My mother was screaming in the background. I knew I was about to be told
something awful.
My father steady, but shaken
spoke to me in a tone of voice that was more careful and confused than
normal.
"I have some bad news, Carson," he said. "This morning, your friend
Simon killed himself."
It was a Sunday morning in early September (2004). Simon and
his family were getting ready for church. Simon went into the bathroom to
shower. He never came out.
* * *
I would later find out that Simon
had bipolar disorder. He was on medication and was being closely tended to by
his family in the last month of his life. He had attempted suicide earlier in
the week. Simon's last months were dark. It seemed very peculiar for a generally
upbeat person like Simon to turn such an ugly corner. What causes this kind of
radical, but ultimately horrible, transformation? Why didn't anyone see this in
him for so long? How does this happen? Simon was my best friend; I need to
understand how and why this happened. After talking with many counselors who
deal with bipolar and schizophrenic patients every day, I slowly began to
understand what occurs at the focal point of a person's emotional
deterioration.
* * *
"Jesus." My voice was neutral. I didn't yell.
I didn't sob. I was quiet, but not hushed.
"I don't know what happened," my
mom screamed. "Why did he do it?" She was more hysterical than I ever thought a
person could be.
I quickly hung up the phone. There's an odd feeling that
comes over you when your entire life's course is drastically altered in a matter
of seconds: a brutal convergence of the surreal and the hyper-real. My life
suddenly felt very grounded and heavy any lightness or frivolity I felt was
vanquished. But such overwhelming information cannot help but put you into a
dreamlike state. Those brief moments after I hung up the phone were a bizarre
Purgatory between lucidity and unconsciousness.
I was sitting in the basement
of the house where Simon had lived two months prior. When our junior year of
university ended, we both decided to stay in BC and try to make a go of it on
our own instead of moving back home to our families in Alberta. Simon only made
it to July. That house was where I had heard the news about Simon. That house
was the last place I talked to him on the phone. That house was the last place I
saw him.
Understandably, I was shocked. But it wasn't a blindsided shock. It
was the shock of the moment where you realize that one of the most important and
integral people in your life has vanished completely. Had this happened eight
months earlier I would have been stunned and inconsolable, but in reality, the
true essence of Simon had been vanishing for some time. Simon's behavior had
become erratic and abrasive. He was irrational. This wasn't the Simon we knew.
Many of those closest to him had been mourning the loss of Simon for over half a
year.
Despite his recent troubles, his friends brushed it off as a mere phase
- something that a little honest self-reflection could take care of. We knew he
was in a slump, but we were all unaware of the severity. The problem was that
all of Simon's friends had a hope for a better future. Simon did not.
* *
*
At first I was confused by Simon's diagnoses. Why bipolar? I pictured
someone laughing one minute and sobbing the next. Why not schizophrenia? I
always hear bipolar and schizophrenia used in the same sentence. What's the
difference? After talking to some experts on the topic I discovered that the
primary difference between schizophrenia and bipolar disorder is that
schizophrenia is a thought disorder and bipolar is a mood disorder. They can
have similarities in symptoms, but the root causes and treatments are different.
The most common treatment for both is medication and therapy. Therapy is
necessary to confront the distorted thought patterns that arise from both the
manic and depressive phases of the illness.
Schizophrenia has either positive
or negative symptoms -- the positive symptoms are those that add to the person's
experience, such as hallucinations. The negative symptoms are deficits in
functioning, such as lack of emotional expression or problems with social
skills. Schizophrenia is treatable and manageable, if the client stays on their
medication. Problems arise due to delusions, which are often paranoid in nature,
that force patients to go off their medication because they are afraid of being
poisoned or any other thoughts stemming from anxiety.
The biggest challenge
in bipolar treatment is for the client to stay on his or her medication. While
most clients want relief from the depressive swings that come with bipolar, they
often want to hold onto the manic phases, in which moments of euphoria can be
very productive. There are two kinds of bipolar: Bipolar I and Bipolar II. The
criteria for Bipolar I is that the person experiences at least one manic or
mixed episode at some time, along with one or more major depressive episodes.
Bipolar II occurs when a person has had one or more major depressive episodes
and at least one hypomanic episode (which is less severe than a full-blown manic
phase).
* * *
I met Simon Poultney when we were both pudgy nine
year-olds. He was the new boy in my church from Zimbabwe with funny sounding
parents. He quickly joined my circle of church friends, but that one day a week
was essentially the basis of our friendship. It wasn't until about five years
later when Simon began attending the Junior High of the school I had attended
all my life that our friendship deepened. It was the first time a "church
friend" had crossed the imaginary friendship line to become my "school friend."
Never before had any of my peers become such a constant fixture in my life:
School Monday through Friday. Youth Group Friday. Small Group Thursday.
Church Sunday. Basking in the Greatness of Old Saturday Night Live Tapes All
Day Saturday.
Simon and I became extremely drawn to each other. We were both
adolescent punks, so we shared an aesthetic, but there was also a common desire
to become thoughtful and upright men of God, striving to be more than a product
of our upbringing in the often stifling and dim-witted evangelical subculture.
Simon and I joined a Bible study that year. Our group consisted of a few of our
peers and a twenty-something leader named Curt. Generally, there was enough male
bonding to last a hundred "discover your inner-boy" retreats, but there was also
a form of brutal, unsolicited honesty and trust that I had never experienced
before and have hardly experienced since. Simon and I shared the deepest,
darkest and most alienating secrets with each other, only to discover complete
and utter acceptance. The honesty and depth that Simon showed on a day-to-day
basis was awe-inspiring. He seemed wise beyond his years. It was a quality of
Simon's that I wanted to attach myself to. For years the two of us became
inseparable. We shared a similar taste in the arts; we dressed the same; we were
attracted to the same women; we had a plethora of shared experiences and, most
importantly, each of us genuinely admired and respected the other.
* *
*
I talked to a counselor named Beth Murray. Both Simon and I knew Beth
from our hometown in Alberta when after a string of suicides in our high school,
Beth came and talked to our youth group about depression and suicide. She listed
the many possible ways you may be able to detect if someone you know is suicidal
or suffering from a depression. I remember sitting by Simon while she spoke.
Despite whatever sadness was in our lives, Simon and I always saw ourselves as
"above suicide" - at least that was what we told ourselves.
After Simon's
death I talked to Beth about what, exactly, depression was and how it came
about. I knew that I had experienced it for a couple of years in my late teens,
but, being on the other side of it now, I have been able to realize that it's a
disease that can be overcome. But I still struggle to understand what causes
it.
"Depression is a mood disorder that has two forms," Beth told me. "One is
situational depression, which is brought on by life circumstances such as a
grief, transition or loss. The other is clinical depression, which has a
chemical imbalance component. Clinical depression is caused by imbalance in the
brain chemistry of the neurotransmitters. Clinical depression is more likely to
occur in persons with a genetic history of mental illness or depression."
Situational depression does not require medication, but is often addressed
more effectively by engaging in therapy. If left unprocessed, situational
depression can lead to clinical depression.
After speaking with Beth, I
remembered that Simon once told me that his grandfather had committed suicide.
Perhaps this disease seeped into his bloodline. Like any disease, depression has
a cause and effect. When someone gets cancer, generally, they eventually die.
It's hereditary. Perhaps depression was Simon's cancer.
* *
*
Simon was always a pretty good-looking kid. He had a bit of a baby face
- soft features that hid the fact that he actually had a very angular,
European-looking face. He was impeccably groomed. People who didn't know him
would always refer to him as "that guy with the cool hair" or "that really
well-dressed guy" or "that gorgeous guy." As he got older, Simon was able to
pull off the brooding James Dean look to perfect effect. The ladies were suckers
for it. Simon had girls consistently vying for his attention. He was polite, but
he kept his distance from entertaining the girls' fantasies. For most of his
life, Simon never really embraced the dating scene. He was confident that when
something was supposed to happen it would happen. He didn't feel the need to try
very hard for women like the rest of us did.
Simon dreamed big. He carried
lofty aspirations. He had a passion for film and music that he planned on
integrating with his faith. He wanted to spread truth in a way that was neither
hostile nor aesthetically deficient. He loved to sing despite the fact that he
was unbelievably tone deaf and rhythmically challenged. It was endearing to
watch Simon ineptly air-drum to his favorite songs.
* * *
It's
hard to determine when Simon's sickness began to take a hold. Was he showing
symptoms of bipolar disorder or was he merely thinking and acting less
rationally because of a bad mood? I remember the first time we had a
confrontation. During our freshman year of university, we worked on a class
project where we had to make a short film. Simon had an interest in filmmaking
and he saw this as an opportunity to show his chops. Everyone was excited for
Simon to get some experiences behind the camera, but what we witnessed was a
short-tempered, insulting and insecure version of Simon that we had never been
exposed to before. It was an ugly side of a person who no one suspected had an
ugly side. Over the course of the next few years, this side of Simon's
personality would occasionally appear only to be concealed by his usual grace
and generosity.
Less than a month into Simon's last semester of university,
the ugly side began to take over the majority of his life. Always the sensitive
caretaker, Simon began insulting people in ways that dug deeper than surface
judgements. When he played his guitar he would drone through the same note for
hours at a time the sonic equivalent of despair. The notes were ugly and
unchanging despondent, searching desperately for the kind of creative
discovery that would alleviate the sad and violent dirge he was producing. His
passion for music and film had turned into an unhealthy obsession. Simon would
spend entire summer days in the dark watching noir-ish and nihilistic films.
They only fed his despair.
* * *
Simon was a relatively
soft-spoken, but extremely thoughtful person. He was typically the one who
initiated intelligent conversations with his friends. Simon was able to course
through the inanity of adolescent male conversations and cut straight to the
heart of what was vital to dialogue about. He was the first to suggest that God
may be involved in the inner-workings of our lives. Although surrounded by
cynics like myself, Simon was able to "ground a conversation in the heavens"
without alienating anybody or sounding contrived. Simon was devout in his faith
- steadfast. Even in the end. He loved God, but often dwelled, perhaps too
heavily, on matters of struggle in the spiritual realm. It was the one topic of
conversation that I had difficulty engaging Simon on.
Despite his desire for
serious and challenging interaction, Simon had a reliable and warped sense of
humor that allowed him to fit in with those of us who had a propensity for
levity. I remember, once in high school, coming up to Simon with a silly grin on
my face and an absolutely lame non-joke clogging my brain it was something
only he could appreciate.
"Simon, do you know what you would get if Eddie
Murphy married Murphy Brown?" It was a joke ripped from the pages of Rip
Taylor's Lame Puns and Embarrassing One-Liners. Assuming that Simon would
indulge me and allow me to divulge a piece of my idiotic brain (the answer is
"Murphy Murphy," by the way), I gave him the opportunity to play my straight
man. But instead of saying, "What?" Simon got a goofy grin on his face,
too.
"An Oreo baby," he said. He smiled proudly, knowing that he had trumped
me with a joke that was witty, obscure and downright offensive. Simon was good
at things like that.
Simon was also extremely generous. He gave without
expecting anything in return. He was always willing to leap over the "guy
comfort" barrier with a gift in hand. This last Christmas, after returning from
a semester in Lithuania, Simon called me and invited me out for a day on the
town scouring CD shops like vultures. When I arrived at his house to pick him
up, he ran to me and threw a shirt into my arms.
"I got you this in
Lithuania. I figured that looked like something you'd wear." I held the shirt in
front of me to look at the design. Blue roses and green revolvers adorned the
shirt and at the top were the words "FCUK and ROSES." I wear that shirt with
pride.
The Christmas before was even more special. Simon came over to me at
church, pulled me aside and placed a black book in my hands. He said Merry
Christmas and walked away. It looked like a journal. On the first page was a
large mass of Simon's graffiti-like writing. He decided to make my first journal
entry:
1st entry: Sometime around Christmas 2002.
Carson, This is a
book for you to write stuff down in. No, it's not a 'journal', nor is it a
'diary.' I am not asking you to start giving into the 'emo' trend of getting in
touch with your sensitive side for the sake of being hip. I just thought, well,
I read somewhere once 'that great men write down what they're thinking.' Okay,
that does sound an awful lot like keeping a journal, but the important thing is
that I believe you are a 'great' man and, well, you think a lot, so you should
maybe think about writing a lot of that stuff down. You don't have to play by
the 'rules' and write in it every day or some shit like that, but I guess you
could. Just use this book for writing stuff down thoughts and memories that
you'd like to keep and remember. And if you think you're a little 'lame' in
doing so, or buying into some sort of trend maybe you are
but I'm going to do
it too.
Merry Christmas
Simon
The day I found out about Simon's
death, I took the journal and tore out every entry I ever made.
* *
*
In a matter of two months, Simon had endured two failed attempts at
dating relationships. Since he was typically adverse to the dating scene, it was
a shock to his friends and family to see him invest so deeply and quickly into
these women he barely knew. Even more alarming was the fact that he would
spiritualize his feelings, saying, "God had told him" that either of these girls
was "the one." When these relationships quickly fizzled, it became unbearable
for Simon to face his already non-receptive friends. I'm not sure of what
happened in these relationships, but it was painfully obvious that Simon was
humiliated by their failure.
Even more disheartening was Simon's spiritual
life. Simon had an interest in the spiritual realm and was extremely observant
of his faith, but in his later months it had presented itself as a form of
hyper-spirituality. Unlike before, Simon was no longer able to engage people on
discussions of faith. His presentation was pushy and overbearing, his thought
process scattered and alienating. Although it is fortunate that Simon held on to
his relationship with God to the very end, many of those close to him observed
that his intense longing to please God could only set him up for
failure.
"Simon was sun-blind," said Leighton Sawatzky, Simon's oldest
friend. "He stared at the one brightest spot for so long that everything else
around him became darkness."
* * *
"When people are on the verge
of suicide, they are not thinking clearly," Beth Murray told me. "They are in an
irrational place of thinking, where their view of things is skewed. They are
despairing and hopeless, essentially experiencing "tunnel vision" with regard to
their emotional and mental pain. They see no way out of their circumstance, and
only know that they want the pain to stop. They are not able to see and grasp
the impact of their actions on others, and actually convince themselves that
they are doing everyone in their lives 'a favor.'"
* * *
When I
returned home to Alberta for the funeral, Simon's mom, Jenny, came running to me
and gave me a hug.
"Simon felt like he really let you guys down," she said.
It was a crippling blow.
* * *
The last few months of Simon's
life were a mess. Wherever there was turmoil, Simon seemed to be in the middle
of it. A blood-inducing fistfight between friends; a betrayal that left a few of
Simon's friends nearly homeless; hurtful words; resentment; anger; confusion.
For the most part, Simon and I never had any grievances with each other. We
always thought we were kindred spirits. I couldn't stand to watch him
deteriorate. I didn't know how to confront him on his problems. I didn't know if
I should - if it would cause more problems. Simon and I proceeded to grow apart
in those last few months. We still hung out with each other, but there was a
detachment that festered, even when we lived together. I regret those last few
months.
* * *
I had heard differing reactions to Simon's death.
Many were angry with him. Many were angry with themselves. Reactions to suicide
and suicide attempts are so varied.
"Some people understand, and are very
supportive," said Beth Murray, "especially if they have experienced their own
emotional pain or depression. Other people cannot comprehend how someone could
'do that to their family' and are very judgmental of the individual -- they have
no concept of how someone could end up in a place of thinking where suicide
would be an option. Many people view suicide as a purely selfish act. Suicide is
an act of desperation -- a permanent solution to a temporary problem."
*
* *
The day before Simon's suicide I got a message from a friend that
Simon had decided, less than a week before school, to withdraw from classes and
stay in Alberta. My friends and I wondered why he would make such a rash
decision. Seeing that Simon had decided not to work all summer, we all agreed
that it was most likely that he simply couldn't afford it. No matter the reason,
we all felt uneasy about his decision.
"Something's going on," I kept saying.
"There's something wrong." I repeated this for the rest of the night like a
mantra. The people in our circle of friends had been anticipating a good senior
year of school. Simon dropping out was a tremendous blow to our anticipation. We
wanted him in our lives. We were looking forward to mending some of the tension
that had developed the year prior. We wanted things to be right again. Our
excitement had turned to uneasiness.
That night, my roommates -- all close
friends and former roommates of Simon -- and I got into a conversation about
suicide. The tone was graphic and deadly serious. Each person discussed the
topic with fear and gravity in his voice. We were scared of suicide. In
hindsight, it seems like, unbeknownst to us, we were almost anticipating
something drastic. None of us really suspected anything; it was an example of
morbid serendipity. We had opened up to the violence and ugliness of suicide in
order to be prepared when our personal lives were confronted with it. In a weird
way, I believe we were being eased into the shock. Someone was looking out for
us in this.
* * *
The Simon I had known before was a beautiful
human being. I think he knew that too and wasn't able to see a way out of his
darkness.
Simon spent New Year's Eve with my family in Alberta. We drank,
smoked, played poker, laughed and talked about what we wanted to do to improve
the church (big and small C). This topic excited Simon. He had big plans and
loved to share them and learn from the philosophies of those he looked up to.
His enthusiasm was infectious. Simon wanted to start his own church, he wanted
to be a one-man spiritual wrecking crew paving a new path for the
disenfranchised and cynical. That night, I counted myself as Simon's first
follower. We both saw something special in the other. That night I saw a vigor
and passion in Simon that I had never seen before. We stayed up until the early
hours of the morning talking to each other. Everyone else had retired to bed to
prepare for the next day's hangover. We felt that we were on the verge of
something powerful.
"This next year is going to be awesome, man." Simon
cocked a half grin and looked down at his glass of water. "You and I really need
to do something big this next year."
I agreed. I was genuinely excited. We
shook hands and he started to pack up to go back to his house. Before he walked
into the bitter and white Alberta morning, Simon turned around and looked at
me.
"It's good to be friends with you," he said.
"It's good being friends
with you, too."
That was the last time I saw Simon.
* *
*
"Sometimes," Beth said, "before committing suicide, they state their
intentions to others. Sometimes they do not. Often they predetermine to kill
themselves, and then put their affairs in order, or even say 'good byes' which
are often not realized until the person commits suicide."
* *
*
The night before he hung himself, Simon e-mailed his closest friend
Leighton Sawatzky. Contained within the e-mail was a link to a song that Simon
felt represented his feelings at the time. The song is by one of his and his
friends' favorite artists, The Flaming Lips. It is called "Do You
Realize?"
Do you realize
That you have the most beautiful face?
Do
you realize
We're floating in space?
Do you realize
That happiness
makes you cry?
Do you realize
That everyone you know someday will die?
And instead of saying all of your good-byes
Let them know you
realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You
realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world
spinning round
Do you realize?