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Kevin Smith's Story
Karla was my twin sister, my only sibling. She was beautiful in every sense of the word - incredibly talented as a writer, a promising scholar, and a dazzling conversationalist. I admired her more than anyone I knew. Karla lived for the moment. She was an adventurer, a free-spirit who would always find a way to make it through difficult situations. We were opposites from the very beginning. I was into business, sports, and math and was structured, always planning, and thinking about the future. Though we had our differences, we had this amazing connection, almost like we could feel what the other one was feeling. We simply understood each other. Maybe it was the twin thing.
I attended Saint Louis University for college and Karla chose Oklahoma State University (OSU). During her sophomore year, at age 19, she started experiencing unbearable mood swings. She'd call me in the middle of the night, sometimes totally depressed, other times completely out of control with wild ideas, stories, and delusional thoughts. I would try everything I could to reason with her, but when Karla would start on a rant, there was nothing I or my parents could say to change her thinking. We didn't know what was wrong with her, why she acted like this at times, or how to help her. Her grades suffered and she was unable to complete most of her classes.
These unpredictable cycles continued off-and-on for two years and at 21, she was admitted to a hospital and diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It was a new word added to our family's vocabulary. Karla was the first person I knew to be diagnosed with a mental illness. A mental illness is so difficult, because it's not like cancer or AIDS. You can't see it, put it under a microscope and know what it is or exactly how to treat it. It attacks our most precious gift as people - our spirit and our emotions.
For the next three years, from the summer of 1999 to the summer of 2002 with the help of doctors and counselors, she found the right medication and stabilized. She had earned very few college credits during the previous roller-coaster years, so she enrolled back at OSU in pursuit of an English degree. Over the next five semesters, she achieved a grade point average of 4.0. She was involved in campus activities and wrote for literary magazines. Karla was a delight during these years, yet there was always that fear which lingered in the back of my mind that maybe one day the phone would ring and it would be a troubled Karla.
On August 7, 2002 our 26th birthday, I got the call I always feared. I knew right away she was in a full-blown manic episode. My heart sank. Unknown to anyone, she had stopped taking her medicine a month earlier. Her idea was to become manic again for a short period to help overcome the writer's block she was having in writing her memoir about living with bipolar disorder, titled 'Glue.' The glue was a reference to the medication that held her together between mania and depression. She wanted badly to educate others about mental illness, but this time she quickly spiraled out of control. Her desired short period of mania turned into a tumultuous 6 months of ups and downs, horrible relationships, difficult decisions, and family turmoil.
As her twin, I always felt like Karla's protector. She said I wasn't only her brother, but I was part of her soul family. My parents and I tried everything any loving family would try, from paying her bills, to weekend visits, to daily conversations with doctors, hospitals, and counselors. Karla's presence would light up a room during her good periods. But during the difficult times, our family walked on eggshells and often felt helpless as we watched her world begin to crumble.
I flew her to Belleville, IL for Christmas that year to be with our family. Each day, we could see her falling deeper into depression. Mom went with Karla back to Tulsa the next week. On December 31st, in her deepest state of depression, she was admitted to a mental hospital and put on suicide watch. While our family wanted her to remain in the hospital for at least a month, Karla wanted out and convinced her doctors she was healthy enough to be discharged on January 10th.
On Monday evening, January 13th, 2003 around 5:00 pm, I was in a meeting at work in Milwaukee when my cell phone rang with a caller-id from my parents' house. The voicemail said to call home immediately. Even before I called, I knew. I walked down the hall to a private conference room and dialed. When my parents answered, all I said was, 'Tell me she didn't do it." We cried together. Suicide had taken my twin.
The what-if's and should-have's haunted me for several weeks and months after her death. While it still is hard for me to believe that it actually happened to my family, I've learned acceptance through a new perspective. Karla had an illness and as much as I wanted to help her cure it, that cure was out of my control. Not everyone with bipolar disorder dies by suicide, but some do and Karla was one of those people. I can say it now and I can accept it now because there's nothing I could have done to change it.
Soon after her death, my parents and I knew we wanted to take action to help Karla accomplish her life-long mission of mental illness education and support. After much planning and hoping, we officially launched the Karla Smith Foundation (KSF) in November of 2005. Our mission is: 'to provide hope for a balanced life to family and friends of anyone with a mental illness or who lost a loved one to suicide.' Through our weekly support groups, we have developed nine basic strategies for families living with a mental illness. KSF has grown faster than we had even hoped and we are excited for its' future. As we meet more people impacted by mental illness and suicide, their stories continue to be strangely comforting - even to me, even now. I know we are being guided by a watchful eye.
Earlier this year, my parents attended a national suicide prevention conference in Seattle. When they told me about SPAN USA, I visited the website and felt an instant connection. I was touched most by the Share a Story features, as anyone who is a suicide survivor can attest to similar feelings of loss and emptiness. I wanted to share my story in the hopes that others throughout the SPAN USA network could connect as well. Knowing you are not alone sometimes makes all the difference.
Six months after Karla's death, in August 2003, I contacted OSU where Karla was just 9 credits away from earning her English degree. At their December 2003 commencement ceremony, they awarded Karla an honorary posthumous degree. The Dean of the English department spoke eloquently about Karla and read an excerpt from one Karla's most powerful writings. My parents and I accepted her degree in front of a standing ovation of more than 3,000 people.
Good things continued to come to me after Karla's death. At her funeral and thereafter, our family received an incredible outpouring of support. One young woman came up to me at the wake service and asked if I recognized her. When I said no, she introduced herself again. Her name was Emily Sherbert and my jaw dropped. Emily was Karla's best friend in our Broken Arrow, OK neighborhood from age five until high school.
A few months later, Emily tracked me down via e-mail. We connected days later when we ironically discovered I was working in the same city as she was living. We rekindled a long lost friendship. She understood me and she understood Karla. We were both in other relationships at the time and remained good friends for several months. A year later, when our relationships ended for separate reasons, it didn't take long for us to realize there was more to our friendship. We fell in love and I proposed this past April at the Grand Canyon. As our wedding planning is in full swing, of course the one person I'd want most to be at our wedding won't be there. Yet, had it not been for Karla's death, my new life with Emily would not be happening. God closes a door, but opens a window and many windows have been opened for me since January 13th, 2003.
I miss Karla every day, but her memory is alive as I share our story to help other families touched by mental illness or suicide. I'm realizing that maybe this really was God's plan for Karla and me all along.
Kevin Smith as told to Julie Heifetz
Read another survivor's story, by Sam Bloom
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