Thoughts on Three Things We Don't Like Talking About: Depression, Bullying & Suicide

I've been treading carefully, as of late, in my work as an Olweus Bully Prevention Trainer.  Hence the reason you haven't heard too much about that area of my life.  Last November, I gathered myself, presented myself brave and headed to Seattle to become one of 750+ Olweus trainers in the US.  It was a draining and emotional five days in the rainy city, yet I was determined to begin making progress in the area that held me down for nearly a decade. 

I was bullied, and it wrecked me emotionally for longer than I like to admit.  It changed me and I was lost in my own story for a long time.  Throughout my healing over the years, it has occurred to me over and over again that quite possibly my greatest work lies in this very sort of prevention--the main reason for Seattle and Olweus.  But just as life climbs and plateaus, so do emotions.

In the winter, I realized I had fallen into a depression.  I'd been avoiding this reality, as I was afraid of falling into such a state, after having dealt with a severe bout of depression when I was eighteen.  I recall the bleak, blankness of my life, the lack of tears, the sleep-filled afternoons; the frustration that I felt was my life.  I felt trapped and misunderstood.  I eventually pulled myself out (I think beginning to live my life without trying to please the ones I wanted to please, helped) and began to feel healthier, emotionally.

Last winter was different.  I can't pin-point for you where the root of depression stemmed, but it took hold and created quite a struggle.  I was tired, emotional, negative, and succumbed to many crying sessions.  I woke every night for hours on end and my heart literally felt heavy at the sight of another rainy morning.  I felt sad; I felt frustrated.

I made mental lists for all the reasons I may have been feeling so blue....

• our wreck of a new house
• the rain
• my low back injury which prevented me from doing the running that I loved
• being unsure of my work in writing and Olweus
• my Husband's business partnership splitting
• taking Brooklynn out of the preschool that she enjoyed so much because the drive was too long
• feeling the financial strains of Husband starting a new business
• all of the above making me feel insecure

It was a lot for me, so I had to take hold of it and see my doctor.  I took a step back from the the things that caused me to overextend myself, especially Olweus--the area that requires much clarity and emotional health for me to do the work, and for the last three months or so, I've been feeling myself again. 

As of fairly recently, I've been hit with a handful of reminders and nudges of the work that I so desperately want to do, but I know, I have to be feeling well to do such a heart-wrenching work. 

Did you see the 48 Hours special, Words Can Kill on Friday?  Then just a few minutes ago there was this headline on MSNBC,

 Teen Contributor to 'It Get's Better Project' Takes His Own Life

It reminded me of the recent news stories of two young suicides down at round lake, and when I looked the stories up, it led me to three more names of recent young suicides, bringing the total to five in the area in the since January. 

I'm worked up.  Especially at the thought of people like the administrator that I ran into the other week, who avoided me after our meeting on implementing the Olweus Bully Prevention Program into his school.  He was on board, supportive, told me to call the next month, and then quit returning my emails.  Hassling adults, or administrators, is not my interest, so our correspondence ended there.  But it was awkward when we found ourselves in the foyer of the Human Society together the other week.  I tried to not be seen, he called me by my middle name?, and we made quick small-talk about how we were supposed to meet the year before..."call me anytime," he said.  Yeah.

But then I read daily about my dear friend, Ann, who runs Jeremiah's Hope on Facebook, named after her son, who took his life five years ago or so.  I think of him, and how she works tirelessly to show the importance of this issue--this work, to each and every person she can reach, to tell them about this potential killer that is bullying.  I think of how like me, she doesn't like to public speak, but has a message to share that is so important that she's willing to speak with her voice and hands shaking, and I'm inspired.  I'm filled with hope and care for these kids.  I'm tired of it, and it is time to be part of the change.

Jeremiah Gettis

I have a date

 with CNN for the next five nights.

Tonight begins the week-long focus on school bullying.

Last week, there was the college boy who committed suicide after his

sexual encounter with a man was streamed live online.

Earlier today there was this.

Both stories nearly broke my heart.

Ty Smalley was only eleven when he took his life.

His father said it right when he said,

"you want to know what bullying and suicide is all about,

you talk to the people and the family who it effects the most."

Because I have my own story of being bullied,

stories like these

make me so angry.

It bewilders me that children are so harsh, and the events are so continuous

and without intervention, that in some cases,

it leads to death.

For those who don't choose death,

many chose silence,

and the silence can be extremely detrimental, too.

In my experience, my silence built the foundation for major emotional distress.  

Because talking with my bullies directly about the hurt they were causing me felt out of the question,

and because I silently agreed to "forget about it" as soon as they went on to high school and the regular degradation they had caused ended, I never learned to deal with the emotions that it caused--effectively.

Instead it left broken emotions at my feet.

Sadness. Anger. At times Rage. Staggering relationships. Depression.

When bullies target,

it causes an immense amount of stress, loss of confidence and sense of safety.

Unfortunately, these things last far past the actual bullying itself.

years. decades.

It did for me.

You can

Stand for the Silent

on their Facebook page.

Watch CNN.

It's important.

Times here.

prayers needed.

I was surfing Facebook tonight and came across a cause that I was invited to join, titled,

Hope for Alex.  When I read further, I remembered the mother (of Alex) from childhood and learned that her son was diagnosed with Leukemia this May.  To imagine this little one dealing with such uncomfortable pain, breaks my heart. Imagining this mother's agony over her son's pain, shifted my entire day from frazzled, busy, irritated mother, to I couldn't ever hold my own children enough.  It is a tender position we fill as mothers.  A fine line we walk as we rear, fall-apart, celebrate, teach, learn.  It is a give and receive that I couldn't imagine having taken. 

May the Lord cradle this baby as he toughs through this illness.  May God comfort his family and keep them strong and courageous.  This sort of thing never makes sense, but prayers soothe, comfort, and strengthen.  Prayers heal.

Last night one of Husband's business partners had a stroke.  We learned today that it was pretty severe as he's torn an artery in his brain.  Last we heard, the doctors weren't sure how to go about the operation.  They haven't a protocol for this sort of operation.  They are stunned that Dwinnen is doing as well as he is.  He hasn't lost any mobility, speech, memory.  A miracle.  Truly.  Prayers heal.

Today I also learned that a beautiful blogger's test-results came back cancer-free.  Prayers heal. 

I believe God yearns to hear our prayers, and He's waiting to be asked for miracles.  Of course His reasoning surpasses our plans and wishes.  Regardless, He is a healer and the granter of miracles.

I believe in prayers.

I believe in miracles.

A New Heart For Laith

I was reading the news tonight on katu.com and found this story about a baby who needs a million dollar heart transplant, but the family's insurance and the hospital is unwilling to give the baby what he needs because of how expensive the procedure is. This is a sad situation but with the help from the community I believe he can get what he needs.

Here is the link to the article:

http://www.katu.com/news/40122542.html

Here is the link to the donation site:

http://laithdougherty.info/

Pass this on.

Thanks! Cassie

Another Life Lesson

Last night as I was winding down--blogging, writing emails, and planning an upcoming party, I turned to our local online newspaper for my final reading for the night. I guess I will NEVER do this again, as my night ended with reading the most harrowing & heart-wrenching story. You've heard of the two-year-old who was saved during the terrorist attack in Mumbai, right? When I clicked on the latest update on the story, it showed a picture of the boy crying in the arms of a man. The article went on to describe in detail the Nanny's account of the attack that killed the mother and father (the rabbi and his wife). When the boy was found he was at the bodies of his parents, soaked up to his knees in blood, crying. Immediately upon reading this, I held my face and began to cry. The tears came down, and I found myself trying to control the sadness that had taken over my body.

So why do I tell you this? I tell you this because I realized after that moment of sadness that normally I wouldn't react this way. Because of this, there is something enormous to be said about how desensitized, on a human level, we've become to the violence and terror that our world is enduring. The fact that 99% of the time that I read such stories, (which I do often, because I read a lot,) and that I hardly flinch and then move on, is a critical issue. The issue of one becoming desensitized has been compounding and plaguing our country for decades and decades, and is an issue that is sure to continue.

As I said, the reaction of mine during this reading is sadly out of character. This leads me to my next concern: how will our children feel, or will they feel at all? Will they understand or see the world without the violence, or is it so gravely attached to the understanding of what world means? How can a child, who is known for his or her fresh innocence and whose immediate response is to speak truth, have a chance or one at all when most everything surrounding him or her is polluted and ravaged with violence and sadness? It's hardly seems fair to me that this makes up a huge portion of the world that we bring our babies into?

Although these thoughts run rampant inside me, gratefully I have my faith to turn to, and I am comforted to know that there is a plan in all this. Although there are no answers or promises for tomorrow, there is reason, and it is His reason. Having that faith and to be sure enough that the worries for today are not for tomorrow, but are for Him to address in the right timing, is key thought-process for me. I will never understand all this or begin to understand how I should react or how to exactly address these issues with my children. I just know that tough times lay ahead, and the world will continue to unravel and there will be many more trying times and people who will endure such times. The most I can confirm for myself is that I will do the very best I can to do, for my family and my children, today, so that tomorrow might be better.

I realize that recanting this to you, will do no more for you than what it did for me. It is both tragic and disturbing. I wrote this because I was touched, and it's moments like these that are pivotal in the growth of my spirit, and are important moments for me to reflect on. God is always trying to teach us.

A Boy for President

This morning as I sat reading my "commemorative issue" of TIME with Barack Obama gracing the cover, while my two-and-a-half year old, Brooklynn, sat next to me watching nursey rhymes. While reading that many parents told their children to "remember this day," as Barack Obama would be the first African American elected president, I realized that I hadn't yet taken the opportunity to tell Brooklynn about this man or how this happening would make history. After brief explanation that Obama would be the next President of "where we live," she repeated his name a few times until she had it almost perfect. Then, I reitified the fact that "this man will be our next president." She responded, "He's not a man, he's a boy."