

And sometimes the bravest thing you can do is gently train your mind to notice that even in the middle of pain—there is still something worth holding onto.

That’s not denial.

That’s resilience.

Some stories are complicated… and some people are too.Years ago, I shared that Isaiah’s father was living under a bridge...
04/08/2026

Some stories are complicated… and some people are too.

Years ago, I shared that Isaiah’s father was living under a bridge. What I didn’t share then is the depth of his struggle.

His pain didn’t start in adulthood. It started as a child.

He has shared that as young as four years old, before he even understood what death meant, he remembers feeling like he didn’t want to be here… like he just wanted to disappear.

Those feelings didn’t go away. They followed him into his teen years, where drugs and alcohol became a way to cope… or maybe just a way to quiet what he couldn’t explain.

Since Isaiah was just six months old, his father’s life had been marked by cycles of addiction and incarceration. And today, he is back in prison.

And as hard as this is to say out loud… there is a part of me that feels relief. Because I know he is alive. I know he is not alone on the streets. I know where he is.

Mental illness and substance use don’t define a person—but they can take hold of a life in ways that are hard to break without the right support, early enough.

What people don’t see is this:
Isaiah’s father is one of the most giving people I’ve ever known. The kind of person who, if he only had $5 to his name, would hand it to someone else without hesitation.

Because sometimes…
the people who have nothing
are the ones who will give you everything.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:
We have to start talking about mental health earlier.
We have to listen more closely.
We have to see people beyond their circumstances.

Because behind every struggle is a human being who once was a child… trying to make sense of feelings they didn’t have words for.

And sometimes, they’re still that child.

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Walla Walla, WA

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