Writer found suicide series difficult

During my five years at the Frontiersman, I have made it my policy not to write opinion columns on the controversial subjects I cover because I think it is important to strive to report news in an unbiased manner.

After working on a series of articles on teen suicides in our community, however, I have decided to make an exception. These have been, without a doubt, the most difficult stories I have ever written, for many reasons.

I began my series by interviewing a mom who had recently dealt with the death of her teen-age daughter. She had contacted the Frontiersman and encouraged us to write about the apparent suicide epidemic in our community.

As the two of us talked, this mom shared the most intimate aspects of her grief and detailed the months and days before her daughter's suicide, which occurred in the family's home.

After the interview was over, I found myself choking back tears as I sat alone in my truck. Never before had my job left me so saddened. Thinking of my own baby daughter and teen-age brother, I wished I could somehow ease this family's pain.

Not knowing what else to do, I plunged forward with the series and phoned counselors, police and school officials. I researched via the Internet, and found my stack of notes and pamphlets overflowing my desk at home.

I was soon contacted by several people in the mental health field who were angered by my initial article and said I had glorified suicide. A few implied that I might be responsible for other teen-agers killing themselves because of what I had written. Another said my approach, and the Frontiersman's decision to run the story on the front page, showed that we subscribed to the media stereotype, "If it bleeds, it leads."

To say that I was horrified at these accusations and implications does not begin to describe my feelings. My only goal had been to truthfully and fairly share one mother's story. I was comforted, however, by the fact that the mother had no regrets about our interview or my article.

Other mental health professionals, however, came to me not only with criticism but also guidance. Representatives from the Mat-Su Borough School District, Life Quest and the Juvenile Assessment Center provided me with an overwhelming amount of information on warning signs, intervention techniques and contributing factors.

During the same time, I was also contacted by several parents who had lost their teen-age children to suicide. They all had unique experiences that they were willing to share with me. I was grateful for their stories and at the same time felt them weighing down my heart.

I worked to incorporate many of these interviews into my articles, but they did not make them any easier to write. Again and again I was struck by the diversity of opinions. Some said the only commonality among teens who kill themselves is depression. Others dismissed this, saying that unusual events can trigger suicide in a teen-ager who otherwise showed no signs of depression, while at the same time many teens who are exposed to the same and worse experiences do not consider killing themselves.

Some blamed the prevalence of guns, while others said those set on suicide will find a way no matter what is available. Some pointed to alcohol and drugs as a leading factor, while others said diagnosable mental disorders and chemical imbalances are often the root of the problem. Some blamed a culture in which violence and death is entertainment, while others blamed a law enforcement or mental health system they felt had failed them.

Dark winters, a growing and changing community and torn families were added to this complex and controversial list of causes.

At times during the process of writing these stories, I wondered if there was a point to my efforts. If the issue is so ungraspable and apparently unsolvable, why even talk about it?

But then a father of one teen-age suicide victim sent me an excerpt from "The Healing of Sorrow" by Norman Vincent Peale. Peale writes that suicide is perhaps the most tragic form of death, that those who are left behind are not only dealing with shock and grief but also a stigma.

"I think our reaction should be one of love and pity, not condemnation," he writes.

Peale goes on to say that his sympathy goes out to those who are left behind because he knows they suffer terribly.

"To such grieving persons I can only say, 'Lift up your heads and your heart, surely you did your best. And surely the loved one who is gone did his best, for as long as he could.'"

I went into this process looking for answers - why are Mat-Su teen-agers killing themselves and what can we do about it? No one, from the parents to the mental health professionals, could give me a concrete answer.

So instead of answers, I have come away with a lesson in compassion. Perhaps all I or anyone else can do is to listen, genuinely and with open minds.

Eowyn LeMay Ivey covers outdoors and education for the Frontiersman.