Dead Serious: Breaking the Cycle of Teen Suicide (Book Blast)

Title: DEAD SERIOUS: BREAKING THE CYCLE OF TEEN SUICIDE
Author: Jane Mersky Leder
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 237
Genre: YA Self-Help

Thirty plus years after publishing the first edition of Dead Serious, this second completely revised and updated edition covers new ground: bullying, social media, LGBTQ teens, suicide prevention programs, and more. Scores of teens share their stories that are often filled with hurt, disappointment, shame--yet often hope. Written for teens, adults and educators, Dead Serious: Breaking the Cycle of Teen Suicide explores the current cultural and social landscape and how the pressure-filled lives of teens today can lead to anxiety, depression--suicide. Leder's own journey of discovery after her brother's suicide informs her goal of helping to prevent teen suicide by empowering teens who are suffering and teens who can serve as peer leaders and connectors to trusted adults. The skyrocketing number of teens who take their own lives makes Dead Serious: Breaking the Cycle of Teen Suicide more relevant and important than ever.

"Talking about suicide does not make matters worse. What makes matters worse is not talking."

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CHAPTER ONE

WHEN IT’S SOMEONE YOU

Like a comet

Blazing ‘cross the evening sky

Gone too soon

Like a rainbow

Fading in the twinkling of an eye

Gone too soon

Shiny and sparkly

And splendidly bright

Here one day

Gone one night

Like the loss of sunlight

On a cloudy afternoon

Gone too soon

Like a castle

Built upon a sandy beach

Gone too soon

Like a perfect flower

That is just beyond your reach

Gone too soon

Born to amuse, to inspire, to delight

Here one day

Gone one night

Like a sunset

Dying with the rising of the moon

Gone too soon

Gone too soon

“Gone Too Soon” – Michael Jackson

Kevin’s Story

Kevin’s history book was open and sitting upright on his desk.

He couldn’t concentrate, not after last night’s scene. He wondered

whether Brad had gone straight home or walked the streets brooding

over Olivia and her new boyfriend. Never mind. He and Brad

were going to have a great summer. Camp out on weekends. Work

at the grocery down the street during the week and make some big

bucks. Maybe take a trip to the Rockies at the end of the summer.

Brad would forget all about Olivia.

He closed his eyes. Thinking about his summer plans with Brad

made him even more anxious for the school day to end.

When Kevin opened his eyes, he saw his counselor, Ms. Davies,

standing over him.

“I need to talk to you,” she said quietly.

What had he done now? He picked up his books and followed

Ms. Davies into the hall.

“Something terrible has happened to Brad,” she said. “His

mother found him in his car in the family garage last night.”        

So, that’s where he went.

Ms. Davies took a deep breath. “Brad is dead. He took his

own life.”

“He’s not dead. We’re playing cards tonight.”

“There’s a detective in Mrs. Lyons’s office waiting to talk to you.

He wants to ask you some questions.”

…

Kevin slammed the car into reverse and screeched down the

driveway. He and his parents had been arguing all morning. His

mother was worried sick that he’d “drive off a cliff.” His dad had

ordered him not to drive to the funeral alone. They were upset.

He didn’t care.

Why hadn’t Brad talked about it? Kevin would have listened.

They told each other everything. Now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe

Brad hadn’t wanted his help. Maybe he hadn’t wanted anyone to

change his mind. Kevin swiped at the tears running down his

cheeks. He wasn’t going to get all choked up. Not again. Brad

hadn’t talked to him, so why should he care?

…

The funeral was supposed to be small, but there were hundreds

of people, people Kevin had never seen before. He hated all the

strangers. Brad would have hated them too. He was the shy, quiet

type who loved being by himself, taking things apart and putting

them back together. Why couldn’t he have gotten his life right?

Kevin walked closer to the casket. He could see Brad’s mom

surrounded by a ring of people. She looked so tiny. Kevin had

always thought of her as much taller. He remembered the night

Brad had come home drunk. Mrs. Brogan had told Brad what a

fool he was. If he wanted to be a fool, she’d said, he could be one on

his own time. But he had better not be a fool in front of her again

or she’d knock him around the block and back. Mrs. Brogan had

seemed very tall that night.

Kevin wanted to talk to her. He wanted to tell her how sorry

he was and how, even though Brad never touched a cigarette in

front of her, he chain-smoked when he played cards with the guys.

If only he could reach out and hug her and make everything like

it had been. But he could barely remember the last time he had

hugged his own mother.

The knot in his stomach tightened. Brad had had a few problems.

Who didn’t? Olivia, his first girlfriend, had started dating

someone else. And he hadn’t been able to decide what to do after

high school. Being a cook in Miami sounded cool. “Asshole idea,”

his dad had said.

When people started out to the parking lot, Kevin sat up,

adjusted his tie, and nodded at the other three pallbearers standing

near the casket. He had never understood funerals. His mother

had told him that they make a permanent picture in your head that

the dead person is gone. He didn’t need a funeral to do that.

…

Why had Brad taken his own life? Someone was responsible.

Not Mrs. Brogan. She had always been there when Brad needed

her. And sometimes when he didn’t. He remembered the time,

years before, when she’d marched Brad back to the grocery store

and made him admit to the checker that he’d lied when he said the eleven pop bottles were his. What he had done was dishonest, and Mrs. Brogan had wanted her son to accept the consequences. At the time, Brad had hated his mom for being so principled. Later on, he realized she’d done the right thing.

Kevin tried not to blame Mr. Brogan, but it wasn’t easy. Brad’s

father worked, slept, and drank beer. That was it. When Brad had

been younger, his dad had come to watch him play football. But

when Brad had quit the team, his dad had been angry. “You’re just

like me, only worse,” he’d said. Brad wasn’t anything like his dad.

When his dad got angry, everyone paid. When Brad got angry, he

got quiet and withdrawn. He was the only one who paid.

…

Kevin’s best friend was dead, and there was no reason. If he’d died

from a disease or an accident . . . But he had taken his own life.

What could have been so bad? It made no sense.

If only he had known Brad was so unhappy. If only he had seen

the signs. But what signs?

Kevin remembered the night back in seventh grade after the

roller-skating party. Brad and another friend, Dave, had decided

to walk home instead of riding the bus. They didn’t have far to go.

Besides, maybe they’d stop at McDonald’s for something to eat.

As the boys approached the restaurant, Brad challenged Dave to a

race. Brad took off across Madison Street with Dave on his heels.

They talked about the accident only a couple of times. Brad

told Kevin the car swerved to miss him but hit Dave instead. There

was nothing the paramedics could do; Dave was dead on arrival at

Good Shepherd Hospital.

Brad hadn’t been the same after that. He had seemed to crawl

into a shell. He got headaches that made him vomit, and his skin

turned white. He got pimples all over his face. Kevin figured Brad

had to work it out on his own; he didn’t know what else to do.

If only he had done something then, maybe Brad would be alive

now. If he had made him talk about it. But Brad had said he didn’t

want to talk, and Kevin hadn’t pushed. Anyway, Brad couldn’t have

taken his own life because of an accident so many years ago. He

had to have forgotten all about it.

A sharp guy like Brad doesn’t kill himself for no good reason.

That would be crazy. Brad might have been confused, but he wasn’t

crazy. Maybe his dad had finally gotten to him. Mr. Brogan was a

cop who worked the shift from three in the afternoon to eleven at

night. And on weekends, Mr. Brogan sat in front of the TV, drinking

beer and doing crossword puzzles. If he drank too much, and

he often did, he’d either fall asleep or leave the house without telling

anyone where he was going.

One night, the phone rang late, and it was someone from the

hospital telling Mrs. Brogan that her husband had been in an accident

and that she better come right away. Brad told Kevin one side

of his dad’s face looked like it had been mashed in a blender. He

was cut up so badly he stayed in the hospital for almost a week.

“That’s not good enough,” Kevin screamed. “You couldn’t have

killed yourself because of your old man. You could have moved out,

gotten your own place with some other guys. You go off and kill

yourself without letting me know, without letting me help. Okay.

So you wanted to keep it to yourself. Fine. Keep it all to yourself. I

don’t care. Just don’t expect me to waste my tears over you.” Tears

streamed down his face.

Maybe this was all Olivia’s fault. She and Brad broke up every

other week. They broke up, then got back together. Again and

again. They went steady off and on for two and a half years.

Brad and Olivia would be going separate ways after graduation.

So why not get it over with? Brad didn’t care. At least that’s what

he said.

During a card game with Kevin and some other guys, Brad had

talked about his future. “You’re lucky,” he’d said to Kevin. “You know what you want to do. You’ve got your art. You want to be an artist. I’ve got nothing.”

Kevin had felt uncomfortable. He’d known Brad was having a

hard time. “You’ll get it together,” he had said.

…

Brad had made one more attempt to win Olivia back. When that

had gone south, Brad had stormed off. He’d insisted on walking

home. “Just go. Take my car and go.”

“I can’t take your car,” Kevin said.

“Take it.” He shoved the keys in Kevin’s hand.

“Come on, this is nuts.” Kevin tried to give the keys back. But

Brad had already turned around and begun walking away.

Frustrated, Kevin got into the car, turned the key, and then

slowly backed down the driveway. Okay, he thought, I’ll cruise

around the block a few times and stall for time. Brad needs to cool

off. After wasting several minutes, he drove by Brad walking slowly

toward home.

“Hey, jump in. You’re crazy to walk. Besides, this is your car.”

“I want to walk. Just park the car in the driveway and leave the

keys in the mailbox.”

No use arguing. When Brad made up his mind to do something,

he did it. No point in trying to stop him.

…

A month after Brad took his own life, Kevin halfheartedly agreed

to play poker with some of the guys. He had to get out of the house.

Kevin waited anxiously to see Brad again. He had so much to tell

him. He was going to art school in the fall. The high school baseball

team had taken the league championship. Olivia and her boyfriend

had broken up.

Brad never reappeared. But Kevin thought about him a lot.

Some days he thought he understood why Brad had killed himself;

other days he had no idea. He could never remember how

long it had been since Brad had died. Sometimes it seemed like

years, sometimes only a few days.

Time was meaningless to Brad’s mom too. She and Kevin

talked a lot. Every time he saw her, she cried. Not right away. She

pretended she was fine at the beginning. Then she’d ask Kevin if

he remembered a certain incident, such as the time she’d marched

Brad to the grocery store to return the bottle money. And then

she’d cry. At first, Kevin felt funny talking about Brad. He thought

the less he talked, the sooner the pain would end. But it was just

the opposite. Talking made him feel better. Sometimes it made

him laugh. More often, it made him cry. The letting go felt good.

But the searching for answers never stopped.

Now, the knot in Kevin’s stomach often loosens. His younger

brother tells a dumb joke about the chicken crossing the road and

he laughs. The wounds are starting to heal. And sometimes things

are almost as they were. He forgets all about Brad. The pain is

gone. Then, like a ghost, it reappears. When he’s playing baseball

on a hot summer afternoon, or when he opens a bedroom dresser

drawer and finds an old shirt he once loaned to Brad. How could

he ever forget?

Reactions to Suicide

It’s been many years since I interviewed Kevin (not his real name)

about the suicide death of his best friend. In many ways, his reactions

to Brad’s death mirrored my own and those of the majority

of others who have lost a friend or family member to suicide: the

denial, the blame, the guilt, the anger, grief, search for answers,

and the healing that never goes in a straight line.

Take a look at the following quotes and decide which reactions

to suicide they each represent.

one:     “He’s not dead. We’re playing cards tonight.”

two:

“ There must have been a reason Brad killed himself.

Someone was responsible.”

three:

“ If only he had done something then, maybe Brad would be

alive now. If he had made him talk about it. But Brad had said

he didn’t want to talk, and Kevin hadn’t pushed.”

four:

“ You go off and kill yourself without letting me know, without

letting me help. Okay. So you wanted to keep it to yourself.

Fine. Keep it all to yourself. I don’t care. Just don’t expect me

to waste my tears over you. tears streamed down his face.”

five:

“ He wasn’t going to get all choked up. Not again. Brad hadn’t

talked to him, so why should he care?”

six:

“But the searching for answers never stopped.”

seven:

“ The wounds are starting to heal. And sometimes things are

almost as they were. He forgets all about Brad. The pain is

gone. then, like a ghost, it reappears.”

one: Denial

When Kevin was first told that Brad had taken his life, he refused

to believe it. The truth was too hard to bear. How could his friend

do something like that? It didn’t make sense. And it was easier to deny

that his best friend wouldn’t be at the card game that night, or any other night, than to accept that his friend was dead.

Denial is a short-term defense mechanism against death—

death by suicide or by any other means. “I can’t believe that this

has happened, that he won’t be around anymore.”

two: Blame

Kevin did his best to find someone to blame for Brad’s death:

Maybe it was Mr. Brogan, Brad’s father. He hadn’t been the most

supportive of dads. Or maybe it was the friend who was hit by a car

in front of Brad and later died. Then there was Olivia, who broke

up with Brad and broke his heart. Or maybe it was Brad himself;

he didn’t have a clue what he wanted to do after graduation.

Truth is there is never one reason why someone takes his/her

own life. And never just one person to blame.

three: Guilt

Friends of those who have taken their own lives, such as Kevin, feel

they could have prevented the suicide if only they had known how

unhappy their friend was. In some cases, they did know their friend

was suicidal but didn’t tell anyone, probably because they were

sworn to secrecy. Secrecy is never an option. If you sense or know

that a friend is severely depressed, find a trusted adult who can

help your friend get the professional help needed. Better to break

a friend’s confidence than to lose him forever.

four: anger

Anger is part of the grieving process. We usually get angry when

feeling hopeless, helpless. You get angry at the friend who took his

life. Angry at the fact that he didn’t bother to talk to you about his

problems, that he didn’t even say good-bye. Angry at yourself for

not seeing the writing on the wall. While anger is a natural reaction

to suicide (to any painful loss), it eases over time. Most often,

the anger morphs into sadness and forgiveness.

five: Grief

Everyone reacts differently to suicide. Some people scream and

cry. Others, like Kevin, try not to get emotional but waver back

and forth. But sooner or later, they’re forced to accept the truth: a

friend is dead, and the death was not a mistake.

There are no right or wrong ways to grieve. You can take all the

time you need, even when people say things like, “Well, you’ve got

your life back on track, right?” or something more direct: “It’s time

to stop feeling sorry for yourself.” Life is not a TV show in which

characters “get over it” in thirty minutes to an hour. It takes time to

grieve. For many, the pain never goes away; it becomes a dull ache.

six: Search for Answers

For Kevin and everyone who has lost someone to suicide, the

search for answers can be confounding. If someone dies in an auto

accident, there is a cause, a reason. If someone dies from a disease

like cancer, there is a reason. If someone dies of old age, the death

is understandable. But suicide? There are only guesses as to why.

Some survivors, like me, find comfort in talking to everyone

who knew the person who took his life in an attempt to find clues

or, in some cases, to find support. The act of doing something can

be helpful. I wrote a book. Now I’m writing a second one. I’ve

learned a lot about my brother and about the way other people

remembered him. But after all these years, I still have many questions

that will never be answered.

But I’m still certain that my brother visited me after he died. I

know I wasn’t crazy when, a few days after my brother’s funeral, he

appeared in my bedroom in the middle of the night. I sat up and

turned on the light, and there he was—dressed not in some white,

angel-like getup but in a pair of faded jeans and a work shirt. I was

terrified and had no idea what to do or say. For three nights, my

brother showed up after dark. On the third night, I managed to

tell him how much I loved and missed him but that I understood

he’d made a decision to move on to whatever was next. He nodded,

turned, and walked through my closet.

I’ve retold this story many times. And more often than not,

people look at me like I’m crazy. They think I’ve gone off the deep

end with grief. But I know what I saw was real. I know that my

brother needed my permission to leave this earth plane and that,

as his older, beloved sister, he’d come to me to cut the cord.

seven: Healing Never Goes in a Straight Line

There are days—even weeks or more—when the grieving stops.

Your life goes on. Then you hear a song or see an old friend or

attend a family event, and the pain returns. Usually, the grief

doesn’t last as long as it used to. The truth is: it never goes away

forever but leaves a dull ache that comes and goes.

Strategies:

Resources

If you know someone who has died by suicide and feel that you

need help or information, contact any of the following people or

organizations near you:

• Local support group – You can use support group directories

from, among others, the American Foundation for Suicide

Prevention (Afsp.org/find-support/ive-lost-someone/find-asupport-

group) and Suicide.org (Suicide.org/suicide-supportgroups.

html).

• School counselor or teacher whom you trust

• Private counselors – Ask your school counselor or doctor for

recommendations.

Jane Mersky Leder was born in Detroit, Michigan. The "Motor City" and original home of Motown have driven her writing from the start. A "Baby Boomer" who came of age in the Sixties, Leder is fascinated by the complexities of relationships between generations, between genders, and between our personal and public personas.

Dead Serious, a book about teen suicide, was named a YASD Best Book for Young Adults. 

The second edition of Dead Serious (with a new subtitle): Breaking the Cycle of Teen Suicide, will be published on January 23, 2018, and will be available as both an ebook and paperback on major online book sites, at libraries, and at select bookstores.

The Sibling Connection: How Siblings Shape Our Lives, and Thanks For The Memories: Love, Sex, and World War II are among Leder’s other books.

Leder’s feature articles have appeared in numerous publications, including American Heritage, Psychology Today, and Woman’s Day.

She currently spends her time in Evanston, Illinois, and San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.

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