Monday, March 23, 2009

Love is the Movement

Now, more than ever, I feel a calling to help people. Just days after I sent emails to the Crisis Center of Tampa Bay and the Suncoast Yellow Ribbon Chapter (in an effort to get involved with their depression awareness and suicide prevention programs), I had an interesting encounter. I went into Target, while wearing my 'Love is the Movement' t-shirt from the charity, To Write Love on Her Arms (TWLOHA). The shirt represents a not-for-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide.

On may way out of the store, I noticed a man and a woman, both about the same age as me walking ahead. Not thinking much of it, I proceeded to my car and opened the door when I heard the man yell, "nice shirt!" I looked over and saw him pointing to his chest. The man was wearing a TWLOHA shirt too.

I had never heard of TWLOHA until a few weeks ago, when I was searching online for ways to make a difference. I stumbled across the TWLOHA website and read about the organization. Inspired by the work they do, I ordered a shirt from their online store. This was the first day that I wore my TWLOHA shirt out in public, and I was genuinely surprised to see this gentleman wearing the same shirt.

I was curious to hear his story, but I didn't want to overstep my boundaries, considering his reasons were most likely personal. I asked if he was involved with TWLOHA. He shook his head 'no' and explained that his mother had committed suicide last year. I told him that I lost my cousin to suicide as well. We talked for a moment about increasing awareness about depression and suicide prevention. I didn't get the man's name, and we only talked for a few minutes, while standing there in the parking lot. The encounter was brief but powerful.

The following night, I received a phone call in response to one of the emails I sent out. The woman on the other end of the line was the founder of the Suncoast Yellow Ribbon Chapter. I told her that I would like to volunteer my time, and help her out with the annual SYRC fund-raising event. I also shared some ideas that I have for a promotion to raise money for the organization during September, which is suicide prevention month. She was easy to talk to, and the tone of our conversation quickly turned more serious. She told me how she lost her 17-year-old son to suicide in 2002, and she was the one who discovered him. A couple weeks later, his best friend killed himself as well. I shed tears as I talked to this woman. I wanted to jump through the phone and hug her. I wanted to help her in some way. In order to heal from this, she needs time and support.

I share a common goal with the man from Target and the woman who lost her son, in that we are all working to communicate a message of hope and compassion, while increasing awareness about depression and suicide prevention. We want people to know that it's OK to talk about these things. If you suffer, you are not alone. There are many ways to overcome this illness, and it does not have to consume you or define you.

Here is a link to the SYRC website, if you would like to learn more: http://www.suncoastyr.org/

And if you or someone you know is suffering, immediate help is available 24 hours a day at 1-800-SUICIDE (1-800-784-2433).

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Telling Chrissy

Now that I'm embarking on the journey of writing my book, I feel as though it's important to communicate with those who are close to me. There's no doubt that my story will be shocking and hard to read for some, specifically - my family. I've spent my entire life hiding my depression, so it's a strange feeling picking up the phone and discussing it openly. I told my dad last week. He's one of the most caring and light-hearted people I know. He was genuinely surprised and concerned to hear that I suffered from this illness; he had no clue.

It's interesting... I must have appeared totally normal and functional on the outside, even though I was hurting so badly inside. I became a professional at hiding the pain. I didn't want my family to worry about me - especially after all that we had been through. So, I just accepted the fact that the pain was a part of me. When things got really bad, I made sure that no one saw my tears. I worked hard to keep it that way.

My sister is really the only person who knew about it, and even she didn't find out until recently. She finally figured it out, after a horrible night that could have taken my life (which I explain more about in the book). She gave me an ultimatum and dragged me kicking and screaming to a psychologist two years ago, who promptly diagnosed me. I was then sent to a psychiatrist who put me on medication. We told our mom, and that was it. Just my mom and sister knew, and I had every intention of keeping it that way... that is, until I got better and realized that I had finally found the subject matter for my book.

Yesterday, I told my cousin. This was a big conversation, and here's why:

My family is very close. Growing up, my four cousins were more like my sisters and brothers. My mom was a flight attendant, so my older cousins (Shelly and Chrissy) took care of me and my sister Vanessa when mom was away. Brad was the same age as me. We grew up in the same town, had the same friends and played the same sports. People would joke that we were "the twins" in school. Technically, he was my cousin. In my world, he was my brother. Jeff, our youngest cousin, is a year older than my sister. We were a big, happy family (or so everyone thought)... the popular kids, the athletes.

On July 20, 1998, Brad committed suicide. He shot himself while sitting in his jeep by the lake we grew up on. He was 20 years old. The police found a nine page suicide letter on the passenger's seat. One of those pages was written to me.

I know that there have been many unanswered questions over the years, and there are still open wounds - 11 years after the fact. It will always be that way. His death changed us, and we will never fully recover from it.

So, when I called Chrissy yesterday, I talking a mile a minute. I told her everything. We spent a long time on the phone... We spoke about Brad a little, but we mostly talked about my book and ways that I plan to get more involved with depression awareness and suicide prevention programs. She asked me two important questions. 1) Do I think my fate would have been different if I hadn't seen first-hand how Brad's death affected our family? and 2) Am I ready and prepared to do this (in reference to writing the book)?

The answer to question one will be its own chapter in the book. And the answer to question two is a no-brainer. Yes, I'm ready and yes, I'm prepared. If I hadn't found the light, then I would still be hiding. But I have found peace within myself now, and I know that my purpose is to help other people who suffer.



Bradley Richard King (June 2, 1978 - July 20, 1998)
May the Sun Always Shine on You

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Defining the Book and Blog

About the Book
Raw and real, this book is an introspective look into the world of depression and suicide through the eyes of a survivor. Writings include reflections, journal exerpts and poetry over a 20-year period. This is a story of internal conflict, self-awareness and hope, as the author takes you on a journey into her world. It's about finding the light in unconventional ways and learning how to make positive changes to become a happier and healthier person, from the inside out.

In my own words
I am not a doctor, and I am not a psychiatrist. I can't offer you advice, and I won't tell you how to live or think. I have not spent years in classes, studying mental illness. Most of what I know, I've learned through my own experiences.

What I can offer is a different perspective. No clinical definitions or evaluations. Just my story. As someone who has both suffered from depression and coped with the loss of a loved one who committed suicide, I understand the magnitude of this illness. I know that it's just as powerful and life-threatening as cancer and AIDS. I also know that it doesn't have to consume you and that it is possible to find the light.

About the Blog
I started keeping journals at the age of 5. These hand-written books chronicle my life. For as long as I can remember, writing has been my release and it's been therapeutic for me. I wasn't "officially" diagnosed with depression until 2007, but it's been there all along, and there's no hiding it when I reflect on my writings. My journals are filled with thoughts and feelings that I never intended for anyone to read. But I came to the realization recently that I have the power to help other people who suffer by sharing my story, and that's exactly what I am going to do.

I didn't realize this at the time, but I've been writing my book for most of my life. Now, it's a matter of organizing my words and putting them into a format for a general audience... for you or for someone you know who might benefit from it. Going through my diaries is an emotional roller coaster. I put my dark thoughts on paper; I turned the pages, and I closed the books. Now, I'm opening those books again, with the intention of helping people. The organizing and writing process is turning out to be an emotional journey. The purpose of this blog is to chronicle my feelings and revelations as my story unfolds into a novel.