Sook-Yin's blog: Secrets and difficult considerations
What can we do to help friends or family members struggling with a mental health challenge? That is the question at the heart of this week's DNTO. It's something we don't often talk about it. Here, Sook-Yin Lee wrestles with her own experiences.
(Warning: sensitive content.)
Mrs. Aaron played on my mom's curling team. Early one morning when everyone was asleep, she left her house and made her way through the woods to the Lynn Canyon Suspension Bridge and jumped to her death.
I found out when I got to school and saw her daughter, my classmate Janine, surrounded by clamouring nine-year-olds. She seemed to be floating above everyone, politely smiling and unsure of what to do with all the attention.
I felt terrible for what I had done. The last time I saw Mrs. Aaron was when we drove her home in our station wagon after curling practice. She was smoking in the passenger's seat with the window rolled down and was talking to my mom. Her face was caked with makeup, that unforgettable baby-blue eyeshadow. She exhaled onto Mountain Highway and I called out from the back seat a phrase I'd learned from TV, "You should kick the habit!"
Mrs. Aaron burst out laughing. It's a moment that struck me after she died. I felt callous and cruel for saying it. I wanted to take it back and I wondered about the pain she had been carrying that she kept a secret.
The next suicide was years later. Lou barricaded himself in a garage and left the car engine running next to a note explaining why he chose to end his life.
I kicked myself for not having noticed the signs. The week before, he invited friends over for dinner and we went dancing. That night he gave me his favourite jeans. I never thought twice about it and gladly took them; I figured he was purging his closet.
After he died, I wished I had known what he was going through. I wondered about the pain he had been carrying that he kept a secret.
Last year around this time I suffered a double whammy with difficulties at work and with a family member. I spiraled into a dark place and experienced a searing psychic pain that would not lift.
I called into work sick and was told that I could take a few days off provided I get a doctor's note. I don't have a doctor. I go to a family-health clinic where medical students are trained. In the examination room there is a video camera that records the procedure, and when a student makes a mistake, someone watching calls in and corrects them.
On that day I was led into a small room where a medical student asked questions about my condition and entered notes into a computer. She returned with a doctor-in-training.
The first thing I noticed was that he had a black eye, like he'd been punched hard. It was swollen almost shut and he was behaving like a professional with his white shirt buttoned to the top. He asked how I was feeling. There was something in his curiosity and care that made it impossible to hold back. Soon I was full-on weeping.
The doctor-in-training with the most empathetic expression asked, "Has the thought of suicide crossed your mind?" I took a moment to consider my response and was about to answer when he interrupted, "Before you say anything, I'm obliged to tell you that if the answer is yes, I'll have to hand you over to the authorities, and the police will ensure you're not a threat to yourself."
I was taken aback, aware of the video camera angled toward me. I wiped away my tears and answered no. I was simply there to get a medical note for work.
The doctor-in-training seemed relieved. I stared at him and his terrible black eye and wondered about the pain he was carrying that he was keeping a secret.
by Sook-Yin Lee
DNTO tackles mental health and suicide in the recent disappearance of Winnipeg artist Reid Bricker through the eyes of his grieving mother Bonnie Bricker and other family members and friends. It airs Saturday, Dec. 12 at 3 p.m. on CBC Radio One.