Depression and Suicide: Reflecting Over My Sister’s Death

Michelle - 1980s

That warm, sunny day in February 2005, when I learned my older sister Michelle had ended her life, was agonizingly contradictory. Her death placed a punctuation mark at the end of a long battle with major depression. Yet, as I took a walk outdoors to clear my head and try to make sense of the news, birds tweeted and daffodils were already in full bloom, raising their little yellow heads to the sun as if to say, “Oh, what a beautiful day.”

And that’s the quandary in which many people suffering from mental illness find themselves. They’re often surrounded by happy people saying, “Cheer up, snap out of it. Find something useful to do, and you’ll feel better.”

Don’t get me wrong. Good physical and spiritual habits, as well as having purpose in one’s life, are all part of mental wellness. But severe depression can be debilitating and challenging to treat, despite the best efforts of those suffering or their loved ones.

Michelle and Me
1979

When I was sixteen and Michelle was eighteen, sometimes we’d go to the University of Florida track and run. Michelle loved to run. Me, not so much. I had a tentative grasp on Michelle’s changing moods that were progressively growing darker. She tried. Oh, she tried. After all, we were out running, something she enjoyed.

One afternoon when we finished, we went into the restrooms. I heard her lean against the wall in the adjoining stall and begin to cry. I asked what was wrong. Most of what she said I already knew. In my naivete and helplessness, I said, “We’ll figure it out. I’ll help you.” Of course, what was I going to do? I was a kid myself.  I had no way of knowing this was only the beginning of a long journey—one I’d learn more about than I ever cared to know.

I’ve written many times about mental illness. My family experiences have mirrored others I’ve met at local and state National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) functions. I get emails from people walking this difficult path. I’ve read numerous scientific studies and first-person accounts. Yet, I don’t have the answers to explain the mystery of major depression—why some people overcome while others succumb.

Of a side note, one thing that alarms me after a suicide are folks who speak with great authority on the subject, yet their opinions often prove they have little actual experience with or knowledge of mental illness…which is why I continue to write.

For twenty years, Michelle suffered with major depressive disorder and schizophrenia, the former being the most intractable to treatment. Her heart broke for others battling major depression.  She once said, “I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

We had many conversations about the state of mental health care. At times, she shared my excitement for the latest news and scientific studies in medical journals. She’d say, “Laura, don’t ever quit looking for an answer.”

Michelle - 1997

But then, once, in a dark moment, she wrote: "There are so many people who love me and they just do not know what to do. Nothing is the answer. I have to do this on my own."

Years later, in her final note, she said, “I just can’t cope anymore. Forgive me, please.”

It’s in those dark, impenetrable moments that one takes their life. For those of us on the outside or left behind, we cope in differing ways. Some grasp for immediate or obvious answers: the person was selfish, only thinking of themselves; if only they’d gotten right with God, He would’ve fixed it.

(I wrote about the selfish angle on my blog a few years ago after country singer Mindy McCready’s suicide. Click here to read.)

I certainly know the validity of spiritual wholeness with God in order to maintain one’s sanity because I’ve experienced that myself, many times, especially since the death of my daughter six months ago.

But suicide goes much deeper than either of these quick explanations. It’s a riddle those of us left in the aftermath struggle to unlock. The conclusion I’ve reached in the twelve years since Michelle’s death is there are no easy answers. Ultimately, suicide reflects deep hopelessness in a person at the moment they make that decision. The only thing we can do is keep advocating for better mental health services and reach out to those suffering with a willingness to listen, encourage, and point people toward effective resources.

Behind every suicide is a real person with a real family who never gets over it. The fact there's still a stigma associated with treating depression medically or with counseling is a form of insanity itself. I can’t believe in the 21^st century we’re still having this discussion, but we are.

Today, I also choose to think of the good memories because Michelle’s life wasn’t all dark. She had a happy, mischievous side. She loved to play practical jokes, like the time she put red pepper on my pizza when I had my back turned. Her risk-taking behavior often pushed me out of my comfort zone as a teen. As adults, I’d occasionally be surprised with a letter from her. The stationery was usually dotted with her familiar “smile” notations accompanied with a smiley face. Though she often didn’t feel like smiling, she wanted others to smile.

I treasure the quiet conversations we shared. These became rarer as physical distance of living almost 500 miles apart separated us later in life, and her schizophrenia interfered with her rational thoughts. But in those quiet moments, Michelle spoke from her heart. During her stretches of wellness, she modeled what I feel Christian behavior should be in its truest form—caring for others more than herself and uplifting others to make them feel better about their life situations.

If Michelle was ever angry toward God for how her life played out, she didn’t voice it in our conversations. Instead, she embraced the promise of a better life one day in eternity. She understood what so few grasp—life on earth is temporary. Her temporary life was a minefield. I pray she found the peace in eternity that seemed to elude her here on earth.

Michelle - 2004

Are you struggling with depression, the suicide of a loved one, or maybe just a situation that's overwhelming you? I’d love to hear your story and pray for you. Please leave a comment or email me confidential comments or prayer requests. Also, check out the mental illness tab at the top for a list of resources that might help you or your loved one.

©Laura Hodges Poole

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