Some Days Life Really Stinks

Michelle in 1982

February 25, 2005, was one of those days for me. My sister Michelle died that day—by choice.

In the weeks and months that followed, I felt my heart would break from sadness. Sometimes I was angry she felt so overwhelmed by her circumstances that suicide seemed her only option.  Mostly my anger was directed at those circumstances.

Michelle and me 1967

For days, I lived in a fog, which was really a heightened awareness of my surroundings—tastes, sights, and sounds which pulled me into a place my mind had never been before—a place of disorientation. Though I’d lost many loved ones and friends, I’d never lost someone who’d been such an integral part of my life from the time I’d been born. As long as I had existed—Michelle had existed.

Even today, my emotions can be as fresh and raw as eight years ago when I return to that time and place in my mind. Part of the hurt comes from knowing I couldn’t fix what was wrong.

I hadn’t planned to mark this day by writing about Michelle. I’ve done so in the past, and you can read a newspaper article I wrote about her by clicking here. Or the blog post I wrote on her birthday in 2011. Both of these articles share my more intimate memories of my sister.

In the wake of country singer Mindy McCready’s suicide last week, and the nasty comments so flippantly shared on social media, I nudged myself into sharing my thoughts on suicide today.

Perhaps having a ringside seat to four generations of mental illness qualifies me to have a point of view on the subject. And for that reason, I’m not only compelled to write but obligated to do so when ignorance rears its ugly head.

Michelle in 1997
During better times

My sister did not lie around waiting to die. She fought to make life work—somehow, on some level. When she was mentally able, she held down a job, paid rent, and cared for her children. As a Christian, she talked freely of Jesus and what he’d done for her. Michelle expressed her love for Christ more than some Christians I’ve encountered. However, this doesn’t preclude what rages in the severely mentally ill’s mind. 

We had many conversations about mental health care, psychotropic meds, and inpatient care, none of which are ideal. Though she cycled in and out of the hospital for twenty years, after a one stay in a state hospital a few years before her death, she vowed never to return. Michelle was passionate about others battling mental illness. Her heart broke for those in situations similar to hers. In one of our last conversations, she said, “I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

Suicide is an emotional blight civilization has wrestled with almost since the beginning of time. The Bible and other historical documents record many suicides through the centuries. But no matter how much time has passed, suicide remains one of the most misunderstood acts humans try to wrap their brains around.

Why?

Because for everyone, except the person who takes their life, the logic behind suicide is difficult to grasp. Our understanding is often superficial and fleeting at best.

There’s nothing wrong with asking the “Why?” question. Human nature dictates we do.

The simple answer is the suicidal person often believes everyone will be better off when they’re gone—including their children. Based on the content of my sister’s suicide note, she believed nothing would change. She’d battled severe mental illness for twenty years, and as a perfect storm ensued in the weeks before her death, she reached the point of not being able to cope with life any more. You know the cliché: The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Looking back at her past and then forward to her future, she believed nothing would really change about her situation. She simply wanted the pain to stop.

After Mindy McCready’s death last week, many folks seemed to have an opinion about her decision. The word selfish popped up more times than I could count, especially on social media and on friends’ Facebook walls.

Suicide is selfish. It innately has to be or it wouldn’t exist. However, it’s not selfish in the context people so freely assign. Suicide reflects a life so marginalized within itself that any consequences become inconsequential. As I said above, some of the mentality is “everyone will be better off without me.”

Accompanying the “selfish” label are condemnation and lack of empathy.

People who make statements like, “Her kids are probably better off without her,” or “I have no sympathy for someone so selfish,” well, hold onto your hats because you probably aren’t going to like what I’m about to say!

To me, those statements are the ultimate in selfishness. Given the statistics that 1 in 4 people in this country battle mental illness, would you like to wager a guess how many folks this actually effects? You don’t throw a pebble into a pond without there being a ripple. A person doesn’t kill themselves without a whole lot of other folks affected. 

When you’re quick to judge the life and death of a mentally ill person from afar, you have no clue as to the effects of your statements. If you’ve never looked at your loved one lying in a coffin or held their autopsy report in your hands, your perspective is different from those who have. You’ll never read a colder document than an autopsy report, I assure you.

Perhaps instead of parsing the why’s of suicide or passing judgment on the victims, getting involved in mental health awareness would be more productive. Here’s a few facts from afsp.org:

• Every 13.7 minutes someone in the United States dies by suicide.
• Nearly 1,000,000 people make a suicide attempt every year.
• 90% of people who die by suicide have a diagnosable and treatable psychiatric disorder at the time of their death.
• Men are nearly 4 times more likely to die by suicide than women. Women attempt suicide 3 times as often as men.

The problem of suicide seems insurmountable, and total eradication is. If a person is determined to die—they will.

So what can you and I do? We can practice compassion—for those cycling in and out of the mental health system and their families—by our thoughts, speech, and prayer. We can get involved—with local mental health programs or within our church auspices to promote mental health awareness and support.

Although we might be able to satisfy some of the superficial “why” questions of suicide, the universal question of why is linked to our fallen world, just like all other trials we walk through. Our hope lies in eternity.

If you’re currently walking through a trial like this with a loved one or yourself, please know I’m walking beside you in spirit, lifting you up in prayer, and will always be here to offer a word of encouragement. I’d love to hear from you, if you’d like to send me an e-mail or leave a comment.

My two cents, for what it’s worth.

God bless,

Laura J

Parents' anniversary party six
months before Michelle's death

All my siblings together
(a rare occasion) 1998

© Laura Hodges Poole