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Beyond Surviving: Out of the Ashes

"One of the things we learned while developing and offering the services of KSF is that helping others is gratifying in itself. The need is great. The help is needed. We do what we can."

by Tom Smith

 It was on January 13, 2003 that our daughter, Karla, found a hidden .22 caliber rifle and shot herself with what the coroner called a “perforating gunshot wound to the chest.”  She was 26, charming, beautiful, intelligent, creative, three classes away from her BA in English literature with a bright future ahead.  And she was dead.

Sometimes, that’s what bipolar disorder does.  Like cancer, bipolar disorder can be fatal.

I was shocked, but not surprised, when a Shiloh, IL police officer knocked on our door and told us that “Karla Smith has died.”  That’s all he knew, but I knew immediately that, on that fateful, dreary Monday in January, she died by suicide in Tulsa.  The previous Friday she was released (against our wishes) from a Behavioral Treatment center in Tulsa where she had spent 10 days recovering from a severe episode of depression. 

She needed more time in treatment but for reasons we still don’t know, they released her.  There are many regrets that accompany a suicide.  My biggest regret is not flying to Tulsa that weekend to be with her as she began her aggressive outpatient program.  She sounded “ok” on the phone, so I didn’t go. 

Could I have prevented her death if I had gone?  I don’t know but I wish I had tried.

But that sense of regret is just one of the overwhelming emotions that often shadow the suicide of a loved one.  It took time and difficult grief work to cope with all those new and intense feelings but we have learned that it is possible to get through those uniquely painful times and live a happy, healthy life again.

One of the things that helped me, my wife, Fran and our son, Kevin (Karla’s twin) cope with her death was born the night of her wake.  There were hundreds of people from many parts of the country who attended the wake and they all knew how she died because we wrote the obituary in a way that indicated she died by suicide.  Halfway through the long reception line, the three of us commented how many people said that their mother/brother/cousin/uncle either had a mental illness or who died by suicide.  We knew then that we had to do something to help others who had experiences similar to ours.

It took us two years to decide what we would do, receive our non-profit status and begin to launch our services.  We formed the Karla Smith Foundation (KSF) (www.KarlaSmithFoundation.org) with the mission to provide hope for a balanced life to the family and friends of anyone with a mental illness or who lost a loved one to suicide. We implement our mission through education, support and advocacy.  We offer support groups, conferences, workshops, presentations, resources, website, and one on one coaching.

In 2005, our first support group had 2 people.  We now have 5 full time or part time staff members.  We sponsor 11 groups in 3 states, with more planned in the next few months.  We offer peer to peer, mentoring opportunities, family connect activities, a program for veterans with PTSD, programs that focus on the parents of children and adolescents with mental health issues, and college campus based groups.  We are soon to launch a program aimed at middle school and high school students, administrators and parents. 

In order to specify our mission and philosophy, as well as to educate and encourage family and friends of anyone with a mental health problem or who lost a loved one to suicide, we wrote three books.  The Tattered Tapestry: A Family’s Search for Peace with Bipolar Disorder tells the Smith family story of Karla’s illness and death.  A Balanced Life: Nine Strategies for Coping with the Mental Health Problems of a Loved One offers practical help for families trying to deal with the mental illness of a member.  The Unique Grief of Suicide: Questions and Hope provides hope for people grieving a suicide.

These three books, and the other materials and programs KSF provides, illustrate the practical approach, compassion, and resources we have so far created to support other families and friends who experience the mental illness and/or suicide of a loved one.

One of the things we learned while developing and offering the services of KSF is that helping others is gratifying in itself.  The need is great.  The help is needed.  We do what we can.  Want to join us?

Tom Smith retired as Director of Pastoral Services for the Diocese of Belleville and is a co-founder and President of the Karla Smith Foundation (www.KarlaSmithFoundation.org) whose mission is to provide hope for a balanced life for the family and friends of anyone with a mental illness or who lost a loved one to suicide.  He joins his family and staff in offering support, education, and awareness programs which implement this mission. 

He is also the author of seven books, the most recent of which is The Unique Grief of Suicide: Questions and Hope, multiple magazine articles, and a variety of columns. He enjoys sports, especially those teams that have St. Louis in their names, and his two young grandsons.   

He can be reached at tom.smith@KarlaSmithFoundation.org. 

Beyond Surviving: One Woman’s Story of the Loss of Her Husband and Partner to Suicide

  by Lucinda Bassett

I was with my other half, I don’t say that lightly, for 25 years.  My mother used to say, “When you’re not with him, you’re on the phone with him.”  So true.  He was my husband David, my lover, friend, business partner, and children’s amazing and passionate father.  He was also bi polar.  Did I know it when I married him?  No.  Was it evident throughout the 25 years?  Not really in the way you would expect it to be.

In fact it was the opposite.  He had great energy, was smart, creative, and giving.  He was loving, affectionate, fun spirited and always “there” for our children and me. 

Unfortunately in 2007, after a set of terrible circumstances that were, for the most part self generated by bad decisions he had made, combined with the deteriorating economy, he slowly over several months, became a man I no longer knew.  He withdrew, became severely depressed and agitated, and then even paranoid and even psychotic.  Thus began “our” agonizing journey into mental illness and eventual suicide.

It has been almost five years since his death.  I couldn’t even talk about it until two years ago.  And when I finally did, I was astounded to find out how many people have experienced losing someone they love to suicide.  As time passed, as I attempted to save my own sanity, and struggled to rebuild my family and my life,  our home, and my career, I began to realize that people who have lost a loved one to suicide need support and guidance, even just simple understanding. 

The guilt, blame, anger and shame of suicide are overwhelming.  It is bad enough that you lose someone you needed, loved and counted on to be part of your daily life experience.  But to have them deliberately “choose to leave you”?  Horrific. 

I am writing this article for the survivors.  The ones who can’t escape the pain left in their hearts. 

At first I was anxious, scared to be alone, worried about my children, their stability, our financial security, my career falling apart, what would people think?  How would I live without him?  What did I do?  What didn’t I do?  All of this is normal.

Beyond Surviving: Reaching Out In a Meaningful Way

Robert and Jeanne Segal launched Helpguide in 1999. Today, it serves over 50 million people each year.

In 1996, Robert and Jeanne Segal lost their middle child, Morgan Leslie Segal, at the age of 29.  That was before the United States Federal Drug Administration required warnings to be added to the labels of antidepressant and other medications. 

Writing about this beautiful young woman on their website, they said, "For six years, she grappled with a condition that started as low self-esteem and worsened into major depression. During this period she was given a variety of SSRI and other medications.  She stuck with a single therapeutic mode and her prescribed medications even though the combination seemed to just make her worse. Finally, in desperation, she committed suicide." 

They launched Helpguide (www.helpguide.org) in 1999, inspired by the belief that Morgan's death could have been avoided if reliable information had been there to give her a sense of hope.  Today, Helpguide serves over 50  million people a year. 

The Segals have gone beyond just surviving to reach out to others in a meaningful way.  Robert, who has an engineering degree and a master's degree in Educational Psychology, and Jeanne, a psychotherapist whose work has helped individuals and families for nearly 40 years, work together on numerous local and national boards in service to others.  Dr. Segal's books have been published in 13 languages, and her "focus is on how individuals can empower themselves and bring about life-altering social and emotional change." 

HelpGuide.org covers such topics as mental health, healthy lifestyles, children and family, and aging well.  This free resource offers information in easy-to-digest sections and includes videos and practical guides. In collaboration with Harvard Health Publications, HelpGuide.org offers free educational supplements.   

For a free self-help toolkit to “Bring Your Life into Balance,” visit their Web site at http://helpguide.org/toolkit/emotional_health.htm. 

For a listing of organizations that can connect you with public assistance, social services, and other health and human services, check http://helpguide.org/yellow_pages.htm.

Beyond Surviving: From Pain came Ministry

by Dr. David Cox

“Talking about the circumstances of his death was unacceptable. … we struggled silently with our own private pain.”

At age nine, my life shattered.  Something - I wasn't sure exactly what at first - had happened to my father.  It was suicide.

Suicide is a subject I would rather consign to a dusty corner of my mind. I would like to, but can’t, because I think about it every day. Whether in my ministry or in the shadowy haze of memory, suicide is a topic I cannot escape.

My mother waited until the night before the funeral to tell me my father had killed himself. I remember sitting on the end of her bed while she told me. I guess she delayed a day or so because she was trying to shield me or didn’t know how to tell me.

Certainly, we were all living in a state of shock. Telling me must have been one of the hardest things she ever did in her life. Finding out the truth after everyone else was one of my first sources of anger. My father’s obituary read “self-inflicted gunshot wound.” It was in print for everyone to see. Today an obituary would never say that.

Not until I enrolled in a new school (the fourth school in four years in four different states), did the impact of my father’s suicide, six weeks after his death, became real to me. As I filled out paperwork on the first day, I saw the blank that said, “Father’s Occupation.”

Then it hit me. Shame, anger, guilt, betrayal, rejection, and loss cascaded over me like debris falling from an earthquake-ravaged building. I wanted to escape, but couldn’t. There was nowhere I could go to get away from the churning emotions I was experiencing.

I was the last one to see my father alive. That was both a gift and curse. It felt strangely special to be the final family member to see him just prior to his death. But also, somewhere deep inside, I felt I was responsible because perhaps he saw me as his last hope for rescue, but I missed his cry for help.

In retrospect, I can see it was impossible for a nine-year-old to pick up on the warning signals. It is not unusual for loved ones to blame themselves no matter how unreasonable their sense of responsibility.

Talking about the circumstances of his death was unacceptable. At a time when our family should have clung together for strength and support, we struggled silently with our own private pain.

By the age of thirteen, my feelings of anger and guilt were so great I was almost dysfunctional. I missed fifty-four days of the seventh grade, locked in my room, sleeping and watching TV.

Many times parents are caught off guard by the lag time children experience between the event and the manifestation of anger and depression. They presume since a period of years has passed, the child’s present problems are unrelated to an earlier trauma.

Beyond Surviving: Childhood Loss

Elana Premack Sandler

by Elana Premack Sandler

My name is Elana Premack Sandler. I lost my father to suicide 24 years ago, in 1988, when I was 8 years old.My father had struggled with bipolar disorder for at least 20 years at the time of his death. He had tried to engage in treatment with therapists and medication, but did not like the effects of the medication he was prescribed (Lithium). Before the attempt that led to his death, he had attempted suicide once before. He had been withdrawing from friends and family for months before his death, and had admitted himself to a psychiatric hospital following his first attempt.

My family found my father after his completed attempt, which occurred in our home. As a child, I didn’t really understand what I was seeing. I also didn’t have a clear understanding of death’s finality. For a while after my father’s death, I believed that he wasn’t really dead, that he had just gone away and would eventually come back.

Once we found my father, my mother arranged for us to be taken care of by a neighbor while she managed the arrival of the first responders. When we came back to our house several hours later, my father was gone.

In the days and weeks following, we were well-supported by neighbors and friends. To this day, I have neighborhood friends who say they can remember the ambulance coming to our house. My father was mourned by many; I have strong memories of his best friend crying uncontrollably at my father’s funeral.

I think that, at the time, no one really knew what to do. Our community was very good at being supportive by showing up, bringing meals, and helping my mother manage all of the details involved with a death. Knowing that my father was in his early 40s at the time of his death, as I approach my mid-30s, I think how helpless his friends must have felt, and imagine how overwhelming it must have been for my mother to support him through his struggle with mental illness while raising three small children.

Beyond Surviving: Michelle Linn-Gust - When the Journey Changes

"I feel lucky to live in a time where grieving was encouraged along with the concept of continuing bonds. I have known my sister is still with me almost since she died."

by Michelle Linn-Gust, Ph.D.

As I write this, it’s early morning in the United States and I’m on a plane bound for Chicago after a week in England. This trip was significant because hours before I boarded the plane for London, I finished the manuscript of my eighth book, Conversations with the Water: A Memoir of Cultivating Hope.

While some books have taken me years to write, this one morphed and changed over several months and came to completion quickly. It’s a significant book because it marks a huge change in my personal and professional journeys: a year following my divorce and nearly twenty years since the suicide death of my younger sister Denise.

But this trip also was significant because it was my last scheduled talk on suicide. I did the keynote presentation at a forum for professionals who work with the suicide bereaved at the University of Manchester. Over 100 people gathered together to learn how to better support the bereaved and I had the opportunity to start the day, inspiring them with hope of what the journey can be.

I do not completely know where I am headed from here. What I do know is that my work is moving into a larger audience where I can inspire people about more than coping with grief and loss. I have been lucky on this journey; I have been around the world and spent time with people of all walks of life in their suicide grief journeys. This road has taken me places I dreamed of and more. And in that time I have always known that my sister was with me, and she still is. A friend recently wrote to me that she believes that Denise is leading me to joy, to experience all the love and happiness life has to offer because I have spent so much time working through my own losses and helping others navigate theirs.

Beyond Surviving: Jan McDaniel – Going Beyond the Sorrow

by Jan McDaniel

"I am growing ... Small words I have written made a difference in the lives of people I’ve never met. I am ready to take on new roles of leadership. And I am entering a new decade of my life in which I am once again finding joy. "

I was 21 when I met my husband, and we married a year later.  For the next 33 years, we were as close as two people can be.  He struggled with depression, but he was good and kindhearted, not just to me and our daughters, but to everyone.  I trusted him completely.  That was why it was so difficult for me to understand when he ended his life in 2007.  

He had handled a lifelong struggle with Major Depression fairly well, but he was overwhelmed in his mid-50’s and diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder in 2004.  During the worst of his illness, I tried to educate myself on what he was going through.  I took courses and did a lot of reading, talked to doctors and even created a manual for our family to help them understand what was happening and what could happen. 

Now, however, I know there is no way to prepare adequately for the sudden and violent loss that is suicide. I know there are far more stages of grief than the handful that are often mentioned.  And I know that for a small percentage of people with mental and behavioral issues, these illnesses can be terminal.

Because of my husband’s illness, I had to put my writing career on hold for a while, but gradually, as I began to look through the eyes of survivors in all stages of recovery, I felt again the need to write about what I saw.

I wanted to go beyond being comforted myself to helping guide others through the many stops and starts on the journey of grief, and the Alliance of Hope for Suicide Survivors gave me that opportunity.

Beyond Surviving: Richard Breland - Making a Difference

 

Richard Breland, Mike and Darlene

On November 1, 1999, my step-son Mike, ended his life.  Seven months later, my wife Darlene, ended her life in the same way.  Although Mike had not told us he wanted to end his life he had told others.  The night he died, we came home to a voice message from the mother of his girlfriend saying Mike had a gun and had threatened suicide.

Hearing this message, I immediately called the police and explained this was a serious crisis.  Because nineteen-year-old Mike was of legal age, police policy dictated we wait 24 hours to file a “Missing Persons” report.  We never got the chance.  The next morning about 2:30 a.m., police came to our home to notify us that his body had been found. Mike had gone to the spot where he first met his girlfriend and ended his life. 

Beyond Surviving: Sandy Walden - Finding Joy

The doorbell rang at 4:00 a.m. on Saturday morning, December 18, 2010. I remember my heart beating quickly as I moved to the door. Phone calls and visits during the hours when most of the world is sleeping seldom bring good news.

I pulled back the curtain and saw two men wearing sheriff's uniforms. Shouting up the stairs for my husband, I opened the door to let them in.

I remember them asking if Mike Walden was my son and then those most dreaded words: "We regret to inform you..." The world stopped spinning.

Mike was the youngest of three boys and only 23 years old when he died 19 months ago. My husband and I sat at the kitchen table until almost 6:00 a.m., asking one another how this could have happened. What had we missed? Had we neglected him in some way? Had Mike gotten into some sort of trouble and taken this step because he was afraid? Why, why, why, not that it mattered. We felt that we had failed in our primary job in life; we hadn't kept our son alive.

Beyond Surviving: Franklin Cook

 

Franklin Cook works nationally in suicide prevention and postvention.

My father, Joseph Cook, died by suicide in 1978 when I was 24 years old. He was struck by depression five months before he died, eventually suffering from paranoia so severe that he was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, which is where he killed himself.

After his death, my guilt made it hard for me to see myself as a good person, and my anger made it hard for me to see my father as a good person--and I often struggled with whether life was meaningless. In the first dozen years after he died, I completed college and graduate school, started my career, and did my best to be a good father even as divorce separated me from my children, but those troublesome feelings were constantly nagging at me.