David Baxter PhD
Late Founder
Why? The Enigma for Those Left Behind from Suicide
by Julie Hersh
April 28, 2011
Unspoken words - trying to heal without the question answered
A few hours after my public gift of Struck by Living to Kathie Russo, a thirty-something woman named Debbie Rudnick approached me about her documentary. Debbie was interviewing Survivors (people left behind after a loved one's suicide), but she wanted the perspective of someone who attempted suicide. She asked if I'd be willing to be interviewed. Sure. Interviews have become second nature to me in the past year. "How about right now?" she asked. I nodded yes and wondered how bad my lips would look sans color.
Debbie led me to a room in the corner of the hotel, equipped with lights, cameras and two guys that adjusted the equipment and powdered my nose. Debbie told me her dad killed himself when she was 3.5 years old. I figured she was a Survivor, who else does a documentary on suicide? But these cases are always hard, especially the ones where the person never knew the parent. Why? That's the question they always want answered. I answer as best I can.
She asked me the details of my suicide attempt. I mentioned that it was very important to me to not leave a mess and not have a family member find me. Her eyes hardened. "My brother found my dad," her jaw set. "I've never been able to forgive him for that."
I asked if a gun were involved. It was. I responded that I've never had a gun in my house and will never have a gun in my house. I stumbled over my words trying to find the right ones. I know I'm not her father, but my guess is the poor guy battled thoughts of suicide a long, long time before he pulled the trigger. For me suicidal thoughts pounded in my head not daily, but by the minute. If I entered a room and saw a gun on the table, I'm certain I would not be here today.
I told Debbie my guess is that her dad loved her and her family very much, but the gun landed in his hand at a moment when he could no longer battle the incessant message to end his life. Like most that attempt suicide, her father likely believed his family would be better off without him. What he did was not out of lack of love for her. Debbie looked skeptical.
"I feel like I'm talking to my dad," she said. I've played this role before. So many people are left behind, left with questions that never have a good answer. One friend, Brice Beaird, wrote a song about my book Hold on to Me. His sister killed herself 25 years ago. Others want to know why a loved one failed to ask for help. I'm not channeling dead people, but I do seem to be the human sounding board for all those unanswered questions. I do the best I can with Survivors, which almost always feels painfully inadequate.
As Debbie walked me to the door, I asked her if the experience helped. "Yes, I guess you are just saying what everyone else here has said. He just wasn't thinking." I disagreed. He was thinking all the time. He probably resisted suicide a long time because he loved her and her family. I tried to explain this to Debbie, but I'm not sure my words made sense. For those left behind, suicide never does.
Julie Hersh is a mother, corporate wife survivor, advocate for mental health awareness and author of the book Struck By Living: From Depression to Hope. Despite an idyllic family life, including two children and a loving husband, the depression that consumed former business exec Hersh drove her to three suicide attempts in the space of six months. In this inspiring, brutal memoir, Hersh documents her struggle back to life, including stints in hospital psychiatric wards, a month at an anti-depression camp, various medications, and electroconvulsive therapy (ECT).
by Julie Hersh
April 28, 2011
Unspoken words - trying to heal without the question answered
A few hours after my public gift of Struck by Living to Kathie Russo, a thirty-something woman named Debbie Rudnick approached me about her documentary. Debbie was interviewing Survivors (people left behind after a loved one's suicide), but she wanted the perspective of someone who attempted suicide. She asked if I'd be willing to be interviewed. Sure. Interviews have become second nature to me in the past year. "How about right now?" she asked. I nodded yes and wondered how bad my lips would look sans color.
Debbie led me to a room in the corner of the hotel, equipped with lights, cameras and two guys that adjusted the equipment and powdered my nose. Debbie told me her dad killed himself when she was 3.5 years old. I figured she was a Survivor, who else does a documentary on suicide? But these cases are always hard, especially the ones where the person never knew the parent. Why? That's the question they always want answered. I answer as best I can.
She asked me the details of my suicide attempt. I mentioned that it was very important to me to not leave a mess and not have a family member find me. Her eyes hardened. "My brother found my dad," her jaw set. "I've never been able to forgive him for that."
I asked if a gun were involved. It was. I responded that I've never had a gun in my house and will never have a gun in my house. I stumbled over my words trying to find the right ones. I know I'm not her father, but my guess is the poor guy battled thoughts of suicide a long, long time before he pulled the trigger. For me suicidal thoughts pounded in my head not daily, but by the minute. If I entered a room and saw a gun on the table, I'm certain I would not be here today.
I told Debbie my guess is that her dad loved her and her family very much, but the gun landed in his hand at a moment when he could no longer battle the incessant message to end his life. Like most that attempt suicide, her father likely believed his family would be better off without him. What he did was not out of lack of love for her. Debbie looked skeptical.
"I feel like I'm talking to my dad," she said. I've played this role before. So many people are left behind, left with questions that never have a good answer. One friend, Brice Beaird, wrote a song about my book Hold on to Me. His sister killed herself 25 years ago. Others want to know why a loved one failed to ask for help. I'm not channeling dead people, but I do seem to be the human sounding board for all those unanswered questions. I do the best I can with Survivors, which almost always feels painfully inadequate.
As Debbie walked me to the door, I asked her if the experience helped. "Yes, I guess you are just saying what everyone else here has said. He just wasn't thinking." I disagreed. He was thinking all the time. He probably resisted suicide a long time because he loved her and her family. I tried to explain this to Debbie, but I'm not sure my words made sense. For those left behind, suicide never does.
Julie Hersh is a mother, corporate wife survivor, advocate for mental health awareness and author of the book Struck By Living: From Depression to Hope. Despite an idyllic family life, including two children and a loving husband, the depression that consumed former business exec Hersh drove her to three suicide attempts in the space of six months. In this inspiring, brutal memoir, Hersh documents her struggle back to life, including stints in hospital psychiatric wards, a month at an anti-depression camp, various medications, and electroconvulsive therapy (ECT).
