Caution - Volunteering for the PTA May Cause Suicide!

This past Thursday started out just like any other day, but by noon things were steadily going down hill. I drove to Stamford for a lunchtime meeting and found a parking spot on the street, behind another car. When I got out of the car I noticed a sign on the street that made me question whether I was parked legally. There was a parking lot right in front of the building where I was headed, so I hopped backed in my car to move it, just to be on the safe side. I turned the key in the ignition, and...nothing. I tried again - nothing. My meeting was starting, so I left the car and headed into the building. I'd deal with the car after the meeting.

The meeting was scheduled to run two hours, but I left after an hour and a half so that I could deal with my car. On my way out of the building, I phoned Triple A.  We agreed it was likely a dead battery. They would get to me within 45 minutes and give me a jump start. If I was lucky, I'd still make it back to work in time for my 3 pm meeting.

I got into my car while I waited for Triple A and decided to give the engine one more try. I turned the key in the ignition and, reluctantly, the car started. Yahoo! I called back Triple A and canceled the service call, phoned my office to cancel my 3 pm meeting, and then drove directly to a garage around the corner from my house.

The garage didn't have the size battery I needed in stock, but they called to have one delivered and assured me that delivery time was usually under 15 minutes. An hour and half later the battery finally arrived and a few minutes after that I was on my way. By now, it was nearly time to pick Sarah up at school after field hockey practice, so I dashed home, let the dogs out quickly, checked my email, put the dogs back in their crates and then headed out again.

On my way to the car, I saw the mailman pulling away from our mailbox, so I quickly collected our mail, and then hopped into the car. There were only two pieces of what I call "real mail" - mail that is not a bill or a catalog.  I could tell from the return address that one was from friends of ours and was probably a birth announcement. The other piece was more mysterious. It was addressed solely to me in what I would describe as youthful handwriting and there was no return address. I wondered if it could be from a friend of Emma's. I have really enjoyed seeing and hearing from her friends over these past three years, so with some happy anticipation, I tore open the envelope before starting the car.

When I looked inside the envelope, I saw a newspaper clipping which I immediately recognized as the CT Post article that I had been interviewed for three months ago. Tucked inside that clipping was a note that said, "Maybe if you spent more time with your kids instead of running PTAs your family would not have suffered this unspeakable tragedy. Family first!" The exclamation point had a little heart where the period should be.

I shoved the note back into the envelope and threw the envelope onto the floor of the car. I'm not sure I was breathing. I was completely in shock. I had to get Sarah, so I turned on the car and headed for Milford, but before I had gotten very far I burst into tears. I knew I shouldn't make the drive in that condition, so I frantically began calling Peter. I reached him within a few minutes and he packed up quickly and headed for Milford, urging me to call a friend when I got back home. He was angry and worried and clearly felt helpless.

Consciously and subconsciously I have dreaded a moment like that for most of the last three years. I know that families are often blamed for suicide deaths and there was no reason to believe we would be immune to that. When the CT Post reporter left a message for me saying that she wanted to interview me for an article about teen suicide, I hesitated before calling her back. Maybe I didn't need to open myself up to criticism and backlash. There's a saying, though: 'Be the change you want to see." If I wanted to see a world in which the myths that surround suicide are shattered, and where those who suffer  and survivors of suicide loss feel free to seek help and support without shame or stigma, I had to help build that world. Telling my story is the first step.
 
Over the last few days, as a result of receiving that hateful note,  I have struggled with two competing emotions: wanting to vociferously defend my track record as a parent, on the one hand; and wanting to curl up under a rock and hide, on the other.  The first is not an option. The author of that note didn't have the courage to sign his/her message. I don't have the option of facing my accuser. Curling up under a rock is not an option either. I have another child and that child needs her mother. A few days after Emma died, my very wise and very strong, Sarah,  looked me and Peter in the eyes and said, "We are not going to let this destroy us." For the last three years we have worked really hard to carry on, remember Emma, use our gifts, and stay strong - together; because that is what families do.

If you would like to help us prevent suicide, please join us for the Out of the Darkness Walk on Saturday, October 27th at Sherwood Island. You can join or contribute to Team Emma by clicking here.

National Suicide Prevention Week

 National Suicide Prevention Week begins on Sunday, September 9th, and I can't help but reflect on the journey I have been on since I lost my precious Emma to suicide a little more than three years ago. 

This past spring, inspired by a support group conversation the night before, I was reflecting on how my experience with suicide loss had changed over the last year. One notable change, I realized, was that people I knew had begun reaching out to me as a resource when suicide touched their own lives. As I was driving to work that spring morning, I tallied the number of times this past year that I had gotten a call or email from someone I knew who had just lost a friend or family member to suicide and was desperate to know where to go for information and support. The number was five. In my relatively small circle of friends and acquaintances,  five people had lost someone to suicide in less than a year. I found that stunning. What is even more stunning, is that by the time I was making the drive home from work at the end of that same day, the number had risen to seven.

So when I reflect on what I have learned on my journey in this past year, one of the most important lessons is this: suicide is not just a personal tragedy, it is a national tragedy. Each year more than 35,000 people in the U.S. die by suicide and CT's rate of death by suicide is at a 20 year high. In the wake of these tragic losses, hundreds of thousands of friends and family members are left to make sense of their loss and put their lives back together again. When you add up the price of all this devastation: years of productive life lost, wages lost, health and mental health care costs; you realize that the cost of suicide is enormous.

I have also learned this: as a nation, we will never inspire the national response necessary to address this national tragedy if we are depending on the survivors of suicide loss to wage that war.  As survivors, we have the will and resolve to bring change and find answers; to help others win a battle that, sadly, we have lost; but we are walking wounded. We can't do this alone. If we are going to wage war against suicide we need allies in our schools, in our healthcare institutions, in our workplaces, in our communities, in government, and amongst our legislators. My hope is that National Suicide Prevention Week will lead to greater awareness, new alliances, and the strengthening of our national resolve to give the issue of suicide the time, attention, and resources that are necessary to find answers and develop responses.

One of the ways I have become involved in the war against suicide is by participating in the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention - Southern CT Chapter's annual Out of the Darkness Walk. We were inspired to participate in our first walk by a friend of Emma's who found out about the walk and formed a team just weeks after Emma's death. We have been participating ever since and have been heartened to see the growth in community support and awareness that the walk has helped to create. It is truly bringing suicide out of the darkness.

This year's walk will be held on Saturday, October 27th, at Sherwood Island State Park in Westport, CT. Registration begins at noon and the walk will begin at 1 pm. I hope that you will consider becoming an ally in the war against suicide by joining or supporting Team Emma. The walk is as much about building awareness, as it is about fundraising; so your presence is truly valued as much as any monetary presents. Three years down this difficult road of suicide survival I believe more than ever that the first step to finding an answer is shining a light on the problem. I hope you'll join us at the walk and help us do just that.

 To join or contribute to Team Emma, click here. 

Special registration instructions for returning walkers:
AFSP has updated the walk website and there are a few frustrating glitches. The instructions below should get you registered quickly and easily:
1. Go to www.afsp.org and click on Out of the Darkness Community Walks in the upper right-hand corner of the home page
2. Log in to your existing account on the walk home page by entering your email and password. If you have forgotten your password there is an option to have the password sent to your email address
3. Search for the event - Southern CT Chapter, Sherwood Island State Park, Saturday, Oct. 27th
4. Search for the team - Team Emma
5. Click join this team
6. Answer brief questions.
7. You're done!