The whole idea that there's a day for this is kind of strange. Nevertheless, here goes. All names have been changed to protect those who are still, in their own ways, attempting to make sense of and grieve the loss of our friend.
Katie didn't have friends: she had best friends, more than anyone I knew. And the proof was spilling out of her closet - a rainbow of satin that ruffled and ruched and flounced and flowed from the 14 dresses she'd worn as bridesmaid in 14 different weddings.
At Katie's church, they considered her gifted with that special insight that comes only from God. She had a way of knowing things that no one could know. Part of what drew her to that particular congregation was meeting one of the men there, whom she'd already met in a dream when she still lived halfway across the country. In the dream, she wasn't a bridesmaid. She was his bride.
Katie had answered our ad for a roommate. She seemed lively and fun, five feet of bouncing energy whose blonde curls were as abundant as her smiles and - well, to be honest, her hips and breasts and all the rest of her. Katie was frequently on a diet and just as often, our friend Craig would report, with some puzzlement: "I saw Katie at the bus stop on my way to work today. She was eating an ice cream sandwich at 7:30 in the morning."
Well. That was Katie. And besides, what's the big difference between an ice cream sandwich and a Boston cream-filled donut? One's just colder.
My roommate Deb and I went through some tough times with Katie. A friend who worked at a nearby psych hospital had tried to warn us against choosing her as a roomie, without, of course, violating any principle of patient confidentiality ever written or imagined.
"Are you sure you want Katie to move in?" Alison would ask, over and over. "Are you sure?
Why not? we thought. She was fun. She was cheerful. She was as committed to her church as we were to ours. The fact that her career had taken a bit of a bump - she'd worked as a TV producer in another state and was now a university administrator - we chalked up to youth, indecision, even focusing on what mattered most. We did know she'd had a stint in a psych hospital. That didn't make her unique among the people we knew. So spending a bit of time in a "recovery" job closer to her family was perfectly reasonable.
But, it turned out, family was anything but the draw. I came home to our apartment after my own Thanksgiving dinner that year to find Katie standing by the kitchen table, shaking within her brother's arms.
"Why would you say those things about Mom and Dad?" he was pleading. "You know that never happened. It would never happen."
"It did happen!" Katie returned tearfully. "And they need to face up to it. We all need to face up to it. Mom and Dad abused me in Satanic rituals for years!"
"Shhh, shhh..." He leaned his brown beard into her curls and wrapped his arms around her - she still in her navy blue pea coat, he still in his thick gray zipper sweater - as if by encasing her he could melt the icy imaginings from her heart.
to hear about your loss darling. This was such a touching story and such a tribute to your friend too...even though she demonstrated a variety of odd behavior you loved her so...it is evident in your words and story. Thank you for sharing this; for it shows those of us with a disorder, be it bp, or any other, that we are loved, we are cared for, that those we would potentially leave behiind are forever effected. I read this through tears for your love and sorrow was so evident. Know this, i have NO doubt that this young lady realized how much you cared, I have no doubt that you did all you could and knew to do at the time to help her through her ordeals. You truly touched me so much and i know it wasn't easy to share this story.
I thank you for sharing and now we can all remember your friend, now we can all realize how devastating suicide is and hopefully learn how to help others who may be contemplating such behavior. I too have had friends commit suicide; there is hardly words to describe the pain it leaves behind, and the pain they are going through at the time they make that decision. God bless you for sharing and may you know you touched a heart today;' you made another more aware of a path to help lead others from this same fate. Thank you for sharing, i know it wasn't easy. God bless you and keep you...ctrygirl
Thank you for your kind words. I can't begin to understand why it's taken so long to begin grieving this, but there have been so many other traumas since that I guess it's like one girlfriend says: I've had the gracious amnesia of PTSD. Thank you again.
My mother committed suicide when I was 15 after numerous attempts. She also was delusional w/religious stuff (thought I had Satan's blood in me) & was in & out of mental institutions. She was in the process of being involuntarily committed to a mental institution when she killed herself in a gruesome manner. She was dxed w/schizo affective disorder.
I had my 1st suicide attempt at 15 (3 mos. before she died). I have been dxed w/bipolar I. When I had my 1st child at 23 I vowed to never attempt suicide again as I knew what damage that does to a child & kept that vow (though had to white knuckle many deep depressions by locking myself in a closet to keep me from overdosing on my psych meds to relieve my pain--that is the thing, when a parent commits suicide, it models suicide as an acceptable "coping" technique).
I was able to keep that vow for 30 YEARS--until 4 years ago I had a 5-month hypo manic period that started w/excitement about a trip that started my not sleeping & then the change in time zones & then the chronic insomnia set in for good--even though I was on my meds as always--I didn't report it to my doc as I didn't know it was dangerous & as I spent most of my time depressed, it felt so good. Then my husband made a negative remark to me about the weight gain I have had since being on the anti-psychotic medication (hoping to shame or humiliate me into taking some action, not thinking I would have the reaction of trying to kill myself but that's what I did as my brain was not thinking right after 5 mos. of sleeping about 3 hours a night).
For 2 years after that I was still very shaky & scared as I felt like my illness had taken control of me. I had not been able to keep my vow. Would it happen again? Finally, after 2 years of searching for a good therapist I found DBT & did individual therapy w/her as well. I started to improve. I also had medication changes & had to promise to call my doc if I went more than 3 days without at least 6 hours of sleep. I had to be heavily sedated as it was to sleep. I guess the sledge hammer was next.
Of course, my husband is so remorseful & trying to help me "get over" my hurt & keeps reminding me that we all have our flaws & that our marriage is 95% perfect (married 36 years & were high school sweet hearts & he has been the only stable person in my life & stayed & helped me despite all my mental health issues) & reminds me to concentrate on the good stuff--our laughs together, our deep love, our companionship, our bright future as he looks forward to retirement, the joys of our children, etc.
I can see the validity of a "survivor's" day--not just for those grieving, but for those that have been "marked" or now carry on the "trait", almost like the genetic component of mental illness; once a suicide occurs in the family, it changes that family & makes it "easier" for another family member to do that behavior.
Unfortunately, both my children have had serious bouts of depression & one has had the suicidal behavior occur. What a heartbreak for a mother to see what she has wrought onto her child. How I worry & fear for them both, even though they are in their 30's & doing well, but the depressions still occur & I am always on the alert for any signs of the suicidal thoughts or behaviors (as is my husband) & we have flown across the country at a moment's notice to be w/one or the other when they seem vulnerable.
One has married & decided not to have children so as not to pass on this curse or the genes for mental illness.
A friend's 26-year-old daughter recently hung herself after being rejected by a boyfriend. I have been devastated & it has brought up all my fears & reawakened how I don't think I could live if that ever happened to one of my children.
Being a survivor means being altered forever. Some say it is a "selfish" act, but if you have never felt that total despair, pain & total lack of hope & irrational thinking that everyone would be better off without you in the world, I would say not to judge those poor suffering people. I only hope that my mother has finally found some peace as her life was a tortured one...
I am rather overcome by how much you and your family have been through. I don't feel like there's any adequate response. I don't know why some of us endure such a battle with life, but I do believe that the battle is important. God bless and strengthen you, dear one.