Woman Complimentary
September 2017
West Georgia TM
The Faces Of Suicide A Loving Tribute
Dawn Lawler
Learning to Live Again 1
This publication is dedicated in loving memory of all of those who have lost their lives to suicide. They will remain forever in our hearts ...
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What’s inside ... 10
Learning To Live Again
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Depression: One Size Doesn't Fit All
22 The Faces Of Suicide
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30
Tristan Alexander Brooks
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Gay Nell Harvey
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Warning Signs Of Suicide
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Jullian Amber Lawson
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William Austin McCloud
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Michael Lubie Perdue
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Help A Child With Youth Mental Health First Aid
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Please Don't Use The Phrase "Committed Suicide"
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Sometimes Depression Is Not Always Sad
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Books About Suicide For Children
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End less Heartbreak
On May 15, 2017, my beautiful nephew, Tristan, would have been 24 years old. I think a lot about what he would be doing now if he were still alive. I wonder what he would look like after two years – almost in his mid-twenties. What would he be doing with his life? Would he still be working, or perhaps pursuing another path in life? He had talked about going to college. He was so intelligent. It makes me sad to think of what could have been had he not tragically died by suicide two years ago on Sept. 17. Before Tristan passed away, I didn't know much about suicide. That was something that happened to other people in other families, certainly not in ours. In fact, September – the month Tristan died by suicide – is Suicide Awareness Month. I wasn't aware, and neither was the rest of my family. But I want you to be aware of it because I never want you to become a suicide survivor like me. We began publishing our annual suicide awareness issue one year ago in September, and the response from our communities in West Georgia was quite overwhelming. I want you to know that you may be able to help save the life of someone in your family, a student or a friend just by asking a few simple questions: • How are you dealing with the things that are happening in your life? Do you ever feel like just giving up? • Are you thinking about hurting yourself? • Are you thinking about dying or having thoughts about suicide? • Have you ever tried to hurt yourself before or thought about suicide before? • Do you have a plan? Have you thought about when or how you might do it? • Do you have weapons or items in your home or around you that you might use to hurt yourself? Asking someone these questions won't make them do something self-destructive. In fact, giving them an opportunity to talk about their feelings may reduce the risk of them acting on those thoughts. If they are having thoughts of suicide, don't act shocked or judgmental or tell them to snap out of it. Be respectful, acknowledge their feelings, encourage them to call the suicide prevention lifeline and offer to help them take the necessary steps to seek professional help. Most important, do not leave them alone, and remove all items they may be able to use to hurt themselves. To find out more about suicide and prevention, please go to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention website at www.afsp.org and help us fight suicide in West Georgia. By educating yourself and others about suicide, you may save a life one day. May I ask a favor of you? World Suicide Prevention Day is on Sunday, Sept. 10. Thousands of people around the world will light a single candle near a window at 8 p.m. to show their support for suicide prevention, to remember lost loved ones and for the survivors of suicide. Would you light a candle with us to remember our loved ones included in this issue and the other beautiful souls who left this world too soon? Also, if you have a moment, please say a prayer for our precious Tristan and our family on Sept. 17. In This Issue Our cover feature this month is Dawn Lawler. She is a survivor who lost her precious 16-year-old daughter, Elizabeth, to suicide on April 12, 2016. Losing a child to suicide is a parent's worst nightmare, but with her incredible resilience, her faith, friends and church family, she is learning to live again. Read Dawn's story of hope and surviving on page 10. Beginning on page 22, we honor the faces of suicide in West Georgia, which includes remembrances and photos contributed by their loved ones. These survivors have shared the memories of their loved ones with you in hopes of helping other survivors navigate the loss of a special person to suicide, or perhaps help save the life of someone who may be contemplating suicide. We are so thankful to them for their honesty and their courage. We have created a video in honor of our loved ones who were included in this issue. Please go to our website, www.westgeorgiawoman.com, or our Facebook page @WestGaWoman to watch the video. See you soon,
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Publisher
Finding our voice. Knowing our value. Making a difference. TM
West Georgia Woman is a voice for and about the women who live and work in West Georgia. Our mission is to engage, inspire, and cultivate a cohesive community for all women in West Georgia by sharing our hopes, our dreams and our lives. This magazine would not be possible without the inclusion of our advertisers. Please be sure to show your support by doing business with these VIP’s (very important partners) so we will be able to continue to share with you our stories about amazing West Georgia women! Please be sure to tell them we sent you! Inspiring women wanted. Do you know an interesting woman who should be on the cover of West Georgia Woman? Is there a special project or organization you would like us to feature in our magazine? Let us know! Email your suggestions to: features@westgeorgiawoman.com Share your special events. Send your upcoming events to: calendar@westgeorgiawoman.com
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Volume 2 • Issue 11 September 2017
Publisher/Editor
Angela Dailey angela@westgeorgiawoman.com
Copy Editor Editorial Contributor
Shala Hainer shala@westgeorgiawoman.com
Photographer for cover and page 8 Keith May
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Editorial Contributors
Sydney Dailey, Janet Flanigan, Cheryl Francis, L.P.C., Dawn Harvey-Grundy, Lauren Holverson, John W. Miller, M.D., Tina Thompson Occhipinti, Ivey Perdue Rollins and Debra Price, LPC, CPCS
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Zachary@westgeorgiawoman.com Angela Brooks Dailey, owner and publisher of West Georgia Woman magazine, has lived in West Georgia most of her life and has a deep love and appreciation for the area. She received her B.B.A in management from The University of West Georgia in Carrollton, Ga., and is a Civil and Domestic Relations mediator and arbitrator registered with the Georgia Office of Dispute Resolution. She lives in Carrollton, and has two wonderful children, Zachary and Sydney Dailey. Angela enjoys reading, spending time with her children and extended family and loves to watch Sydney play soccer.
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W
Learning to Live Again
hen Dawn Lawler was a new 9-1-1 Operator in January 2016, she made a stack of flash cards as study tools for learning the law enforcement radio codes. While flipping through the cards during a study session, she happened upon a new one tucked into the stack. On the card, her daughter Elizabeth had written “I love you Mommy – Elizabeth.” Finding that surprise card lifted Dawn’s spirits during her study sessions. That same card now rests in a place of honor on a console table in Dawn’s living room, propped against a lovely green urn containing the cremated remains of her beloved Elizabeth. The thoughtful daughter who lovingly wrote that note to her mommy died by suicide on April 12, 2016. She was only 16 years old.
Starting Out Dawn was raised by devout Roman Catholic parents. Her father, Frank Ellis, was an identical twin and an ordained Roman Catholic priest. After seminary, he was placed in a church in Louisville, Ga. While serving in the priesthood, Frank became ill with appendicitis and as was the custom for priests, was treated at St. Joseph’s (now Trinity) Catholic Hospital in Augusta. While hospitalized, he met a nurse named Carolyn, felt an immediate attraction and eventually fell in love with her. But he took his vows seriously and prayed about the dilemma for a few years before he decided to leave the priesthood to marry her. He became a well-respected journalist, writing for local and regional newspapers, and continued to serve the Lord in other ways for the remainder of his life. After they were married, Frank and Carolyn discovered they were unable to bear children and decided to add to their little family through adoption. Dawn was born in Arkansas, and Frank and Carolyn lovingly adopted her as their own.
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By Janet Flanigan
A Family of Her Own
Dawn grew up in Douglasville where she met and married Brian Lawler, who was also raised in her hometown. Together they had two children, Matthew, then Elizabeth. Elizabeth was born in Austell on Sept. 23, 1999. When Elizabeth was just a baby, Brian received an excellent job offer with an automotive company in Orlando, Fla. They knew a move to Florida would take them far away from family and friends, but they decided the move was a good opportunity for their family. They enjoyed life in Florida, and lived there for about seven years. But when Brian’s grandmother became ill, Dawn and Brian wanted to return to Douglasville to live closer to family. They loved the idea of raising their children surrounded by loving family in a small-town environment. Like most parents, they doted on Elizabeth and Matthew, and wanted to give their children a wonderful upbringing. Friends, fun, faith and family were foundations in their lives. Dawn and her parents were charter members at St. Theresa Catholic Church in Douglasville, and after the move, Dawn and her children worshiped at St. Theresa where the kids attended Sunday school. As young children, Elizabeth and Matthew were involved in a myriad of activities. In elementary school, Elizabeth enjoyed gymnastics, sketching, painting and singing, and she was a member of the Douglas County Youth Singers for two years. She also joined the Girl Scouts of America, where Dawn actively served as her troop leader. Sketching and painting were constants that would later become an important part of Elizabeth’s life. Through her art, she was able to express her innermost feelings in a way that she couldn’t through her words alone. Matthew also participated in scouting, and stayed active in the Boy Scouts of America and earned the rank of Eagle Scout. Today, at age 20, Matthew participates in the NYLT (National Youth Leadership Training) program where he mentors
Photos by Keith May
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younger scouts.
A Tender Heart “Elizabeth always had such a huge heart for all living things,” Dawn relates. “She had an especially deep love for animals and could not stand to see anyone or anything hurting.” If an animal was found deceased – wild or otherwise – Elizabeth felt it necessary to bury the animal so it received a respectful end to life. Dawn and Brian indulged Elizabeth’s love for animals by giving her two dogs, Murray and Bella, and two fancy spotted pet rats, Remi and Rexi, whom she loved to carry around on her shoulders. Fancy rats are especially intelligent, friendly, clean and receptive to affection and training. A hamster named Boomer was later added to the eclectic mix. Elizabeth lavished love and attention upon all of her pets. She cared so deeply for animals she dreamed of becoming a small animal veterinarian, though later on she thought she might want to pursue a career as a vet tech – as long as she could work with animals. “Her 8th birthday party is one of my favorite memories,” shares Dawn. “Elizabeth wanted to have a birthday party where she and her friends could ride horses and swim in a pool.” Given that the family had neither a pool nor horses, Dawn wondered how she could pull this one off. “I researched and found a wonderful couple who held birthday parties on their farm, and the kids could ride horses, have a swim in their pool and enjoy a birthday cake,” she says. Although Elizabeth was very excited about her party,
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Matthew and Elizabeth
she made an unselfish decision about her birthday presents. “She told me she wanted everyone to buy her a stuffed animal,” remembers Dawn. “Before I could jump in and say something like ‘It’s not polite to ask for gifts or tell your friends what to buy for you,’ Elizabeth quickly added she wanted to donate the stuffed animals to the local children’s hospital.” She wanted to help scared, hospitalized children by giving them a soft, stuffed animal to hold for comfort. “Elizabeth said, ‘I have enough toys and don’t need anything else, but there might be children who do need them,’” Dawn shares. Pictures from that birthday party show a darling slip of a girl, with shoulder-length light brown hair and a huge smile, happily bouncing along on a gentle pony. Dawn particularly loves another shot from that day showing Elizabeth confidently guiding a different horse by a lead rope, while a friend happily sits astride the mount. Dawn says Elizabeth was a highly sensitive young girl who seemed to feel things more deeply than others. “When her great-grandmother died in 2011, Elizabeth took it hard,” shares Dawn. “We were all obviously very sad, but after the Saturday funeral, her dad and I were back to work on Monday, and Matthew went back to school. Elizabeth needed an extra day at home to recover.” Near the end of seventh grade, Elizabeth came home from school one day and announced she wanted to try out for the eighth-grade cheerleading squad at Yeager Middle School. Dawn shares that this revelation came completely out-of-nowhere as Elizabeth had never expressed a prior interest in cheering. She practiced hard and was so thrilled when she was selected to the Yeager Stallions cheer squad after her first tryout. She was named back spotter, which is one of the trickiest positions in cheering. The back spotters are responsible for catching the fliers – the girls who do stunts while catapulted in the air. The fliers completely depend on back spotters to safely catch them and Dawn says Elizabeth understood this, and took her job very seriously. A photo from her cheerleading days shows a lovely girl, in a classic cheerleading stance, proudly sporting her cheer uniform in the light green and blue school colors. Elizabeth loved nature and mother earth, and was very “green,” shares Dawn. She felt very
connection and stayed in touch on social media, even after Jullian moved to North Carolina. This kind of easy friendship was indicative of Elizabeth and those with whom she made an acquaintance.
Suddenly, Things Changed
A few of Elizabeth's drawings. She had a passion for sketching and painting.
passionately about the world around her and shared this passion with others – insisting on recycling and taking care of the earth’s resources. Elizabeth’s nature was empathetic and loyal, which Dawn suggests may be part of the reason she had so many friends. As the eighth grade year was ending, Elizabeth was asked to a dance at another school where she didn’t know anyone except her date. At the dance, while Elizabeth’s date was talking with his buddies, a vivacious young lady named Jullian Lawson introduced herself to Elizabeth and complimented her hair and dress. They made a nice
Elizabeth moved on to ninth grade at Alexander High School, and it is difficult for Dawn to pinpoint exactly when things began to change for her daughter. On the outside, it appeared things were fine: at Yeager Middle School she had many friends, and gaining a spot on the cheerleading squad was a big accomplishment for her. She had a close relationship with her family, pets to dote on, she excelled in academics and other activities. But inside her body and mind, a fundamental shift was beginning to manifest in her life. The teen years are often difficult for kids and their families. The child is growing up and separating from parents and grandparents, they often become moody and secretive and find it difficult to communicate with the adults in their lives. Elizabeth remained close to her family, but internally she was silently dealing with incredible turmoil. “When she hit high school, I do not know what happened,”
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shares Dawn. In April 2015, Elizabeth made a first attempt at suicide. “She found legally obtained medication in our medicine cabinet such as Nyquil, Benadryl, and Hydrocodone (left over from a procedure for Dawn), and took them all at once,” she relates. “In all, Elizabeth took about 100 pills.” Discovered at home, Elizabeth was rushed to the hospital where she received emergency treatment and survived. “I had no idea she was having such dark thoughts until she did that at home,” Dawn says. After the suicide attempt, the toxicology report disclosed many of the pills contained Tylenol, and Elizabeth was given an antidote to combat Tylenol toxicity and potential liver problems. After she was released from the hospital, Elizabeth went directly for treatment at Ridgeview Institute in Smyrna, a private hospital treating patients with mental health and addiction issues. The family later learned that a year prior in 2014, her friend Jullian, the same girl she met at the eighth-grade dance, had died by suicide. Elizabeth had kept in touch with Jullian since their meeting, and was aware that her friend had ended her life at just 14 years of age. (Publisher's Note: Photos of Jullian and a memoir from her mother, Tina, are included on page 46.)
Searching for Answers At Ridgeview, Elizabeth received two weeks of inpatient and two weeks of outpatient treatment. She was diagnosed with anxiety and depression, and was prescribed a couple of medications – including Prozac. The family found therapists closer to home for Elizabeth after she was released from Ridgeview. “She and I were very close, and we did have more than a few conversations about what it would mean if she died by suicide,” shares Dawn. “What it would do to me, her father, her brother and her grandparents. But I now realize it is not about me or anyone – except the person who is suffering. They just want the pain to stop.” The prescribed anti-anxiety and depression medications were not helping Elizabeth. In the months following her suicide attempt, she began to exhibit more manic-like behavior, which is characterized by extreme highs followed by extreme lows. “Elizabeth would be feeling ‘up,’ talking faster and faster and faster and bouncing and moving all over the place,” Dawn explains. She describes her behavior as “uncontrollable and uncontained energy.” After flying high and chattering a mile a minute, Elizabeth would crash very low, with no energy or desire to communicate beyond staying in
her room behind a closed door. After that initial suicide attempt and hospitalization, Elizabeth was admitted for treatment an additional three times. Dawn says she and Elizabeth once took a quiz in Psychology Today Magazine. The quiz asked questions about possible bipolar symptoms and Elizabeth answered yes to 23 out of the 26 questions. Some of Elizabeth's favorite things. The possibility of a bi-polar diagnosis was discussed with Elizabeth’s medical team, but they said there was no known family history of bipolar disorder and they decided not to pursue it. Dawn has since developed a relationship with her birth family and discovered that her half-brother completed suicide at age 19 and was possibly bipolar. But that information came too late to help Elizabeth.
The Last Year Elizabeth had always been a top student, made all A’s throughout elementary and middle school and was accepted into the gifted program. By the time she entered high school, trying to deal with her depression and subsequently missing many days of school for treatment made keeping up with her studies more difficult. When she was able to attend school during her freshman year, Elizabeth participated in show choir and the musical programs at Alexander. She continued to share with friends and family her desire to end her torment, but Dawn says she also learned to say what everyone else wanted to hear. Elizabeth once told her best friend that she was thinking of jumping off a bridge over I-20, and he called Dawn and told her. Elizabeth told Dawn she was only joking, but Dawn didn’t believe it was a joke. Elizabeth had discovered she couldn’t scale the high fence over the bridge. One day, she showed Dawn a pencil sketch depicting a backside view of a young girl with angel wings. But the wing on the right side droops sadly
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and there is a slash of red where the wing joins the back. Elizabeth told her mom it was a selfportrait expressing that she felt broken like that wing – a broken self that prevented her from soaring. Her parents listened with shattered hearts to their daughter’s tortured anguish and provided support however they could. Elizabeth knew Brian and Dawn would do anything in their power to help her, and although she continued to struggle, they never gave up on her. During this time, Dawn’s father had been suffering the effects of Parkinson’s disease for a number of years, and his pain had increased to the point that he was having difficulty caring for himself. Dawn decided to move back into her childhood home to care for him, but his pain continued to worsen. On April 11, Frank discovered one reason for his elevated pain when he was diagnosed with stage 4 prostate cancer, that had spread to his bones. His doctors wanted him to stay hospitalized for at least a week, and during that same week, Dawn was traveling for work to middle Georgia to complete some 9-1-1 training. In the early evening on April 12, Dawn was relaxing in her hotel room after a long day in class. There were the usual hotel noises of loud talking, car doors slamming and luggage rattling when Dawn heard a loud, insistent rapping noise. Given all the other cacophony of the hotel, she didn’t even realize the banging was on her own hotel room door. She heard a co-worker’s voice in the hall saying “Yes, that is her room.” Dawn opened the door and a policeman stood at the threshold and said “Your daughter is being rushed to the hospital right now. You need to get home.” Dawn drove at top-speed the two hours home to the hospital, but it was too late. Her beautiful daughter was gone. Later, the family pieced together the final events of that tragic day. Elizabeth had visited her grandfather in the hospital around lunchtime. After work, Brian and Matthew had plans to attend a local scout meeting – Brian served as a treasurer for the chapter and Matthew was continuing his leadership
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work with the Boy Scouts – and earlier that afternoon Brian had sent Elizabeth a text to ask what she wanted for dinner that night, but did not receive a reply. However, receiving no reply wasn’t unusual when she was experiencing one of her “low” times. Brian came in from work, changed clothes and he and Matthew headed out to the meeting. Elizabeth remained in her room with the door closed. While her grandpa was in the hospital, mom was out of town and dad and brother were at a meeting, Elizabeth took her own life.
Trying to Move Forward While Elizabeth had attended church as a young girl, as she got older and ached from her pain and sadness, she had begun to pull away from the church and sometimes questioned God’s existence. But Dawn felt these changes came about as part of Elizabeth’s suffering and she wanted her daughter to receive the Catholic burial rites. Elizabeth’s funeral was packed, and Dawn and her family greeted mourners for over five hours. “I wanted to speak to each person there, to thank them and to remind them to look out for one another,” recalls Dawn. Elizabeth’s beloved grandfather had to remain
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“With therapy, I have been better able to cope with the anxiety and depression.” Matthew tried to manage on his own at first, but quickly realized he could use some positive therapy assistance and was helped with professional guidance. During the time Dawn had been living with her father and caring for him, she and Brian decided to separate from their marriage for a variety of reasons. They remain a close unit, regularly dining with Matthew and attending family events together.
Honoring Elizabeth’s Spirit The family took some small comfort in the fact that Elizabeth was an organ donor: her eyes helped with corneal transplants; her heart valve was given for a transplant and she was able to be a tissue and skin donor for skin grafts. Elizabeth loved cute clothes and was a good dresser, and the family decided her wardrobe should be given to young people who would appreciate the stylish outfits. The local Department of Family and Children’s Services office gratefully accepted her clothing to share with their clients. While cleaning out Elizabeth’s closet, Dawn found a beautiful black and white photo of her daughter. It looked like a modeling headshot, her head slightly turned with a
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winsome smile playing on her lips. “I had never seen this photo before. It was so beautiful, but I had no idea who had taken it or why,” Dawn remembers. A short while after that day, Elizabeth’s art teacher from Alexander High School contacted Dawn and told her he had a self-portrait Elizabeth had drawn. When she saw the portrait, Dawn immediately recognized the pose in the sketch – it was drawn from the photo found in the closet. The photo and “mirror image” sketch are prominently placed in Dawn’s living room. The family wanted to have a Celebration of Life for Elizabeth, separate from her funeral. They held the celebration on Sept. 23 – Elizabeth’s 17th birthday. Additionally, to pay homage to her generous and loving spirit, the family remembered the joy of Elizabeth’s 8th birthday party and her decision about the stuffed animals. Friends and family were asked to bring plush toys to Elizabeth’s Celebration of Life. They were collected and given to local fire departments and rescue squads to provide comfort to frightened children riding in ambulances. Prior to her death, Elizabeth had acquired three new rats which she named Louise, Abigail and Rose. The family recognized another way to honor Elizabeth was to make sure her rats were provided loving care and a good home. One of Elizabeth’s best friends said she had the space for the rats’ elaborate habitat and would give them a wonderful and loving home. The family was comforted knowing Elizabeth would be happy that her pets are loved. Murray and Bella, the two family dogs continue to receive love during their visits between Brian and Dawn’s homes.
United In Grief “I keep trying to remind myself that Elizabeth was clearly miserable,” Dawn recalls. “Her depression and feelings were very real to her and the medications were not helping. She just wanted the pain to stop.” Elizabeth left a note for the family expressing remorse for leaving them such hurt – but told them she felt she had no choice. She articulated her deep love for her family and asked going forward that they please try and be happy. While she struggled to make it through each day, Dawn knew she needed some additional help outside of therapy. She began attending two support groups: Survivors of Suicide and The Compassionate
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Friends. Survivors of Suicide provides free meetings for anyone who has lost a loved one to suicide, and The Compassionate Friends provides help, support, friendship and understanding for families who have experienced the loss of a child. She suggests survivors find assistance and compassion in places where they are comfortable. Dawn found the support groups helped her immensely, and hopes it will help others. “What we have in common is our feelings, and the loss itself,” she shares. While attending a Survivors of Suicide meeting, Dawn noticed an attractive, well-dressed older woman at the meeting and felt drawn to her. Later in the meeting, attendees shared stories about their loved ones. The woman spoke of her 14-year-old granddaughter Jullian who passed away in 2014. Dawn realized this was the same Jullian who had befriended Elizabeth back at that eighth-grade dance. Dawn was able to share with this grieving grandmother how kind Jullian had been to her daughter, and there was a moment of connection outside of the bonds of pain and loss.
One Day At A Time It has been a little over a year since Elizabeth died. Her first birthday, the first Christmas without her and the first anniversary of her death has come and gone. Matthew continues his studies at Georgia State University with a major in physical therapy. For the Lawler family, life is no longer the same, but they are working hard to move forward with their lives without Elizabeth. The pain is still very raw, but it’s important for Dawn that other survivors dealing with a loved one’s death by suicide know they can make it through the tremendous pain and devastation – although they may not feel like they can during certain moments. “It is survivable,” she relates. Dawn got her first and only tattoo last year. On her forearm and written in black ink is the name Elizabeth – traced from Elizabeth’s own handwritten signature. Next to her name is a tiny red heart and below the signature are the Latin words “Requiescat in Pacem," which translated means “Rest in Peace.” No words could say it better. WGW
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Depression: One Size Doesn't Fit All 20
By John W. Miller, MD
D
epression is a word we hear often, but don’t always understand. While we all feel down from time to time, depression is a serious mental health issue. And with 18 million Americans suffering from some type of depressive mood disorder, it’s a common one.
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Learn the Different Types of Depressive Disorders Generally, depression is defined by persistent feelings of sadness and hopelessness that don’t go away on their own. It could last for a few weeks, months or even years and often gets worse without treatment. However, we know more about depression today than we ever have before. We understand that a “one size fits all” approach to diagnosing, treating and managing depression doesn’t work. That’s because there are different types of depressive mood disorders, which – along with medical and family history – call for a tailored treatment approach.
Major Depressive Disorder One type of depressive mood disorder is Major Depressive Disorder (MDD). Individuals with MDD feel depressed, hopeless or sad for at least two weeks. It’s a serious mood disorder, and can greatly impact your physical and mental health, keeping you from enjoying your favorite activities. Even within MDD, there are several different types of disorders. Those include major depressive disorders with: • Atypical features • Peripartum onset (previously post-partum depression) • Seasonal patterns • Melancholic features • Psychotic features • Catatonic features
Persistent Depressive Disorder Persistent depressive disorder (PDD) generally has milder symptoms than MDD, but it lasts longer. Two or more of the following symptoms must be present for at least two years to be diagnosed with PDD: • Feelings of hopelessness • Overeating
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Lack of appetite Insomnia Excessive sleep A lack of energy Indecisiveness Inability to concentrate Low self-esteem
These categories of depressive mood disorders, including MDD and PDD, aren’t meant to confuse. Rather, they’re meant to help you and your health care providers better identify the type of depression you’re experiencing, and create an effective treatment plan. If you need to talk to someone about your mental health, please schedule an appointment with your physician today. If you need to find a doctor near you, call Tanner Health System at 770.214.CARE (2273) or visit Find a Doctor. You can also contact Willowbrooke at Tanner’s 24-hour help line at 770.812.9551. WGW
John W. Miller, M.D. with Behavioral Health of West Georgia is located in Villa Rica. For more information, visit www. BHWestGa. org or call 770.812.3530. 21
The Faces
OF Suicide
By Angela Dailey Letters from survivors: Sydney Dailey, Dawn Harvey-Grundy, Lauren Holverson, Tina Thompson Occhipinti and Ivey Perdue Rollins. 22
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hat day – the day I literally felt my heart explode into a thousand pieces, was a perfectly beautiful September day. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. It was perfect. I've often reflected on that day, and always come to the conclusion that it wasn't right for that day to be so beautiful. It should have been dark and stormy and foreboding – indicative of what was to occur in just a few hours. We should have known what was coming – we should have been prepared – but we weren't. Nothing prepares you for a loss like this – nothing. The events leading up to and after my beautiful 22-year-old nephew Tristan passed away are burned into my memory for a lifetime. If I close my eyes, I can replay every single moment like one of those awful songs that gets stuck in your head and plays over and over and over again if you let it. I try not to remember that day too often; the pain is just too overwhelming. I remember screaming when my dad told me Tristan had been life-flighted to a hospital – his destination unknown at the time. Tristan had attempted to take his own life. I remember the denial I felt – that this wasn't really happening. I knew this was all a nightmare. I would wake up soon, and when I did wake up, I would call Tristan and tell him about this crazy dream I had. I would tell him how much I love him, and if he ever feels
like he needs help, to please call me – that I would be there for him in an instant if he needed me. But it wasn't a dream. It was a real-life nightmare unfolding in our family – and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I remember pleading with God to let Tristan live. I remember calling my son, Zach, telling him to come home, and hearing him yell in anguish and disbelief over the phone. I remember finding my daughter, Sydney, in her room curled up beside her bed on the floor in the fetal position, crying. She heard me screaming as I was talking to my dad on the phone and ran up to her room. I remember the way the grass felt beneath my knees as I collapsed on the ground after the nurse at the hospital told me Tristan was gone. "Is he alive?" I yelled into the phone, hoping beyond hope that he was. She hesitated for a moment and said softly, "No, honey. He's not alive." I remember her name, and I remember what time she said her shift would be over. I remember she asked me numerous questions as I was struggling to comprehend this
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awful reality that had become my life – our lives. "Do you know why Tristan would do this?" "No," I sobbed. "He's just a baby," she said. "Yes," I Tristan as a toddler. He had a tremendous zest cried. "He for life. He had a great sense of humor and was is like my extremely intelligent. He gave the best hugs. own son. Oh God, oh God, oh God, why is this happening? Why?" I told her I wanted to see him. I had to come see him. "He needs me," I said. "No," she said. "No family member wants to remember their loved one like this. Don't come here, please." If I had it to do over again, I would have went anyway. I should have been there for him. For a long time I resented that nurse for telling me not to come to the hospital. I felt she took that away from me – the opportunity to touch him, hold him and kiss him one last time. The opportunity to tell him "goodbye." Of course, I know she was right. That would have been just another memory of that horrible day that would have been played out in my mind over and over again, but it hurt knowing I wasn't there for him. I couldn't tell him how much I loved him ever again. I remember crying – sobbing uncontrollably for months after that day – I still do sometimes. I remember it all, and I desperately want to forget everything about that day. But I never will.
The Impact Of Suicide When someone you love deeply dies by suicide, you are haunted by the memories of what happened before they passed, and you're haunted by thoughts of what they were dealing with at the time of their death. You replay every single conversation you had with your loved one, wondering if you missed something. Wondering if you could have said or done something that would have changed the outcome. "The person who completes suicide, dies once. Those left behind die a thousand
deaths, trying to relive those terrible moments and understand ... why?" (Clark, 2001), or, as Dr. Kay Redfield Jamison says in her book Night Falls Fast: Understanding Suicide: "Death by suicide is not a gentle deathbed gathering: it rips apart lives and beliefs, and sets its survivors on a prolonged and devastating journey." That is my reality, and the reality of many others.
The Phases Of Trauma If I could explain one thing, I would tell people how the survivors of suicide – those left behind to mourn the loss of their loved one – often experience substantial trauma many times over.
Immediately After Suicide • The survivor feels shame that their loved one died by their own hands. Suicide is still stigmatized in society by too many. The survivors are afraid to speak of the cause of their loved ones' death, for fear of their friends and family's reactions. • Survivors are plagued by guilt and shame, and are sometimes made to feel as if they don't have a right to grieve their loved ones who have died by suicide, because that right is only given to those who have lost someone to natural causes or horrible accidents. The grief is the same, and can be worse on some levels. • The survivors are asked endless questions such as "Didn't you realize he was contemplating suicide?" or "Why didn't you do something to help her?" Trust me – the suicide survivor's worst critic is themselves. They ask those same questions, and more, of themselves and go through hell on earth trying to make sense of the loss.
The Funeral or Memorial Service • Endless platitudes are doled out liberally by well-meaning friends and extended family. "Don't question God." "This was all in God's plan." "Something good will come of this." "He's in a better place now." "Everything happens for a reason." "At least you have more children." "At least you still have your mom, or your dad or another sibling." • These platitudes hurt, in spite of the wellmeaning intentions. No one wants to believe God planned the horrific demise of their loved one for the greater good of humanity. If you believe that, fine. But please refrain
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from telling any suicide survivor these wellmeaning, but unhelpful platitudes.
When Life Goes On • Sometimes, as early as a few weeks after the death people will say, "Aren't you feeling better by now?," or, "Why can't you get over this?" For those of us who have lost a loved one to suicide, it is a very lonely time indeed – wrought with anger, anguish, guilt, questions and unbearable pain. Only two weeks after Tristan passed, I was crying in the middle of the day when my partner said, "I'm sorry, I'm done. I can't deal with your grief anymore. I tried, but I just can't be here for you anymore." • We learn to stuff our feelings and try to pretend everything is OK, when that is the furthest thing from the truth. We learn not to talk about our loved one with those who live with us, such as our husband, wife, boyfriend or girlfriend, because they didn't lose their child, close relative, parent or friend to suicide. • We resent those closest to us who don't want to try and understand our loss. They don't know what it feels like to lose someone they love to suicide, and they want to know why we can't snap out of it and be the same person we were before. We can't just flip a switch and be OK. We are sad and broken and are experiencing deep, traumatic pain, guilt and intense grief. • We learn to stop asking them if they would like to attend a memorial, or go to our loved one's graveside for holidays or special occasions, because they don't really want to be there. They didn't love them like we do, and they don't understand. They will never understand, unless it happens to them one day, and we sure as hell don't want that. We are silent shells of the people we used to be. We put on a happy face for others, but are experiencing deep emotional pain and trauma on the inside.
The Social Media Critics
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• Cruel and thoughtless comments are posted on social media about this or that famous – or not – person who has recently died by suicide. • Our news feeds are bombarded with selfrighteous and judgmental opinions about how the writer presumes to know exactly what that
Tristan's last photo. This was taken on September 16, 2015 – one day before he passed away.
person was feeling at the time of their death – and "How dare they be so selfish!" "They had children!" they will say. Or, "I could never do that to my family members." The truth is, suicide affects all ages, races, cultures and religions, and no one really has any idea of what that person was going through at the time of their death. Passing judgment on someone who isn't here to speak for themselves anymore only hurts those who are left behind, and prevents the survivors – or those who may be having thoughts of suicide – from speaking openly. Survivors of suicide, and those who are struggling with suicidal thoughts or contemplating suicide, should be met with compassion, love and kindness – not judgment and shame.
Mental Illness Is A Real Medical Problem If we are to prevent suicide, we must talk about it and address it head-on by educating ourselves and others about mental illness. Mental illness is just as real and as devastating as any other illness like cancer, Alzheimer's or heart disease. It destroys our loved ones and hurts those who are left behind to deal with the grief and devastation. One in five U.S. adults experience a mental illness, and 90 percent of those who die by suicide have some type of underlying mental issue, according to the National Alliance on Mental Illness. Suicide is typically the end result of multiple
factors composed of often complex situations leading up to the person’s decision to end their life, which may include psychiatric illnesses or mental disorders that may not have been recognized or treated, such as depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, schizophrenia or bipolar disorder, or substance abuse. Every 40 seconds, someone dies by suicide worldwide, says the World Health Organization. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says in the United States, suicide is the third leading cause of death in children age 10 to 14, and the 2nd leading cause of death in people age 15 to 34. We have to get real about suicide and speak openly with our children and loved ones to prevent more of these senseless tragedies from happening to those we love. We must change our language and opinions about suicide, so people can get the mental help they need instead of the alternative. Suicide is happening, and it can happen to you or someone in your family. We cannot bury our heads in the sand any longer and pretend our kids – and people of all ages – aren't dying from this! Suicide is the 10th leading cause of all deaths combined in the United States, and every 12.3 minutes, one person dies by suicide, which
results in 117 Americans taking their own lives every day, according to the American Association of Suicidology. Ask your loved ones if they are having thoughts of suicide, and get them treatment if they are. One of the largest and most devastating myths is if you talk openly about suicide, you may plant that idea into the person's head. This is simply not true, according to studies on the subject. Trust me, you don't want to be the one who says, "I wish I had asked," after the fact. Just ask. I wish I had known about suicide and asked Tristan before it was too late. Educate yourselves and your loved ones so you don't have to go through what survivors of suicide go through. No one deserves to go through this – no one. The following pages include the many faces of suicide, stories from survivors in West Georgia and photos of our loved ones who lost their lives to mental illness by suicide. We share our stories with you to honor our beautiful loved ones, to bring awareness to our communities, and to hopefully save lives. They deserve to be honored and remembered. Their lives had meaning, we will continue to speak their names and let others know they were here with us, and they will never be forgotten. It's not too late for you or your loved one. Talk to them. WGW
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Tristan Alexander Brooks May 15, 1993 – September 17, 2015
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Keeping On
Written by Sydney Dailey, Tristan's 1st Cousin.
The incredibly wise Winston Churchill once stated, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” I understood what he meant by this quote in the Fall of 2015. I have always been very close with my family. We do everything together, and we love each other dearly. In September 2015, my family went through a time of sorrow and mourning over the loss of one of our own. This event in my life story is one of grief, and most certainly learning. On that warm September day, it smelled of cut grass and fallen leaves. I came home from school and retreated to the sofa to take a nap, knowing that I had soccer practice at six that night. I was awoken from my tranquil state by screaming like I had never heard before. My mother was on the phone with my grandfather, screaming something that no one should ever have to hear. The words still ring in my ears. My beloved cousin, who was more like a brother to me, had been lifeflighted to the hospital. But it was not the result of a car crash, or a heart attack; my cousin Tristan had injured himself. My mother 31
ran upstairs to her room and started to pray, praying that somehow he would live, and praying that he would still be with us. For an agonizing hour and a half, we did not know where he was. We called every hospital in the area, hoping that someone would tell us that he was there, and he would be just fine. Eventually, we received an answer and the receptionist on the other end told us that they had him, but we did not receive the news we had so badly desired. Tristan, with his bright blue eyes and such a loving heart, had passed away from suicide. The next days were torturous. Going through the viewing and funeral was so mentally and emotionally draining that I was exhausted no matter how much sleep I got. “I’m so sorry for your loss.� was a sentence I became all too familiar with. Floods of people sent their condolences to us, and it did give us comfort that so many cared for our precious family member. There are so many emotions affiliated with loss. Disbelief, mourning, and even anger are just a few. Our whole family was overcome with a sadness that seemingly
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had no cure. In the bustle of daily life, it became easy to be distracted, but the quiet and still moments were, and still are, the most arduous. Closure is what we are searching for, even after two years, but it does get easier. One silver lining to this seemingly never-ending dark cloud we were under was seeing Tristan’s two little boys. Coen was 3 years old and Finn was 2 months old when it happened. As we watch them grow up I only wish that Tristan would have kept going like we all do, because it always gets better eventually. This tragedy has shown us so much about taking things for granted, and about life in general. We have learned to always tell the people most important to you that you love them, because some people do not have that luxury. Winston Churchill'’s monumental quote has inspired us to keep going, because it will get better. It shows us that we will not accomplish anything by sitting around and being sad. We must work through it and make a difference. So please, as Winston Churchill once declared, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.”
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Gay Nell Harvey January 21, 1952 – February 23, 2009
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Written by Dawn Harvey-Grundy, Gay's Daughter.
The afternoon of Monday, Feb. 23, 2009 is the moment I began to think of my life in terms of before and after. Every moment suddenly became labeled as either before I lost my mom or after. On that day, after struggling for many years with depression, my mother took her own life. If you have never had an event in your life where you realize the phrase "broken heart" is a very real, literal, physical manifestation of grief, then, God bless you, and I pray you never do. If you have, then you understand that when I say my heart was broken, I sincerely mean, my heart hurt as if it was being crushed. It hurt to breathe. It hurt with every beat like it was breaking into. It still does sometimes. Maybe it always will. I don't know. Let me start at the beginning of my life, to say I was so very blessed to have an amazing childhood. Growing up, Mom stayed at home with me, and Dad was a coal miner. I grew 35
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up in a small town where everyone knew everyone else and you smiled and waved at people passing by. My mother was extraordinary (as was my father, but today it's about her). She was the epitome of the perfect stay-at-home mom. She was pressed, dressed, and she always impressed to say the least. She kept the house spotless. She had me all ruffles and curls when need be, but let me be dirty and muddy like a child should as well. Her cooking ... well, (pause for dramatic effect) glorious adjectives aren't enough to describe how amazing she was in the kitchen. Friends wanted to come to my house instead of me staying with them because they knew we would walk in after school to chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal no bake cookies, and Rice Krispy treats (no not one ... ALL of those). They also knew bubbling away on the stove would be the best meal they'd eaten since the last time they were at my house. She was the PTA president, the Room Mother (as we called it when I was in elementary school), and the ever present
force driving me forward with positive inspiration and encouragement as I grew up. She was always running to and fro taking me to this event or that practice or this dance or gymnastics lesson or out for fun with friends. I will never forget her reply to someone when asked if she got tired of always running with me. She said "If I need to pick her up from something at 2 o'clock in the morning, I will, because a busy child is a child who isn't in trouble." Her rule was that I could always participate in any activities I had time for as long as my grades were always A's. If the grades dropped, then she said she would be the one who picked what I did and didn't do. Well, no teen wants that so I kept the grades right where she liked them. I'm not trying to bore you with my life story. I'm just making it clear that Mom was amazing. Everything she touched turned into something wonderful. Sadly, she didn't feel this way. She struggled with self esteem and never felt she was good enough or smart enough. 37
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She struggled with anorexia and bulimia (though she kept it well hidden from the family). A child would never have seen that behind that smile she always wore she was fighting her own internal battles. Only as an adult did things become more clear to me. I noticed changes in her physically and how she was eating less and less and growing more and more distant. She would try to pass it off as stomach and pancreas issues and say that if she could eat she would. Loving someone it is very easy to be blind to the truth of what is happening when they are denying and laughing off suggestions that there may be a problem. She suffered from ulcers and digestive issues, which I realize now were likely lasting complications of life long abuse of her body struggling with eating disorders. She was getting sicker, physically and mentally. She began to sleep all the time, never wanting to get up or out of the house. She just kept saying she
was going "through a phase" with her stomach and pancreas and she would be fine if she just rested. Of course, to deflect us, she would get angry the more we questioned her in her effort to get us to leave her alone. Finally, one day my dad called me in a panic because she was very "out of it" and he couldn't even get her blood pressure to read. She was yelling at him to leave her alone and then yelling at me on the phone that she'd be fine if we would just let her rest. I had to tell her if she didn't let Dad take her to the hospital I was going to call an ambulance so she had two choices. Furiously, she finally relented and went. She was placed on IV TPN (intravenous feeding) due to severe malnutrition. She continued to say she was having severe stomach pains and couldn't eat, but no testing would show any cause for it. Either Dad or myself was always present at the hospital. She suffered a few absence seizures where she would stare into space and not acknowledge you were speaking to her. She had starved herself to the point she was not cognizant of her bodily functions and would have accidents on herself only realizing after the fact that it happened. Then, one afternoon as I was cleaning 39
her up after an accident, she had a completely lucid moment for the first time since we had brought her to the hospital. She started to cry and apologize for putting us through any pain. She said she would get better and start eating again. My heart lifted and I really thought, OK, she's going to make it. Now, years later I realize, most likely, she was hoping she would die before we managed to get her to the hospital and her death would look like it was health related. I believe she felt if that happened we wouldn't think it was a suicide if she died. As troubled as she was, I still believe she was trying to die, but spare us from knowing it was suicide. Sadly, we only had a few weeks of improvement and Mom began to deteriorate again. She stopped eating. She stopped getting out of bed. Her mind had not bounced back after her stint in the hospital. She began to say she couldn't remember how to fix her hair or how to use the washer and dryer. We just kept encouraging and saying we were here to help and she was going to be OK. She had been placed on several new medicines to help with depression during her hospital stay and had seen a psychiatrist.
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To see my once vibrant, charming, go getter of a mother become this shell of a person was crushing. It's easy to say, "Oh, why didn't you see this happening? Why didn't you get more help? Why didn't you MAKE her get help?" Being on the inside is different, however. Hearing excuse after excuse and constant denial from someone you trust with your whole being saying they promise they don't have a problem. They promise they are just sick and will get better and they swear over and over that they are trying to get better. I believed her. I believed her when she said, "Please trust me, that it's just my pancreas, and it hurts to eat. Please believe that I would eat if I could and I'm not trying to hurt myself. Please believe me that I love you and I'm trying." You would have too. Just like me you would believe the good. You would believe it because you want to and you need to. You would believe it because why would
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my mom lie about that knowing how worried we are? You would believe it simply because it's your mom. My mom wouldn't say she was fine if she wasn't ... but she did. She did say it, and she wasn't fine. On Feb. 23, 2009, my mother died by suicide. I am thankful that I knew her and was part of her. I couldn't have prayed for a better mother, and I will never be the same. That may sound clichĂŠ, but it is true. Now that time has passed since her death, I try to only see the bright, funny, boisterous, mountain of magnificence that was my mother. I don't see the person she became before I lost her. That person was ill, and I have accepted that. That person carried a burden inside her that she could no longer bear, and that no one except she can understand. Yes, I'm still mad at her. Yes, I'm still hurt and confused by her. I'll never know how hard and long she
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tried before she just couldn't any longer. But I love her. I love her just as much today as I ever have. I accept that I did my best to be a good daughter and to show her she was loved. My strength now comes from knowing she has achieved the peace she could not find on this earth. I hope she is proud of me, of the woman I keep striving to be. Some days, I feel her, and I could move mountains I am so strong. Some days, I still find that I need to hide in the house. Sadness grabs me and I just can't face anyone. I have sobbed on my knees begging God to just give me the strength to go to work. Some days I am just not strong enough. Maybe I'll always deal with that. Maybe one day I'll conquer it. Who knows? What I do know is that I am forever changed. I am forever changed because of this wonderful creature who gave me life and taught me to live it while hiding her own pain. She gave of herself constantly, performing true random acts of kindness for others wanting nothing in return. Many of these acts I only learned after her death. She never boasted about the good she did. She did it because it was right ... not for credit or acknowledgment. She just wanted to make
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someone else's life better. She succeeded. I love you Gay Nell Harvey. Thanks for making me who I am. Thanks for teaching me humility, compassion and love. Since losing you, I have faced some bitterness. For awhile I lost my sense of compassion for others. I found myself feeling burdened rather than blessed. I let my heart get heavy and felt sorry for myself. I've had to fight my own self pity, but, don't worry Mom, I think I'm finding myself again. Chuck helps me every day. He reminds me that on bad days when I'm missing you so terribly that I can't stand, that it's OK to lose a battle sometimes because we will always win the war. And I will, Mom. I will win this battle we call life. I will always keep fighting to take care of what and who God has blessed me with. I may fall down sometimes, but don't worry because just like you taught me ... I WILL ALWAYS RISE.
Grief is the price of love Love without bounds. Love without limits It will break your heart If you submerse yourself in it. Grief it will stab you Grief it can break you But the love you have held Will carry and take you. It will hold you and keep you It will sustain and it will lift Your heart though it's broken Will beat on with love's gift. So be prepared to ache, To cry, to yearn, to yell Fight on my dear friend Though I know it hurts like hell. Each day will begin again A chance to start anew Though grief it overwhelms you Love it carries you through. Love it will empower Love it makes you smile Death cannot defeat it Love makes the grief worthwhile. ©Dawn Harvey-Grundy
Warning Signs of Suicide • Talking about wanting to die • Looking for a way to kill oneself • Talking about feeling hopeless or having no purpose • Talking about feeling trapped or in unbearable pain • Talking about being a burden to others • Increasing the use of alcohol or drugs • Acting anxious, agitated or recklessly • Sleeping too little or too much • Withdrawing or feeling isolated • Showing rage or talking about seeking revenge • Displaying extreme mood swings The more of these signs a person shows, the greater the risk. Warning signs are associated with suicide but may not be what causes a suicide.
What To Do If someone you know exhibits warning signs of suicide: • Do not leave the person alone • Remove any firearms, alcohol, drugs or sharp objects that could be used in a suicide attempt • Call the U.S. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) • Take the person to an emergency room or seek help from a medical or mental health professional *Warning signs provided by ReportingOnSuicide. org
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Jullian Amber Lawson April 30, 2000 – August 28, 2014
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Written by Tina Thompson Occhipinti, Jullian’s mother.
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Honoring a precious, loving and bright life cut short by the lies told by depression and anxiety – no parent should ever have to swap the management of their teen's busy high school schedule and the excitement of their college preparation for the devastating heartbreak of death – especially death by suicide, and the lifelong grief that follows. The day Jullian was born, I realized the depth of light and love that God had in store for the world. Jullian's smile and loving, unfiltered personality would fill a room of friends and strangers alike, and as it's been noted many times over, her hugs – they were the stuff of legends! 48
Jullian's Garden It's morning in the garden, my life stands still; the dew glistens on the petals, the sun moves across the leaves, the colors awaken and eventually the shadows grow long. And I find myself standing in the evening, still mourning in the garden. Fall colors come, then they're gone, Christmas lights twinkle from afar; dormant lay the bulbs and seeds until the spring warmth tickles the soil. And here I am alone, still mourning in the garden. The sun will rise and set, over and over 49
again; the moon smiles through his phases, casting shadows of life – emerging, then fading; the rains pour down, quenching the roots and the flowers reach toward the power of the sun. And I gasp for breath, still mourning in the garden. Around the sun, the earth has traveled; blooms of blue, white, yellow, pink and red gladly show their faces; I'm graced with friendly visits from butterflies, birds, 50
bees and beetles. And here I stand still, hand in hand with her beautiful spirit, every morning in the garden. Š August 2015 Tina Thompson Occhipinti
Rest In Peace my precious daughter. Every day I will remember you, I will love you and I will miss you! – Mom 51
William Austin McCloud January 30, 1998 – April 29, 2017
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Written by Lauren Holverson, Austin’s sister.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day that I found out I had lost my younger brother Austin. If I’m being honest, I didn’t believe my brother Colton when he called to inform me that my brother was a victim of suicide. I was in the car with my husband, and I just kept repeating out loud that my brother was gone. I quickly realized after the initial shock, that I would have to be the one to call my father. I would have to be the one to tell my father that his son had died by suicide. My father remarried when I was young, and he had two sons during that marriage. The first was William Austin McCloud. He was actually due on my birthday, but he came earlier. I learned to appreciate that later in life, because two of my brothers share a birthday. Austin and Colton’s moth53
er took them away from us when they were toddlers. They were later adopted, and we weren’t invited back into their lives until I was almost done with college. I suspect that Austin felt lied to about his identity and life. We really never reconnected before his death. The last conversation we had was via Facebook about the meaning of his name. The Austin I knew was a grumpy toddler with a big head. I remember sitting by the railroad tracks and enjoying ice cream together. I also remember him laughing. He laughed with his whole body. I’ve heard from others that he was funny, he liked to get into some trouble, and he was very smart. Austin’s mother once told me that he and I were 54
very similar. It’s hard to tell your father by phone that your brother is gone. I’m not sure I’ll ever forget it, no matter how hard I try. Later that evening, I found out that he was actually in the hospital although there was no brain activity. My siblings and I decided we needed to get to Virginia, where he was. Nobody should have to see their 19-year-old brother on life support. It’s one of the most heart wrenching experiences. Those couple of days we spent at the hospital were challenging. Austin was an organ donor, and he saved six lives. I find comfort in the fact that a part of him lives on. There are so many things I wish I could have shared with Austin. Simply, I wish I could have known him. I thought I’d take a moment to write a letter to my brother. Dear Austin, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I 55
didn’t know you were hurting. I wish I could have shared my experience with you and helped you rise above the darkness. The truth is that I had been there too. I feel like I could have helped you like so many helped me. I’m sorry that I didn’t try harder to reach you, but I thought it would only make things worse. I wish I could have told you the truth. I wish I could have told you not to worry over things and to enjoy the college experience. I wish I could have told you that I met your girlfriend, and I really liked her. Most of all, I wish I could have told you that I love you. I know in my heart you have found the peace you were looking for. I want to thank you for reminding me to do what it is that makes me happy. As an adult, you get so caught up in expectations and responsibilities 56
that you forget that our true purpose is only to love. Thank you for being my brother, and I look forward to meeting you again one day. Love Always, Lauren I hope our story can help someone else or shed light on the tragedy of losing someone you love to suicide. I’d like to conclude with a quote: “Please, don’t worry so much ... Because in the end none of us have very long on this earth. Life is fleeting. And if you’re ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky ... and when a shooting star streaks through the blackness ... make a wish and think of me. Make your life spectacular.” – Robin Williams 57
Michael Lubie Perdue August 17, 1954 – July 20, 2003
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Your Legacy is Far Greater Than Suicide
Written by Ivey Perdue Rollins, Michael’s daughter.
Just recently, another person that I know took his own life. I’ve seen it so much since my daddy died, since my daddy made the decision to leave this earth. Suicide. Everywhere. I don’t ever remember hearing of it before he died in 2003. Was I immune to really knowing about it because I had never been through it? I don’t write this for pity or even my own healing. I’ve written letters to my dad over the years, at the advice of a therapist. It was helpful, but I always destroy them after. Today, I’m writing this to help someone. Someone thinking of suicide, someone depressed, someone feeling the overwhelming pain of losing someone they love to suicide. I pray that it helps someone. I want the person that’s lost someone to know that they will never be the same, but they are not alone, and believe it or not, you learn to cope very well. You will heal. I want the person who is contemplating suicide to realize the grief that this action will cause for those that love you so very much. It’s tremendous. Your legacy is far greater than suicide, and you will see that even after losing my dad so tragically, he taught me so many things that I am forever grateful for. I will not allow suicide to be his legacy. 59
Daddy’s girl. That’s what I was. He was my hero. He worked hard and provided so well for us, but this is not why he was my hero. He was my hero because he taught me so much about life. He taught me to be brave. At the young age of 7, he bought me my first three-wheeler. A Honda 70. It was beautiful, and pretty well used already, but it was perfect to me. I would follow him on his four-wheeler, making trails through the woods. He taught me to lean as far forward as I could while climbing a steep hill. This would keep me from flipping backward. If I did flip, I’d jump. “You don’t want to get pinned under that thing,” he’d tell me. He taught me to never give up, have no fear. I once flipped that three-wheeler down a long hill, rolling side over side numerous times. When both myself and the three-wheeler made it to the bottom, I was terrified, crying loudly and shaking. But I had done as he said and jumped when it started to roll. The threewheeler never touched me and I was just fine, except for my ego. All I remember is him telling me to get back on, go back up, and come down that hill again. “Try it again,” he said. There was no way I was doing that again! Oh, but I did and I made it all the way to the bottom, safe and sound. This simple lesson
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has stuck with me and has taught me to never give up. Don’t stop trying when you fail. Why he stopped trying, I will never understand. That is what makes suicide like no other death. We can understand sickness and accidents. As a survivor of someone’s suicide, we will never understand. Why do they give up? Almost 14 years later, I still can’t answer this. I still remember my dad’s good friend telling me just after the funeral, “Don’t try to figure out why. You never will.” This man had lost a brother to suicide already and knew that this was fact. He was right. You’ll never understand. But after many years of prayer, I am at peace with it. My daddy taught me about trees and leaves and bark. I could recall the type of tree in the woods we traveled so often just by looking at its bark or its leaves. We spent many Saturdays cutting down trees and splitting them for firewood. OK, maybe he spent many Saturdays doing that and I spent them playing near him as he worked. On one said Saturday, I had been helping my daddy build a barbed wire fence. He had built several hundred feet by this point, crossed a creek with the fence and was now running it along the far side of our property. As usual, I was right beside him. Also as usual, he summoned me for some sweet tea from a little cooler he kept in his truck. I darted across the creek, excited to finally be doing something to help my daddy. I got his sweet tea and hurried back toward him. As I crossed the creek, I heard a loud scrubbing noise and 61
something stopped me in my tracks. My left eyelid had struck the barbed wire that crossed that creek. I reached for my eye that was suddenly aching. It was gushing blood and I was screaming, terrified. All I remember after that was sitting next to my daddy in his truck, a towel over my face, and him on the phone with someone at Tanner ER. He was telling them that his daughter had just cut her face and he would be arriving with me in 10 minutes. He was so calm. He held my hand as they sewed up my eye and told me numerous times that I was so lucky to still have my eye. He made me strong. He made me calm. I had a gymnastics meet at UGA that day. My eye was black, swelled shut. My mom was out of town that day and I chose to stay home with my daddy. I told him I wasn’t going to that meet. “Oh yes you are!” he exclaimed. You see, he had made sure to call the ER ahead of time because he knew that meet meant a lot to me and he wanted to make sure I was sewed up in time to make it. I loaded that bus and headed off to UGA with the other gymnasts. He made me strong. Have I mentioned that? He would never have allowed me to sit home and dwell in my misery from the horror of that accident. On with life, that’s how it was. I often wonder if this is the same strength that got me through my darkest days after his death. Daddy later wrote that doctor a letter, thanking him for getting me in and out of there so quickly that day. I have no idea where this letter is
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now, but I will never forget his gesture of kindness. He could be so kind. He taught me so much. He taught me to drive a car with a manual transmission; to change my own oil and a tire. There was no way he was letting me leave the house on my 16th birthday without demonstrating these abilities. He taught me how to lace and unlace boots in a matter of a few seconds, weaving my hands across each other. I loved to unlace his work boots when he returned home, and I thought those crazy half eyelet thingies that caught the laces were so amazing. He taught me to take care of my things and always wear a helmet on ATVs. I never rode without a helmet, and I always had to clean my three-wheeler after a ride. He taught me to drive a motorcycle. I once ended up against a ditch at about 13 years old. He was behind me on the motorcycle, but he’d let me steer as he changed gears and braked. I overcompensated a curve and off we went. Once again, I was terrified. We stopped just up the road, and I told him I WAS NOT driving anymore. You know how that turned out. With a helmet full of tears, I drove that mile back home. He taught me to be courageous. Never give up. Never stop trying. I will never give up and I pray that you never will either. My daddy could walk on water. OK, he couldn’t. But, I sure thought he 63
could when I was younger. He was the strongest man I knew, both mentally and physically. I watched him get third-degree burns on both of his forearms as he tried to extinguish a grease fire in our kitchen. He ran down the long hall in our house, me right behind him. He was screaming so loudly. He ended up in the garage at the end of that long hall. I still remember his shirt and watchband dripping from his arms. He was hurt, badly. My mom rushed him off to the ER and I stayed home with my sisters. I cried and cried and cried until I finally just fell asleep. I remember him rubbing Silvadene cream on the burns and wrenching with pain. I hurt for him. He was right back to work, long before he should have been. But the evenings where he fell asleep in his recliner from loads of pain medicine are also never forgotten. You see, my daddy was an addict. 99 percent of the time, he was sober. But a local doctor would prescribe him pain meds for a back injury when he was younger. He’d get these meds every few months and take them all within a few days. He was a walking zombie, foaming at the
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mouth and red-faced. I blocked those times from my memory for many years because he was my daddy and my hero. Heroes don’t act that way. But he did. I choose to remember the good times. I choose not to think of his addiction very often, but it was there, lurking in the darkness of his depression. I was too young to understand this then and never asked any questions. I would beg to go with my daddy everywhere he went. He taught me to drive a D8 bulldozer, one of the biggest bulldozers ever made. And when you’re a child, this thing is something else! I was on top of the world and in my daddy’s lap. What else could a little girl want? He was so smart. But in my mind, that didn’t matter. What mattered is that he could drive a D8. He was a grading estimator, and I heard him say many times that it was like brain surgery with the ground. “You either have it or you don’t,” he would say, in reference to grading successfully. He didn’t go to college. He had no degree to help him become a grading estimator. He simply worked his tail off for many years, driving bulldozers. This is what got him that position. He worked. Hard. He could do anything he put his mind to, except fight depression and addiction. You see, depression and addiction are what pushed my daddy to suicide. He fought addiction to narcotics his entire life. When I was just 16 years old, he decided to try masking his pain with alcohol. Within four years, he was dead. He had taken his own life. He couldn’t endure the pain anymore. My 65
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daddy never went to a doctor for help. He never tried depression medication. He was too stubborn, too strong. You know what really takes strength? Asking for help. Getting help is hard when you’re fighting depression. For a strong man, it’s near impossible sometimes. But I tell you this because, ultimately, it cost my daddy his life. Don’t be so strong-willed that you won’t get help. Don’t try to “white knuckle” your depression and addiction. The last four years of my daddy’s life were miserable for everyone. He was a totally different person. He was unpredictable. This is what addiction and depression does to a person. But I choose to remember the first 16 years I spent with my daddy. Suicide will not be his legacy. I choose to remember all the good times we had and all the things he taught me. I also write this to help those that have lost a loved one to suicide. It is the absolute hardest trial I’ve ever experienced. I cursed God. I blamed Him. I was so mad. At everyone. I didn’t understand why my daddy didn’t get help. I tried to think of every way I should have helped him. I told myself that if I had been there that night, I could have talked him out of it. But when someone doesn’t want help, you can’t force it. This is heartbreaking for people that love those that are suffering. After he was gone, I had many dark days. I was lost. How could my own daddy leave me? How could anyone ever love me? How could I ever trust a man to stay with me when my own daddy had left me? I struggled for many years. I made many bad
decisions. And then I found God. I started praying to Him to take this pain away. "Help me understand," I would tell Him. "Help me get past this." I was still so mad at God because He had allowed this to happen. And then I began to listen to Him. He did not allow this to happen. He had been there with me the entire time, but I could not see His love. God wants us to depend on Him. My daddy had left me, but I have a Father who will never leave me. He never has and he never will. God is what has pushed me through this life. I have healed. I have peace. I have a beautiful family and a wonderful life. God gave me this. I thought my life was over when my daddy died. I didn’t think I could ever get past it. I was in a daze. But 14 years later, I can help people because of this experience. I am so thankful to be able to tell my daddy’s story. I pray that this helps someone contemplating suicide, or someone that’s lost someone to suicide. Help is everywhere. Ask for it. It’s OK to be weak. We are human. It’s OK to suffer. We are human. But it’s not OK to suffer alone. There are too many resources out there to not get help. And God loves us too much to deny Him in our time of need. May God bless each and every one of you reading this! WGW 67
Help A Child With Youth Mental Health First Aid C
hildren can experience many of the same behavioral health problems as adults – depression, anxiety, substance use and more – and, like adults, it can be hard for them to know what to do when these problems set in. Willowbrooke at Tanner, the behavioral health service of Tanner Health System, offers a free training program to help individuals who work with children respond when a child or adolescent is experiencing a behavioral health challenge or crisis. Youth Mental Health First Aid training was designed by Mental Health First Aid USA, which worked with experts at the National Technical Assistance Center for Children’s Mental Health at the Georgetown University Center for Child and Human Development to develop the youth program. Mental Health First Aid USA is coordinated by the National Council for Behavioral Health, the Maryland Department of Health and Mental Hygiene and the Missouri Department of Mental Health. The training is available through
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By Debra Price, LPC, CPCS a special grant that Willowbrooke at Tanner received to provide free training to individuals throughout the community to help them respond when a child or adolescent is experiencing a behavioral health challenge or crisis. The training course takes about a day – eight hours – and empowers you to recognize signs of behavioral health problems in children and adolescents ages 12 to 18. Participants who complete the training receive a certification and reference materials from the course to keep. The goal of the training is not so you can diagnose and treat behavioral health problems, but to help you recognize them and be proactive in helping children and adolescents access the care they need. We offer the training to anyone who works with youth – including those involved in education, child care, youth athletics, churches, community programs, law enforcement and more – in Bartow, Carroll, Coweta and Paulding counties. The training can be provided
Ashley seems to have it all. She’s pretty. She’s popular. But she seems so sad.
When behavioral, emotional or substance abuse problems threaten to tear you or your family apart…
Let Willowbrooke at Tanner help you or someone you know get back to life.
Willowbrooke at Tanner offers free, confidential mental health screenings and services for adults, adolescents
and children with behavioral, emotional and substance abuse problems. With locations in Carrollton, Villa Rica, Bremen, Newnan and Cartersville, along with a full continuum of care that includes inpatient, partial hospitalization and less-intensive care, the help you need is just a phone call away.
Call Willowbrooke at Tanner’s 24-hour help line at 770.812.9551 to arrange for a free, confidential mental health screening.
To learn more, visit www.tanner.org/GetHelp. Carrollton Villa Rica Bremen Newnan Cartersville
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on-site. The instructor is accredited by Willowbrooke at Tanner to lead the training. We simply ask that the minimum group size be 10 participants. To learn more about hosting a Youth Mental Health First Aid training session, call 470.261.4555 or send an email to kroberts@tanner.org. More information on the course is available online at www.WillowbrookeAtTanner.org. To sign up for an upcoming Youth Mental Health First Aid training session, visit Tanner Health System's online calendar of classes and events at www.tanner.org/calendar. WGW
Debra Price, LPC, CPCS with Willowbrooke at Tanner is located in Carrollton. For more information, visit www.Willowbrooke AtTanner.org or call 770.812.3530.
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Bullying Hurts More Than The Victim • •
• •
•
•
Bullying has serious and lasting negative effects on the mental health and overall well-being of youth. Bullying contributes to depression, anxiety, sexual and interpersonal violence, substance abuse, poor school performance and attendance and poor social functioning in youth who bully others, youth who are bullied and youth who are both bullied and bully others. Youth who report frequently bullying others and those who report being bullied frequently are at increased risk for suicide-related behaviors. Youth who report both bullying others and being bullied (bully-victims) have the highest risk for suicide-related behavior of any groups that report involvement in bullying. Youth who observe and don’t participate in bullying behavior feel helpless and have significantly more feelings of not being supported by or connected with responsible adults (parents and school teachers/ administration).
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Please Don't Use The Phrase "Committed Suicide"
PHOTO BY KEITH MAY
Until the early 1960s, suicide was considered a criminal act in this country. The laws have changed, fortunately, but our language about suicide has not. Most people still refer to someone dying by suicide as "committing suicide," which implies the person is guilty of some type of criminal act. The word "commit" can mean many things, but the term is typically used in a negative manner, and is often associated with some type of wrongdoing. Suicide is a public health issue. Ninety percent of people who die by suicide are suffering from some type of mental illness, according to the National Alliance on Mental Illness. People who die by suicide are not criminals. Many are struggling with severe emotional distress at the time of their deaths, and they feel there is no other solution to help them escape the pain they are enduring at that moment. Next time, when you talk about suicide, please use the phrase "died by suicide," and don't be afraid to talk with survivors about their loved ones who have tragically died in this manner. By changing your language about suicide, you have the power to minimize the intense shame and stigma that is associated with suicide that many survivors are left with after their loved one's death. By showing compassion, kindness and changing your words, you can truly make a difference in the lives of those left behind. WGW
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Sometimes Depression is Not Always 74
D A S By Cheryl Francis, L.P.C.
S
ometimes depression is hurting while you are smiling – or feeling brutal pain and angst while the world looks on – but you choose to laugh to make it seem as if everything is fine. Understanding depressed mood empowers all of us to offer help in meaningful ways. We begin to help by first realizing that there are various types of depressed mood. There is Major Depressive Disorder, which Dr. Miller covered on page 21, Dysthymia, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and forms of Bipolar Disorders.
Dysthymia The symptoms of Dysthymia are not as extreme, yet they are similar and consistent with that of Major Depression. An individual may function well on a day-to-day basis – regularly engaging in daily life – but a persistent case of flatness, sadness or irritability is present. The individual affected and others close to her will notice the pattern of sadness, low mood or irritability and may even refer to her mood as “normal.” A comment such as, “She is always like that,” is a common descriptor of the person experiencing symptoms of Dysthymia. In the meantime relationships, school functioning and other areas of life suffer because of these symptoms.
Seasonal Affective Disorder Seasonal Affective Disorder is a depressed state that shows itself mainly with a change in seasons. The individual will notice that when there is less sunlight during the fall and winter months, there is a pattern of feeling low, out-of-sorts or not being her usual self. These can be symptoms of depression. Once the season changes to spring and summer, the person's mood usually improves.
Bipolar Disorder The thing that sets Bipolar Disorder apart from Major Depression is mania. Bipolar Disorder has all the symptoms of Major Depression; however, for at least a week, there is a gradual or sudden mood change. An individual may realize that she is feeling a consistent pattern of happiness, which may come with decreased sleep, excessive talking and hyperactivity. She may demonstrate increased confidence, feeling as if she is bolder than ever before. Sometimes the individual may stay up all night to complete a lengthy project – and still doesn't feel tired. There is a sense of increased energy with Bipolar
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Disorder. Sometimes – and this is especially the case with adults – they may go on a shopping spree or become hyper-sexual and promiscuous, participating in risky behaviors they usually regret later. An individual will have severe mood swings where she will experience an intense high and feel she can conquer or complete any task. After this high, she will fall into a slump, feeling very tired, and sometimes becoming immobile; refusing to get out of bed.
Knowing When To Get Help If an individual is given a diagnosis of any of the above mood disorders, it is very important that timely and appropriate help is provided. Depression not only creates a sense of sadness and irritability, but it also affects one’s academic and social life, and overall functioning and wellbeing. It contributes to fatigue, loss of energy, change in sleep and eating habits, as well as poor concentration and impaired memory. Confidence and self-image will also begin to wane. The individual may try to show the opposite of what she is experiencing – especially when around others. Withdrawal and other unhealthy behaviors can be easily justified with reasonable excuses. The individual may be experiencing feelings of
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623 DIXIE STREET – CARROLLTON, GA hopelessness and a lack of purpose, while going through the motions of everyday life. It takes a lot of courage to say, “I am not feeling my normal self," or "I am not myself lately." Understanding that depression is not only sadness is a crucial element in offering support and getting help. It is worth mentioning that someone who is depressed may also begin to exhibit signs of anxiety. Although they are two separate disorders, one may lead to the other. To begin feeling better, people most often turn to psychotherapy or medication management. It is important that the provider address medical health first when addressing depressive symptoms. A medical evaluation is important to rule out things like Hypothyroidism or a lack of Vitamin D, as these issues frequently mimic symptoms of depression. Once the medical issues are ruled out and resolved as necessary, then the process of Psychotherapy can begin. Psychotherapy – or talk therapy – as most people refer to it, has been found to be beneficial in managing depression. It helps the individual understand behaviors and emotions, and provides helpful coping skills. Psychotherapy is very helpful in restructuring ways of thinking and faulty perceptions,
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and can be provided in a variety of formats: Individual therapy, group therapy and family therapy. Family therapy is an important component as it provides tools to the depressed person's family so they can effectively provide the support needed for their loved one. Many times, when intervention is not in place, it is because families do not understand what the individual is experiencing, or how to respond to the individual. Without intervention, symptoms may worsen, and suicidal thoughts and behaviors may surface. Offering and obtaining help for depression early on may help with reducing the likelihood of suicidal behaviors or attempts. WGW Cheryl A. Francis, Licensed Professional Counselor, is the owner of The Heart Matters Wellness Services LLC, a fullservice counseling agency. She is certified as a Mental Health First Aid Adult trainer and regularly provides seminars and trainings to the community on various mental health issues. She has partnered with the Georgia Center for Child Advocacy to train individuals in the prevention of childhood sexual abuse. Visit heartmatterswellness. com for more information about Cheryl and her work.
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Kidz Korner Books About Suicide for Children
We recommend a parent or guardian read these books before giving them to your children to read, and we encourage you to seek the advice of a licensed professional if you're unsure if these books are appropriate for your children.
Why Would Someone Want to Die?
By Rebecca C. Schmidt M.E.d.
This book is told from a child's point of view about the death of his father. Includes activities, resources, a parent section and discussion pages. Also includes explanations on what happens during visitation at the funeral home, the funeral ceremony and at the cemetery.
But I Didn't Say Goodbye
Helping children and families after a suicide By Barbara Rubel, M.A.
In the beginning of the story this book is told from an 11-year-old child's point of view beginning immediately after the death of his father and continues through the next five years of his life. Includes resources on support groups, books for children, teens, parents and professionals.
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By Charlene Brooks
Someone I Love Died by Suicide:
A Story for Child Survivors and Those Who Care for Them By Doreen T. Cammarata
This book is designed for adults to read to child survivors after the death of a loved one by suicide. The story helps children recognize the signs and symptoms of the normal grieving process and helps them learn to cope in healthy ways after the death of a loved one. This book is recommended to be used along with therapy.
Luna's Red Hat:
An Illustrated Storybook to Help Children Cope with Loss and Suicide By Emmi Smid This book is told from a third person point of view about the death of a little girl's mother by suicide. The story begins with Luna, who is wearing her mom's red hat while having a picnic in the park with her family on the one year anniversary of her mother's death. It's a beautiful spring day, but Luna feels anything but happy because she is still confused and angry with her mom for leaving her behind. Includes a guide on explaining death to children from infant to 12 years old for professionals and parents written by grief expert Dr. Riet Fiddelaers-Jaspers.
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