Kati's Story

My brother Michael died by suicide 21 years ago, when he was 16 and I was 18. So why didn't I know about AFSP until just last year?


It's been a long road for me, and there are still times when I feel I haven't worked through my grief. Of course, it will always be a part of who I am now, but I am finally beginning to get unstuck. A big part of my recent progress is participating in the Out of the Darkness Overnight Walk in Boston this June.


In November I watched (program), webcast on the AFSP website. Listening to others describe their experiences and grief, I realized that I wanted to be able to speak about my loss too, but in a different way. For 21 years it has mostly been in a detached manner. I wanted to be able to talk about it with feeling, with honesty, with heart, and not feel like I was stumbling over words. These five people could do it, and so I thought maybe one day I could too.


After the webcast I participated in the online chat. I felt mildly uncomfortable putting myself out there; after all, these were complete strangers! To my surprise, there were people there who had the same feelings I did, and offered ME support and empathy. Ok, so now what?


On the AFSP website I read every page I could about the Out of the Darkness Walk in Boston, and just felt that I should walk. I needed to begin my final stages of healing, once and for all.But would my family and friends support me? What about my husband? How was I going to raise the minimum requirement? How was I going to walk 18 miles in the dark? Fortunately, the support available to walkers is there – training schedules, how to fundraise, a personal fundraising page, and people available to help you meet your goals.


At Thanksgiving I approached my family, with my husband's support. We hadn't talked about Michael very much, and I was very nervous. I think they were shocked, and didn't quite know how to react, but by the next day, my mom asked more questions and was showing the seeds of support.


I registered in December. Wow. I was really going to do it. This journey would help me heal, help me move on, help me pull myself out from under my own old cloud of grief.


I shared my plans with my dear friend Amy. I was amazed when she said she would walk with me! And several weeks later, more friends said they wanted to walk also! I had never even imagined asking people to walk with me – I was prepared from the start to walk alone. Knowing that I had the support of several friends made me stronger and even more motivated. I am so grateful!


Newly Commited


In January I sent out my first donation request to a Memories group I created on Facebook for my brother. Within minutes, I received my first donation! Within a few days more people donated. I was so touched by their messages of support.


The training schedule provided much needed structure, and I began walking on January 25 – just five months from the Walk. I recruited a friend from work to train with me. Support comes in more forms than money! We bundled up and braved the cold a couple times a week. Walking with someone makes the walk go quicker, and our friendship has strengthened by spending more time together.


Walking with a friend or coworker gives me a chance to reconnect to people and to share my story. I am able to talk about my experience with my brother's suicide. Sharing the mission of the AFSP makes me feel good, like I am contributing to the efforts of many. After all, it was 21 years until I had heard of the AFSP, and I didn't want other people to have to wait so long.


Walking alone gives me time to reflect and reconnect with myself and my own feelings and emotions surrounding my loss. I think of my brother, of the unanswered questions I will always have, and what kind of man he would have been today. I am renewed in my efforts in walking, in large part because I want other people in crisis to know they have somewhere to turn, someone to talk to... something my brother seemingly was unable to do. Sometimes a specific memory is triggered, and sometimes I cry. Yep, right out there in the open, in broad daylight.


I've walked all over my neighborhood, around the neighborhood at work, at the gym, and even on vacation. My layers of self-consciousness are slowly unfolding, and I am beginning to recognize the progress I've made both physically and emotionally. It's been close to 20 years since I've jogged, and just a few weeks ago, I jogged! Yep, right out there in the open, in broad daylight.


Physically walking gets easier. I know I can tackle four miles, six miles, “The Hill” at work, two hours on the treadmill. Emotionally it is bearable also. Knowing how many people support me gives me so much motivation too. Their support means they believe in me, in the AFSP, and in the need for greater resources available. I am obligated not only to myself, as I first thought, but to each person who has donated time, effort and friendship. I am grateful to everyone who is there for me during this journey, and try to let them all know how they are helping me, and more importantly how they are helping those in crisis or in need of AFSP's resources.


Fundraising


Initially, I was very nervous about being able to raise the minimum requirement. I've always shied away from asking people for money, so $1000 seemed like a huge goal! Again, I relied on the suggestions on the Out of the Darkness website for ideas, and have implemented the ones that make most sense for my personality.


I knew I'd be able to get support from my family, but not the minimum! So I reached out to a group I created online. It's a Memories group, and has over 120 members, all who knew my brother, of knew of him through me. I sent a message to all, and have received some support through there. I post progress reports, and am encouraged by the moral support from them too. To make my appeal more personal, I suggested donations of $16 - $1 for each year of Michael's life, or $21 - $1 for each year he's been gone. A few people responded in just that way! The messages that came through on my fundraising page were heartfelt and sincere, and touched me more than I could have ever imagined.


Going through my address book was another big task for me. Finally it was all gathered, my personal message was drafted (again, based on drafts from the Out of the Darkness website), and I pressed Send. Each donation that came in surprised me, in a very good way, and I began to see just how many people are affected by suicide. Every donation renews my efforts to train and to keep telling people about the Walk. One person forwarded my email to several of his contacts, and within a few days a $200 donation had come in – from a complete stranger! I was amazed. Over the next week, several more donations came in, and it was a flurry of excitement in my heart, with thank-yous, and scheduling more walk time.


I tried to think of creative, relevant ways to ask people for support. In one challenge, I pledged to walk one mile for every person who donated before the end of the week. Four people responded. Not as many as I'd hoped, but four people's support is better than none!


At work, we have a strict policy about soliciting fundraising events, but I still wanted to get the word out. A bake sale wasn't appealing to me... but I can make a mean pot of chili! I ran the idea past my boss, and she was on board right away. I would offer bowls of my homemade chili for a $5 donation. If people brought in a to-go container, they could buy more bowls.


Planning began. I'd offer chili, cornbread, cheese, sour cream and chips. Robin would make the cornbread and bring the fixins. I created sign up sheets with a brief statement of what I was fundraising for, including a picture of Michael and telling of my loss. I placed the sign up sheets in the lunchrooms, and within an hour, people were signing up. One of the first caught me in passing and began to share several stories of how he had been affected by suicide. With just one piece of paper, he shared so openly, and said how tragic it was! He feels that there isn't too much someone can do if they have their mind set on suicide, but truly supports my effort in the hopes that we CAN reach people before it's too late. His story was touching, and his expressions of condolence and support reinforced in my mind that I was doing the right thing.


More people signed up, and as they did, several came to me and shared sympathy and their own stories. I found it was a wonderful way to start a dialogue about why the AFSP and this Walk is so important to me. Plus, I got to say to several people, “Yeah, he really WAS a cutie.” And, “I'm walking so that hopefully, someone else is spared this kind of tragedy.”


By Chili Day Eve, about 40 bowls were pledged. My teammate Amy came over and helped me assemble all five crockpots, plus a spare bowl of ingredients. She took two home and turned them on at 5 a.m., and I turned two on at the same time. The other I would start later for the night shift. In the morning I stopped by her house, had four hot pots of chili infusing my car with spicy aroma, and brought them all into work. A few holdouts were bowled over by the smell wafting through the building, and were practically begging for a bowl! THIS is why I made extra!


We set everything out, and bowl by bowl, donations came in. One manager who had forgotten to sign up handed me some cash, refused a bowl, and said, “for the cause...” Another person asked for a second bowl. Some people gave extra cash, others refused change for a ten or even a twenty. Several times people commented on how they thought it was an important cause. Of course, I agreed whole-heartedly!


As a small token of thanks for those who had donated, I prepared a recipe card – my chili recipe on one side, and my story, with thanks for their support, on the other. I attached a packet of premixed chili spices to it also.


By the time Chili Day was over, my coworkers had donated $350! And this was all without being able to solicit. People told other people, or they saw the sign up sheet. Two friends did encourage people to sign up, and that helped a lot. Even after Chili Day, people sent money, and the final show of support was exactly $400.


I had timed the event for April 8, which historically is still great chili weather. Imagine my anxiety when it was forecast to be in the 80s! Regardless, people still signed up, or asked to buy a bowl, even if they had other lunch plans. How cool is that!


Before I left for the day I composed an email to my supporters. It came from the heart, truly. I am so humbled and proud to be working with such generous people, and wanted everyone to know that their support encourages me to keep training.


More Publicity


Another outlet to raise awareness was to submit an article to my company's newsletter. Using the template on the Out of the Darkness website, I filled in my information and my reasons for participating, and sent it to the editor. After a few logisitics questions, she wrote me a very touching personal email, expressing her condolences. Her display of kindness and concern touched me so immediately, tears came, and I had a good short little cry, right at me desk. Yep, right out there in the open, in broad daylight.


It was the first time in over 20 years that condolences had touched me so. I've opened myself up to feeling more deeply and to receiving expressions of support. For so many years, that part of me has been closed off. Now, I am beginning to feel as if the support is like a big pillow, and it's ok to fall and stumble, because I have this ever-expanding network of people who truly care and want to see me succeed. Knowing that makes it easier to put myself out there even more, and after one round of no responses from a media outlet press release, I am ready to resubmit, and follow up.


Today


As of today, I have walked 160 miles in training and raised almost $1800. I am gearing up for the trip to Boston. I keep track of my progress on a small whiteboard at work, and get excited each time I reach a new milestone. I wear my t-shirt proudly on most casual Fridays. I take people up on their offers to walk with me. I write. I see my own progress, I hug those who tell me their own story, and I look forward to being in Boston. Yep, right out there in the open, in broad daylight.


-Kati Gegg