On May 1st, 2009 in the basement of his home in the small wilderness town of Irons, Michigan, my 57 year old father, Michael J. Kurdziel, answered Shakespeare's most famous question in the negative; He took arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, ended them.
I got the phone call while at work on a production outage call. My first reaction was shock and disbelief -- is this really happening? As the crushing weight of sadness fell on my shoulders, the tears streamed from my eyes, and I left the office without a word, half walking / half stumbling out of the building into a light drizzly rain and an overcast sky. The weather in Denver, which had been perfect and sunny all week, had decided to match the moment.
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Those first two paragraphs and much of this blog entry were written in the early days of May 2009. Today is actually May 17th, 2010 - the day that he would have turned 59. Much has happened and changed in my life and inside my head since that fateful day. To a certain extent I have been avoiding finishing this entry for a year, but it has never been far from my mind. Even today I still consider it in draft form, but it's bothering me to have it on the back burner for so long, so I want to post it for his birthday today.
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While shock was the overwhelming emotion when receiving that first phone call, I knew over the past month or so, that my Dad had been depressed. From semi-regular phone conversations, my impression was due to financial reasons, loneliness, and the cold extended winter. He had been laid off from a stint at Home Depot and collecting unemployment. Due to the slow economy and remote area, new jobs were not readily available, and he had been focusing on finishing construction of a partially completed house that he purchased in 2008.
A sense of blame and feeling of guilt was the next wave of emotion. I think it's an unavoidable reaction for anyone when they find out that someone they know has committed suicide. While it's easy to say "it wasn't your fault", and of course there's an element of truth to that, there is also an element of truth to the opposite. I'm very confident that if I'd called him 20 minutes prior, that it wouldn't have happened - at least not at that precise moment. Hell, if the dentist, car mechanic, etc had called him right then to set up his next appointment, it's possible it could have impacted events. Areas of gray become very emotional when the stakes are so high:
if only I would have called more often...
if only I would have insisted he come visit San Diego to get away from the cold winter... it was only his second winter back in Michigan after living in temperate San Diego for 20 years
if only I had sent him some money - I wouldn't have missed it - so that he could see the financial light at the end of the tunnel...
if only I had flown out and visited again and helped with the house...
if only I had taken his depression more seriously and helped him get treatment...
if only I had encouraged him to exercise more...
if only I had thought to tell him to get a pet to keep him company...
pages of coulda, woulda, shoulda thoughts run through my mind. It's not limited to things that actually make sense. For example, thoughts like "if only as a kid I'd not wished him ill after he'd yelled at me..."
There is a lot of pain associated with these kinds of thoughts. Unfortunately, that's all they are is thoughts - the past is past, and this particular past carries a terrible sense of finality that feels very wrong. If it was a movie or tv show, this event is so out of context with the rest of the movie, that I would be expecting some kind of "it was all a dream" or time travel based "magic undo".
My Dad had been living with depression for some time - probably longer than anyone really realized. Perhaps he would have taken this path years ago, but he
did draw on the support around him at those times. Actually, his current situation was mild compared to things that he'd appeared to make it through unscathed in the past. Nothing at the current stage of his life appeared to justify any extreme actions. He had family and friends he loved and who loved him back. While loneliness was part of the problem, he was capable of striking up a conversation with almost anyone at anytime and often made friends easily.
The financial situation wasn't even that bad. We'd discussed it in a fair amount of detail and it seemed that he might only need about $1000 / month to keep working on the house. His unemployment was set to end, but I'm pretty sure it would have extended much longer than the initial 6 month term. My 3rd bedroom, vacant and almost entirely unused since he'd lived with me, probably could generate almost enough. A number of family members had offered him money and I really think he knew that his financial situation was not unrecoverable.
He had told me in the past that the idea of being a burden bothered him, and I think that's part of the reason he shut out his options of help. More importantly though, the only way I can make sense of this act was that it had to do with more than the current situation. He just wasn't in any kind of extreme situation that justified considering suicide.
"Remember your loved one as he was, not for what happened," the words of the police officer assigned to the case sounded shallow and tinny as they came through my cell phone. Regardless, it's probably not bad advice.
My Dad was a unique individual. He had a memorable quality to him - my friends remember him years later, even if they'd only met him briefly. His 6'3", 200+ pound frame was only part of it. He was outside the norm in almost every way. I think he enjoyed being different. He even would intentionally do things to differentiate himself, whether it was wearing a funny hat, telling everyone "Happy Birthday" on his birthday, or questioning things that no one else seemed to notice.
One of the core values he taught me was to be yourself, even if others laugh about it or if it would be easier to conform.
His occupations included: packing trains, Forestry, Woodworking, Loan Officer, Financial Services, Realtor and Real Estate Investor.
Some of the things he loved throughout his life were Swimming, Forestry, Woodworking, Guitar, Renovation of houses, Honda cars, Taekwondo, Sailing, Canoeing, Hunting, Chess, Basketball, Guitar, and Nature.
The next emotion after guilt that I had to deal with was anger. It seems like such a selfish action to take one's life and leave your family grief stricken, as well as missing out on talking to them, participating in their lives, knowing his eventual grandkids, visits, etc.
Sometimes it seemed like he was two different people. The upbeat, joking, happy side and the morose, sometimes angry side. As a kid, this didn't make sense to me, but in hindsight, I think it was part of a struggle waged inside his head throughout his whole life. Not that I claim to be able to read his mind, but I suppose I lived with him longer than almost anyone else, and spent a fair amount of time trying to understand him for a multitude of reasons. Once, when I was about 14, we were at the library and he was researching the topic, he mentioned bipolar disorder and wondering whether it would help him to take lithium. That was a period of depression also, following the divorce from my MoM. It's possible that he saw a psychiatrist at that time who recommended lithium, but to the best of my knowledge, he didn't take it or any other medication at the time. Bipolar or Manic/Depressive disorder was something I didn't know much about and didn't put much faith in being more than psychobabble mumbo-jumbo. I don't think he did either. He was a very mentally strong individual and valued as well as instilled in me a strong sense of self-control. However, after his passing and learning more about the condition, I am convinced that he was manic depressive and it explained a lot of behavior that I didn't understand at the time. His moods often swung between extremes of overly enthusiastic/confident to inconsolably sad, occasionally with explosive anger mixed in. (Some info on
manic depression). IMHO, the medical write ups don't give much of a feel of the condition - perhaps it's because they are all written from the perspective of it being an illness that only has negative effects and a treatment goal is to eliminate it. In looking for more substantial information and understanding, I found and read
An Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison, a manic depressive psychiatrist's autobiography. She presents the condition, not exactly as an illness, but more like a personality trait with both positive and negative effects. I didn't know that many famous and high-achieving individuals are manic depressive. Some examples: Van Gogh, Beethoven, Kurt Cobain, Charles Dickens, and Issac Newton. As I understood her, the treatment goal, instead of eliminating the condition altogether, is to achieve as much of a balance as possible and avoid situations where it's possible to harm oneself or others.
I'm not going to lie and say that the relationship between Dad and the rest of the family was always smooth, but in hindsight I believe the good out weighs the bad. During my childhood I built up a lot of resentment toward him, and even had periods when I really believed that he was the root of all my problems in life. During college, after moving away from home, I made peace with our relationship though, and forgave him for things that went awry growing up. More recently, from February to October 2007, he lived with me following a deep depression and hospitalization. He had mentioned within earshot of an off duty police officer that he was considering suicide. In some ways, this was a tough period for me, but I'm glad I had that time with him and got to understand him more. That period cemented an interpretation of his behavior that he really did give his all where his family was concerned, and that the shortcomings of temper and other behavioral oddities were largely outside of his control. Best intentions aren't an excuse for yelling at a family member, but combining best intentions with the idea of a manic depressive personality finally gives a plausible explanation for observed behavior. One example that I never understood while he was alive was the trouble he had during holidays or times that should have been fun/upbeat - like a trip to Disneyland. The only explanation I could think of while alive was that he didn't like to see people having a good time, but that doesn't make complete sense, because in less intense / more relaxed situations, he very much enjoyed seeing people having a good time. What does make sense to me now is that he had trained himself to avoid getting too happy/excited/manic during those times in an effort to avoid the resultant depressive swing. Along those same lines, the professional help he received leading up to and after his 2nd divorce in 2007 was only aimed at treating depression. Anti-depressants initially help during periods of depression, but they also can trigger strong manic episodes and subsequent extreme depressive swings. Much like a sugary snack will pick you up following lunch-time food coma, but ingesting a significant amount of sugar is likely to lead to a "crash" later as the sugar "high" wears off.
It would have been nice to have some of this understanding while he was still alive, especially since manic depression carries a 20% chance of suicide!, but if professionals didn't diagnose him manic depressive, it seems very unreasonable to expect family or friends to do so. Part of the problem is that I think he generally did have fairly good control of the swings - although I read it can get worse as one gets older, which along with the anti-depressant rubber-band effect and other issues initially noted (finances, winter, loneliness, living in a partially constructed house) start to paint a picture where I can almost understand why he felt like ending it. One takeaway is that increased understanding of manic depression throughout the population as a whole may help others living with the condition. To that effect, I setup
a memorial donation page at the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance and a number of friends and family have donated to the cause - which is nice to see.
The note was not found initially by the police or my uncle - even though they looked for one. If I remember correctly, I found it in a box of unrelated documents that had been carried to my Grandpa's house by the time we arrived in Michigan - days later:
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I'm sorry to all of my family who has tried to helpme. I love you. I wish I could have shown you better.I just cannot cope with all the things that are happening to meIt is all too overwhelming and I can't see a way to solveeverything for the future. I didn't prepare enough, that's obviousI really don't know why I made all the strange decisionsI did over the last year. Some how trying to feel better butnot well thought out. I took on way too much with thishome. I thought I could do it, but it is obvious it isfar beyond my skills to complete. I am so ashamed of all this.A huge mistake. I was not thinking right many times over the lastyear. I can't seem to move forward toward solutions.My dear sons. I wish I was a better father to you. You areso much more deserving of a better father than I have been.I never wanted to be mean or unloving. I only wanted to be loving, but I know you don't see that. I love youand I am sorry. Please don't do what I did. Carefullyplan your decisions and get plenty of good advice beforeyou make them. Live within your means. Stay out ofdebt. If you are in debt, get out of it as soon as possible.Make this your first priority. I made many big mistakesin this way. I cannot believe some of the decisions aboutbuying things I made over the last year. Stay in yourjobs. And stay in a city where there are jobs available.Don't ever buy anything on credit and be in a situation like Iam where you can't find a way to pay it back. I shouldn't havebought this home. It was way too much for me. I had afalse confidence in my ability at the time and didn't calculatethe costs well. Be sure you calculate the costs of everything beforehand. Don't let my death hurt you too bad. You aremuch smarter and better than me. I have been stupid.You are not, you are much much smarter. You get that frommom. Rely on her. She is the very best of people.Dad. I love you. Thanks for the help you always gave me. Iam sorry for letting you down.Glenn, thank you for trying to help me. Mary Ellen, thank youfor everything, and Mark, thanks for being nice to me andhelping. There is so much more I would like to say to everyone, but I don't feel like I make sense anymore soI pray that God will forgive me for everything.I am sorry, I can't function or think normally anymore. I am sorry.------
The note still brings tears to my eyes. I do believe that his family was the first thing in his mind, and that he had convinced himself somehow that this was the best for us - to not have to worry about him anymore. I'm not so sure about the financial advice. I think it was weighing heavily on his mind, but we had talked less than two weeks before about the numbers in some detail - I had even offered to help with however much he needed per month. I'm sticking to not seeing the finances as a primary motivation - I think he knew it wasn't unrecoverable, it probably just seemed like something others could relate too - much more than feeling very sad for unexplainable reasons or loneliness, etc. Especially with the economy in full recession in spring 2009 - financial concerns were at the forefront of most peoples' minds.
If my Dad had been in a car accident, there wouldn't be an issue of being angry with him for taking his life. With my increased understanding of manic depression and being convinced that he was affected by this condition, I can see his actions as a "mental accident". I am completely convinced that he didn't want to hurt his family, and in his head at that moment, he felt like he was being less of a burden by ending it.
My current view is that some element of manic depressive behavior is part of the human condition. Where the line gets drawn between an illness and "normal", I'm not quite sure. Since there is a genetic element and I notice some of the behavior in myself that convinces me that my Dad was manic depressive, I am interested in learning more and possibly seeing a therapist to discuss further. I do think that some of my Dad's actions trained me to have the skills necessary to live with mood swings. For example, not getting too carried away with positive emotions, and instead being prepared for the eventual downswing. Or in bad times, being able to see how things are not as bad as they could be, or that they will get better soon. I think these are the things he tried to do for himself and I imagine they took hold better in me than him, since he was teaching them to me from a young age.
Also, there are effects like observing my Dad's paranoia regarding the world at large, that seeing from an external view didn't make sense - instead I saw the self-fullfilling prophesy angle of the beliefs and in reaction to that I've trained myself to avoid paranoia. If I do have an element of manic depression in my personality, I'll have to thank him for being somewhat trained to deal with it.
My preliminary thoughts on how to avoid/live with manic depression:
- daily exercise and regular/sufficient sleep if feeling down
- maintain close relationships with friends/family - avoid emotional isolation, which allows inner thought patterns to become more real than they should be
- seek help if necessary. when able, give freely with no expectation of reciprocation. maybe it's mystical, maybe not, but positive karma can't hurt.
I miss my Dad a lot. I'll identify klondikes and vernors with him. Had some of those today to commemorate his birthday. While he lived in San Diego it was nice to watch or play basketball, or have him help repair something around the house. Over the phone we would talk on business ideas and many other topics. I think he would find the 24HoursOfLemons racing I've been into since he passed away to be very interesting, and probably chat about the M3 I bought recently quite a bit (mainly all it's mechanical problems and either wondering how Hondas don't have those problems, or ways to fix them). A few of the things he taught me throughout my life
- where there's a will, there's a way
- don't worry, be happy
- how to take care of physical possessions, repair them and make them last
- chess
- winging it / persistence
- how to stay quiet and still for long enough in the woods so that you can observe the wildlife
- not to be afraid of much of anything / self-confidence
In October of 2008, my brothers, MoM, and I made a trip to Irons to visit him as well as the other family in the area. My MoM hadn't been back to Michigan for a large percentage of the time since 1987. It was a nice trip and peaceful final remembrance of him in person. We went canoeing, got Irons famous beef and venison jerky, and helped him some on the house.
One of the things I have faith in is that things happen for a reason. Feels strange to think of my Dad's passing in this context, but a few positive outcomes have been to bring the family closer together, give more appreciation for those with mental conditions, and perhaps most importantly it reinforces the point to enjoy every moment of life to the fullest.