Bethany Thompson, at the age of three, suffered from a brain tumor and underwent radiation treatment to cure the cancer, but as the result of that treatment suffered nerve damage that gave her a crooked smile. For the past eight years, she’s been cancer free, but unfortunately, the mark left behind by the treatments that saved her life were the very thing she was tormented over by classmates. The school and her parents were working together to help resolve the issues Bethany faced, but after a particularly difficult day, she told her best friend she couldn’t take any more. And she ended her life.

When??? When will we have had enough? How many more children have to die to prove we have a huge systemic problem?

I have read comments on many posts to do with bullying and almost invariably someone will comment that the problem isn’t the bullying, it is the need to teach kids to have thicker skins. This is a huge part of the problem. People believing that the problem is that kids will be kids. NO! We are severely lacking in empathy for our fellow human beings. We have placed far too high a value on outward appearance and have devalued the things that matter most about a person — which does NOT include their looks. And yet physical appearance is one of the easiest targets for bullies.

As I am waging my own war against cancer, it is intolerable to me that a child who beat the disease should no longer wish to live. My heart goes out to her parents, Wendy Feucht and Paul Thompson … I cannot image the pain they must feel from their loss. When bullies saw Bethany’s smile, they saw something to poke fun at and to mock her for, instead of seeing it for what it truly is — a mark of valor for a hard-fought battle won.

Bethany with her parents, Wendy Feucht and Paul Thompson, at the Relay for Life.

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As National Bullying Month comes to a close, I thought I’d take a few moments to highlight one of the devastating results of unchecked bullying. Suicide.

My heart is always so full of grief when I hear that someone young has taken their life. I mourn for the life cut short, of what is not going to be; I mourn for those left behind trying to fill the hole in their hearts which are consumed with grief; and I mourn for the torment the person felt which made them feel they only had one option to end their pain. The boy pictured is 13-year-old Danny Fitzgerald, who attended Holy Angels Catholic Academy, and took his life in August this year by hanging himself with a belt in the attic. Danny had been the victim of bullying by a former “friend” and other classmates.

Danny’s path toward suicide was a common one. The bullying started on his return to the school and his grades began to slide. Until they reached the point where the school recommended he repeat a grade … at another school. He had raised the issue of bullying to his teachers, his parents, and the principal. According to some accounts, one of the teachers made the situation worse by publicly calling Danny lazy. Danny felt abandoned to his fate by all teachers but one, who he said did something, but the effects didn’t last long.

I’m not going to cast blame in any direction because I don’t have the full story — in suicide we sometimes don’t know all the WHYS. Danny penned the below letter in July so people would know what he had been through, so obviously, even though he had been released from the school where his tormentors were, his pain persisted and grew worse. What I will say is that every time a child dies because they feel life is no longer worth living and they will do ANYTHING to stop they pain and torture of what they are going through on this Earth, we have failed as a society. The teen years are full of emotional turbulence, but no one should ever have to live without hope of a better tomorrow.

Click to read in full size

If you, or someone you know, are having thoughts of suicide, please contact one of the hotline/lifeline numbers on the Resources page.

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The machine had a malfunction and I was asked to wait while the technician fixed it. No problem. Until I was strapped into the machine and I heard the technician tell the doctor the fateful words, “… the motherboard fried.” So the extra waiting around, only to get unstrapped and sent on for the day with a reschedule for the following Monday, seemed pointless. But I am a huge believer in things happening for a reason and this was no exception.

As I traveled down the freeway to the office, my interchange was coming up, so I had moved to the right. I entered the second lane from the outside and noticed a silver car pulled over to the side ahead and a woman in her early twenties standing in front of the car. As I passed by, she took a racing stance and checked traffic. A minivan was coming, but was a little ways back. The girl waited … until the minivan got closer and then ran in front of it. The van hit her and she flipped upside down and plummeted toward the tarmac.

I pulled over as quickly as I could and reversed down the shoulder. I left some space for the emergency vehicles I knew would be coming and walked back to the scene, certain I would be walking back toward a dead body. However, when I arrived at the scene, a man knelt in front of the girl and was talking to her, telling her to stay still and asking her questions. And she was answering. Amazed doesn’t begin to describe my feelings at that moment. I felt as if God had spoken and said it wasn’t this girl’s time yet.

While the lady who hit her was shaken, as anyone would be, I was so impressed by her faith and her selflessness. Every time she spoke, her first words were a prayer for the girl, concern that she would live. She had no opportunity to miss hitting the girl, and I cannot even imagine the nightmares she must be having from having done so. My heart went out to both the girl lying on the ground and the lady who hit her, knowing how easily it could have been any of the eyewitnesses who came back to wait for the authorities. Including me.

The girl was taken to the hospital with an assessment of a broken leg, some cracked ribs, and a cracked head but was expected to live. I was relieved for both the driver and her. Some have said the word “selfish” about the girl … in a way they are right, but I disagree with the sentiment. The urge to take your own life comes from a very dark place, where there doesn’t seem to be any other answer. True, the girl wasn’t thinking about the driver of the car, and the trauma she will now carry with her for the rest of her life. She wasn’t thinking about those who saw her rash act and would live with the memory of it. She couldn’t. The only thing she knew at that moment was the overwhelming depths of despair.

When the CHP, Police, ambulance, Paramedics, and fire engine arrived, I was asked to follow one of the officers past the minivan to make a written statement of what I saw. There, behind the van, were the girls moccasins in the road, side by side, both upright, yet facing opposite directions. Those moccasins, more than anything else at the scene, made an impact on me. The girl was lifted straight out of them, the car passed over them without disturbing them, no marks from the road on their surface. My husband’s grandmother believed that placing your shoes pointing opposite directions helps to ward off evil spirits. I saw them as a sign of God’s hand — no matter the darkness surrounding this girl, she had been saved for a purpose.

Those shoes caused me to take a moment to reflect on my own life and how fortunate I have been to continue living, despite a host of health issues. In fact, I had a down moment this week due to the MRI results which showed a cyst of some sort in the left knee. We now have to jump through a few more hoops in order to determine whether surgery is necessary. And I get rather tired of jumping through the hoops. But I will keep jumping through them because I know there is a purpose for my life and I want to fulfill it. Life becomes so very precious to those who have faced losing it. My hope and prayer is that the girl comes to that understanding because her problems have multiplied from what they were.

I understand where the girl was because I have had my own struggles with darkness and despair, but my innate curiosity saved me from making any sort of attempt to end my life. Because I could always decide to do that tomorrow or the day after that, but if I killed myself today, I wouldn’t be around to see whether tomorrow was a better day and I wanted to know what would happen tomorrow. I still do. Though it may sound trite, I wish every person struggling with despair could know deep inside it is temporary and things will ultimately get better — we just have to keep fighting and doing the best we can. Life is precious, don’t ever give up on it.

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Newspaper photo © Oleg Pidodnya

When I decided to put Diary of a Misfit together, I earmarked the article on Amanda Cummings for inclusion to the collection. It initially caught my attention because the family believed repetitive bullying had been responsible for her decision to kill herself. I was deep in the middle of edits for a Middle Grade novel at the time, so I saved the link and moved on. In June, I had finished the edits, written the beginning of another novel on spec, and had changed my focus to One Way Ticket Home, which will be the next book in the Misfit McCabe series, when I hit a road block with the book. I knew I needed to let it simmer, so pulled up Diary of a Misfit and began working on the stories for it.

I had started working on Current Event when Tina Hoggatt contacted me about being involved in the Story Chairs project. The want to participate in the project was strong, but I am NOT a short story writer, which is what I told Tina initially, but then I realized I was actually working on a short collection of shorts, so I asked her to let me think about it. Then I asked for the maximum word count for the story and her answer of 500 words shook me. I gulped, and told her I’d give it a try, my brain screaming, “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!” the whole time. But I did it … sorta.

My draft to Tina for the Story Chairs came in at 605 words, but I sent it off telling her I’d come in a little over maximum, and to let me know if it was a problem and I’d see how I could trim it. She loved it as it was and said she’d let me know once they got it recorded. Then came October and the news that they were having a problem with the story length and trying to get it into the chair, could I please trim it down. I asked how far, thinking the answer would be the original 500 limit and wondering whether I could cut that deep. The answer removed my ability to breathe … 300 words at the most. I had to cut the story by 50%—a task I thought impossible.

But my brain piped up with “are you a writer or a mouse?” and since I don’t have a long stringy tail, I decided as a writer, I’d have to view this as a challenge to prove my abilities. I opened the document and trimmed here, cut chunks there, and at the end had a story, which still made sense, and it came in at 300 words on the nose. I felt like running a victory lap around the house after that—which probably would have scared the dogs, so I contented myself with a few fist pumps.

Current Event in Diary of a Misfit is the full-length story of the Story Chairs version. Then a crime fiction author friend, Peg Brantley, asked whether I would like to participate in a fund raising auction for the Shaka Franklin Foundation for Youth and when I realized the Shaka Foundation has a special emphasis on teen suicide prevention, I knew I needed to do more. Current Event is the reason I am donating a portion of the proceeds to the Shaka Franklin Foundation for Youth, we lose too many young people too soon. Anything we can do to break the cycle is worth it.

Teaser: A homework assignment cuts a little close to home and Katie McCabe sees the dark underside of online activity for the first time.

Diary of a Misfit is available now for Kindle. A portion of the proceeds from Diary of a Misfit will go to the Shaka Franklin Foundation for Youth.

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Photo credit: © Drew Herron

Since the beginning of the year, I’ve had my head down, working away, and, except for the occasional outburst on Twitter, have even kept my socializing to a minimum (and those who know me, KNOW how I love to socialize.) But BECAUSE of my dedication to getting things done (okay, so the muse has been threatening me), I was able to announce my involvement in the Story Chairs project a couple days ago and NOW I get to share with you another project I’ve been working on

Diary of a Misfit

The idea for Diary of a Misfit started when my character, Katie McCabe, wanted to start blogging; the topics were situations she felt strongly about and the types of issues which happen throughout the course of the Misfit McCabe series. After she posted a few, I realized these were topics she would have journaled about in her diary … and Diary of a Misfit was born.

For me the short collection is akin to the extras at the end of the blu-ray or DVD. There are some scenes I knew about, but couldn’t put in the book, like Tim’s Shiner because they happened before the series starts, as well as a merging of real life into the world of Katie McCabe. And there are author notes scattered throughout, giving a bit of additional insight. I am proud of this collection, perhaps in part because I never thought I had it in me to write short fiction, and because it has a unique blend of elements.

And one more thing, before my taskmaster puts me back to work on the next project (announcement coming soon… I hope) with this short collection I wanted not only to give extras to my readers, I wanted to also give back. So, a portion of the proceeds will be donated to the Shaka Franklin Foundation for Youth—an organization with an emphasis on youth suicide prevention. Too many teens have lost hope, and lives are cut short before their time. We need to help.

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