Suicide Awareness Saves Lives
/My daughter, Julie Ann Christiansen, died by suicide at the age of thirty-four on May 29, 2010.
Never, ever, before that day, did I believe that those words, the ones I just wrote would be my truth. Never, ever, before that day, did I believe that this shocking, irreversible event in my daughter’s life would be her final truth.
In truth, all I know about her final decision in life is that she ended her life.
I’ll never unequivocally know why. Even as I spent hours upon hours trying to understand the final act of her life, I could not fathom the darkness and the pain that she must have felt when she sought relief for her tortured mind by releasing it from this life by ending it through death.
Even as I spoke and wrote over and over again for hours on end these words, “I can’t believe she did it,” I could not, and still cannot, understand such darkness.
For that I am grateful.
I’ve never been tortured by such darkness and despair as she was.
She was.
Tortured.
She was.
Desperate.
She,
for reasons, I will never know,
did not reach out to those who could have,
would have,
and had before,
helped her in her final hours
when despair
robbed
her from
seeking hope,
seeking help.
Perhaps, her state of mind created a recklessness in her that was not a part of her personality in her more stable moments. Recklessness was what she showed when she was caught in the web of her mental illness; it was not what she portrayed when she was well.
And yet, there was a measured mindset that seemed to in place when she took the final steps of ending her life. The evidence she left behind indicated that, but evidence left behind did not prove she meant to end her life. Evidence only indicated she had the things available to bring an end of things. Did she want to quiet the demons inside? Did she want some quietness for her ‘unquiet mind?’ Did things get out of hand? Did she willingly give herself over to darkness?
These are the questions that overwhelmed me for years. These are the questions that remain to this day. These are the questions for which I will never have answers.
I only know that darkness overtook her and took her life; a life that was bright, so full of light, so shining, so beautiful.
Light was a gift she brought to life:
light that lit up every room she entered;
light full of brilliant thoughts and beautiful writing;
light that had all the fun dance moves;
light full of freedom of expression that made her dancing a delight to behold;
light full of such caring love;
light full of laughter and so much fun;
light full of kindness, compassion, empathy, and understanding;
light that inexplicably snuffed itself out under the cover of darkness during the last dark night of her soul.
A light like hers, extinguished by her own hand, never to give off life and light to others again,surely must only be vanquished by an enemy that those of us who only saw her light will never know, or understand. The unknown nature of such darkness makes our understanding of suicide all the more opaque for the those of us who have never been held hostage to its grip.
Because of her genetic makeup, my daughter suffered from a disease that first began to manifest itself in her late teen years. Depression, when it hit, began to rob her of her joy and became the demon that she would battle in many different ways for the rest of her life.
Julie, the reader, the seeker of answers and understanding, did wish to understand her illness. In her very young adulthood, she asked me to read Kay Redfield Jamison’s An Unquiet Mind because she said it helped her to understand her illness.
Not long before her death, she also recommended that I read Nothing Was The Same, Jamison’s book about her own experience with grief after the death of her husband.
In this book, Jamison said that during grief she experienced restlessness in everything she did. Jamison states that “in grief the restlessness was not the unbearable agitation of mania, but instead, an anxious fluttering that attached itself to my grief...I walked and walked in an attempt to alloy that disquiet.”
I often think that in those hard last months, or the last year of my daughter’s life, she did not find a way to “alloy that disquiet.” The disquiet in her mind was not shared with others. Did she push her deepening depression deep down inside as she portrayed a strong, resolute exterior. If there were crack in the exterior, she would call and cry, expressing frustration, sadness, confusion, loneliness, anger. I would try to help, but she never let me see what was really going on inside during those last months. Her cries for help seemed to be situational in nature. I did not sense that she was suicidal. I’d seen her in the grips of suicide ideation before. In her last months, I did not see this. Did she want to protect me from knowing what she was really going through?
I only know this: the ones full of light don’t make us aware of the darkness hovering in the shadows of their minds. They so often bear the burden of it alone, silently, and perhaps, not understanding the depth of it themselves.
These words from Jamison gave me such comfort and understanding after my daughter took her life:
“Grief conspires to ensure that it will in time wear itself out. Unlike depression, it acts to preserve the self. Depression is malignant, indiscriminately destructive.”
“Time alone during grief proved restorative. Time alone during depression is dangerous.”
“Depression, less comprehensible than grief, does not always elicit the same ritual kindness. Grief does not alienate the way depression does.”
I’ve known deep grief. Grief does “act to preserve the self.” I’ve come to believe it is that alienation aspect of depression that makes it indifferent or even hostile towards the preservation of life. I am not a mental health professional, but I have sought to understand the pain that must have become so powerful in my daughter’s life that her only thought was to find peace and safety in that which did not preserve her life but rather ended it.
She needed safety in that moment of crushing pain. She needed a life line. She needed a safe place with safe people who could help her through this time when darkness was overtaking her.
Suicide Awareness Saves Lives
Dear readers, there are places where help is available when a life is at risk
The most important place to find help is found by dialing: 988.
Those numbers, when called or texted, will connect you with safe people who can help you or your loved one find safety when the darkest hours threaten to overtake.
Memorize these numbers: 988.
Call them.
Please call them if you or a loved one is at risk.
Here are five action steps you can take if a loved one is at risk of suicide:
ASK - Are you thinking about suicide?
BE THERE - Connections save lives. Make sure you follow through in getting them help in ways they may not be able to do for themselves.
KEEP THEM SAFE - Establish immediate safety. Do they have a plan? Do they have access to items they could use to attempt suicide?
HELP THEM CONNECT - Again, connections save lives. 988 Lifeline is an invaluable tool for ongoing support. Also help them establish a safety plan or get help for them.
FOLLOW UP - Keep showing them you are there for support by texting, calling, visiting.
In loving memory of Julie Christiansen
This post to raise suicide awareness and prevention is dedicated to the memory of my daughter and all who lost their lives too soon. Call 988 for help and hope.
