Survivor of Suicide Loss A Title I Never Wanted

[Applause]

when i was 23 years old

i stood at our church pulpit and

delivered the eulogy

at the funeral of a man who was

dedicated husband

father farmer and friend

a man who was respected by his community

and beloved by his family

that man was my dad and my dad died by

suicide i remember the day of his

funeral vividly

it was the second day of january the

beginning of a new year

it was bitterly cold like the step

outside and your breath is taken away

type of cold

the type of cold that makes you not want

to be anywhere else but in your home

the type of cold that could leave your

hands and feet numb

and the cold perfectly described how i

was feeling at the time

my dad’s death took not only my breath

but a piece of my heart away

i really didn’t want to leave the house

that day and certainly not for his

funeral

and no matter what anyone said or did i

was numb

and i’m so thankful that i practiced his

eulogy over

and over again because my eyes were so

welled with tears

that i couldn’t even read the paper of

words in front of me

nothing could have prepared me to stand

up in front of my family

our neighbors and our friends and use my

words to beg them

not to let the way my dad died a result

of debilitating depression and anxiety

diminished the legacy of caring and

compassion

he left behind but that’s what the

stigma surrounding mental illnesses has

done

it’s made us uncomfortable it’s made

mental illnesses hard to talk about

it’s made us treat people differently

who we’ve known our entire lives

the stigma has forced us to feel shame

and guilt about an illness caused by

chemical imbalances in the brain

that are beyond our control my dad was a

farmer

he was a farmer for 53 years

he took over our family farm at the age

of 14 because his dad died in a farming

accident

my mom was a teacher and they were

married for 37 years

this past june would have marked their

40th wedding anniversary

the farm that my family lived on and the

house that my parents designed together

was in our family for over 100 years

my parents adopted my three siblings and

me and they truly dedicated their whole

lives to taking care of us

at a young age i fell in love with

basketball

my parents had previously been high

school theater directors so i didn’t

exactly

fit the script per se that they were

familiar with

my dad loved to read and he went and

bought books upon books on the game of

basketball

from the standpoint of a player coach

and ref

he was determined to be one of my fourth

grade basketball coaches

and that he was it’s safe to say that

regardless of the sport

or organization i was part of growing up

my parents supported me

regardless of if i got first place or

last

in high school my house was the place

that my teammates and i went to before

every home game

my mom would cook an amazing meal and my

dad would lead the prayer

my dad’s dedication towards learning the

game of basketball

was mirrored in his commitment to our

farm our church

our community and all of those who

encompassed it

he was a good man who had what most

seemingly desire

a loving spouse and kids a successful

career

and the respect of those around him

and that same man my dad suffered

from mental illnesses

and as a result my mom suffered my

sibling suffered

and i suffered because when someone you

love suffers

you suffer too

i remember the first time my family and

i heard the words depression and anxiety

i didn’t believe it it just didn’t make

sense

i naively thought the circumstances of

my dad’s life

didn’t align with the profile of a

depression or anxiety diagnosis

and it wasn’t until my dad’s first stay

in a behavioral health facility that i

truly realized how severely the

trajectory of our life would be altered

and it was right on the cusp of harvest

that he was admitted into the hospital

for the first time

our community slowly started to notice

his absence

and we knew we’d have to rely on them

for help if he wasn’t out of the

hospital in time

but it was hard how are we supposed to

explain this to everyone

else when we didn’t even understand it

ourselves

we were met with curiosity speculation

care and concern

and this was back in 2013 back when the

stigma was even more prevalent

mental illnesses were often used in the

same sentences as

words and expressions such as crazy the

loony bin

and losing their mind

the stigma perpetuated our fear and

encouraged our silence

but the longer my family and i were

silent about what we were going through

the more questions people started asking

and it wasn’t until three years later in

2016

that my family and i agreed to post a

statement on my facebook page about what

we are going through

a sentence from the post read it’s so

hard to admit

because there’s such a negative stigma

surrounding mental illnesses

and we don’t want anyone to think less

of the incredible

hard-working and strong person that he

is

and just like the day of my dad’s

funeral there was a strong need to

advocate

out against the stigma

and we were initially worried that

transparency would lead to isolation but

in reality it did the opposite

the amount of unity i felt after that

post was equally as reassuring as it was

heartbreaking

for once i didn’t feel alone yet having

this in common with so many people

meant that so many others were hurting

another common reaction we were met with

was it was like you took our situation

and put it into words

it wasn’t uncommon for wives of farmers

in our community to disclose that they

too

were worried about their husbands and

their mental health

farming is an incredibly rewarding

career

but it’s also very isolating

farmers spend much of their day alone

and not only are they alone

they’re pouring their heart and their

soul into their livestock and their crop

which success is

heavily dependent on factors outside of

the farmer’s control

farming is so much more than a career

it’s a lifestyle

it’s a lifestyle that many farmers put

their own self-worth into

between 2013 and 2017 my dad was in and

out of inpatient treatment three

different times

each time was either around planting

season or harvest season

my dad struggled to make the big

financial decisions such as when to sell

his grain

which led to my mom having to

familiarize herself with an occupation

that is

at its best complex

but it never failed that the one thing

my dad always knew how to do

regardless of what his state of mind was

was to get in the tractor

and be in the field it was second nature

to him

after his third stay in inpatient

treatment him and my mom made a

difficult decision

to move off the farm sell our house

and rent out our land

i’ll never forget the day of our farm

sale

the heartbreak the emotion and the

tremendous sense of loss that goes along

with leaving the place you’ve known to

be home

for your entire life

that morning before the sale started i

asked my dad to help me with something

he’d done for me many times before

and he completely snapped at me

he showed more emotion in that situation

than i had seen him show in years

and looking back i know he wasn’t mad at

me

his reaction was a result of deep

internal pain that he failed to put into

words

and my reaction to that situation was to

simply go to another room to cry

for fear of showing my hurt would make

things worse

a response that i’m sure many loved ones

of an individual with a diagnosed mental

illness can probably

relate to

i’ll never forget that day

there’s a difference between living and

existing and it was if that was the day

that my dad stopped living

after our farm sale my dad seemed fine

for lack of a better word he wasn’t

doing exceedingly well but he also

wasn’t in the severe

depths of his depression

he would go through the motions of every

day and he spent lots of time reading

and then five months later my dad was

gone

the last day i saw my dad was christmas

eve

the night before i had gotten engaged to

my now husband kyle

and i was so excited to run in the house

and show him my ring and

tell him that i was going to make him go

wedding dress shopping with me because

he helped me shop for all my prom

dresses before that

and that night was cold too

i was in a hurry to get home i worked

bright and early the next morning at a

psychiatric residential treatment center

for youth

and as kyle and i were packing our car

i didn’t run in to give him a hug

goodbye like i always would

i really truly thought i was going to

see him again

i waved goodbye to him that night just

as i waved goodbye to him

every morning as i took off for school

growing up

two days later i was at work and i

received a text from my mom

call me now

all capital letters and an exclamation

point

and i immediately knew that something

was wrong

and her first words to me through tears

were

i have some very bad news dad has died

and just like the first time my family

and i heard

the words depression and anxiety i

didn’t believe it

how how could this be

my actual life

i often think of that day and how it

affected so many people

i think about how hard it was for my mom

to make that phone call to

all four of her children

i think about the first responders who

saw me run into my parents house and hug

my mom

i think about my co-workers that i had

to tell that could have in no

way been prepared for that situation

i think about the immense anxiety that

loomed over me

every time my mom called me after that

for fear of something bad happening

i get mad i get sad i get depressed

and if there’s one thing i’ve learned

it’s that feelings

whether good or bad are normal and that

what’s not normal

is ignoring our present situation

because society tells us that being

anything but happy is less than

and now your story won’t look exactly

like my story

or my dad’s story but i’m sure there are

pieces of it that many of you can relate

to

how many of you answer good when someone

says

hey how are you even though you’re

really struggling inside

how many of you place your self-worth

into your work

whether it’s your school work or your

career

how many of you have a diagnosed mental

illness and wish so badly

you could explain it to people because

it might help them understand you better

but you don’t because the stigma holds

you back

how many of you have witnessed the

suffering of someone you love

and care about so much

but you feel helpless because nothing

you say or do can make it better

and my point is although our stories may

be different in the sense they are the

same

nobody lives a life of unhurt but

everyone does handle being hurt

differently

whether your self-care is counseling

working out reading

writing yoga or sewing

we must first acknowledge what is

hurting us in order to make progress

and you may not have a mental illness

but you do have mental health

and the sooner we stop the stigma from

polarizing us

the sooner we will see empathy unite us

mental illness is not a reason to judge

someone

it’s a reason to love someone

and now today i am 26 years old

and i am standing in front of all of you

sharing the deepest pain that i’ve

ever felt because i believe strongly

in the idea that we need to stop holding

ourselves to the standard that we’re

mentally strong enough

to handle all of life’s challenges and

start acknowledging

that feelings of vulnerability are okay

thank you

you