[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 162 (2016), Part 10]
[House]
[Pages 13342-13343]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                   SUICIDE PREVENTION AWARENESS MONTH

  The SPEAKER pro tempore. The Chair recognizes the gentleman from 
Michigan (Mr. Upton) for 5 minutes.
  Mr. UPTON. Mr. Speaker, I rise today to acknowledge the fact that 
September is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. This gives all of us a 
chance to come together to promote awareness about the issue of suicide 
prevention and how we can all help others talk about suicide. For many 
families in communities across the country, loved ones are gone far too 
soon because of suicide.
  Suicidal thoughts and action certainly know no bounds. They affect 
people of all ages, races, sexes, and religions. The statistics are 
startling. Suicide has become the third leading cause of death among 
young people and is the 10th leading cause of death here in the U.S. 
Each year, more than 40,000 Americans die by suicide--more than 100 per 
day, on average.
  A week and a half ago, I was in Kalamazoo's Bronson Park for the 
Gryphon Place Suicide Prevention Walk. A beautiful young woman by the 
name of Kait stood before a crowd of more than 100 and read a stirring 
poem about being bullied and, as a result, how she harbored thoughts of 
suicide.
  Hearing her deeply personal story certainly broke everyone's heart. 
It really did. As a father of two young adults, my thoughts quickly 
turned to them and their school experiences. Bullying is a very serious 
problem in our schools and can lead to depression, psychological 
issues, and, of course, suicide.
  When she finished, I followed up with her and told her that she is 
not alone. Anyone considering suicide or having suicidal thoughts 
should know the same. You are not alone, and there are always help and 
options available.
  In our communities, we have got to do more to stop bullying the 
minute it rears its ugly head. We should do more to reach out to those 
vulnerable to suicidal thoughts and tendencies, particularly young 
people, as they grapple with the pressures of growing up. We should 
also do more to treat mental health issues that can lead to suicide.
  Here in the House, we recently were able to pass a very strong 
bipartisan piece of legislation sponsored by Dr. Tim Murphy, a member 
of the Energy and Commerce Committee, to do just that. We voted to give 
a much-needed upgrade to our mental health system and deliver real 
reforms that are going to make a difference for folks suffering with 
mental health illnesses.
  In July, it was advanced through our committee 53-0, and then on the 
House floor by a 422-2 vote. This landmark vote marks the most 
significant reform to our Nation's mental health programs in decades, 
and I was proud to shepherd this important piece of legislation and now 
work with the Senate to get it done.
  Suicide prevention is deeply personal to me. I don't talk about it 
often, but my uncle, my daughter's college roommate, and my son's dear 
girlfriend's sister all committed suicide. Those losses have left an 
indelible impression on my life.
  Suicide is not an issue that can linger in the shadows. We have got 
to confront it and the underlying issues behind it together.
  I include in the Record Kait's message of hope and inspiration. It 
can also be found on my Web site, upton.house.gov.

                          My (Survival) Story

     I tried to start writing my story, but all that became of it 
           was complicated comparisons and meaningless metaphors.
     I thought that's just what I had do, to connect with people.
     Tell some confusing story about a lion and a lamb, or a 
           turtle and a hare with some hidden cliche reworded 
           moral of a story, explaining how the inferior character 
           always wins in the end, and people would just get what 
           I was trying to say.
     But, you see, in reality, I didn't know which character I was 
           supposed to play and so I played someone different 
           every single day.
     You see it's hard to stand up for yourself, when you don't 
           even know who you are, and in school, if you didn't 
           define yourself, others had no problem doing it for 
           you.
     So my name tag read Kait, but the names people called me 
           sounded nothing like that.
     slut, queer, trash, worthless, nothing.
     I call them names, because that's what I became. At least in 
           my mind, so it kept me in line.
     for seven years in the hall I looked at the ground, I thought 
           people wouldn't kick me if I was already down.
     And if I didn't look up, I couldn't see the mirror, that way 
           you and I could both pretend I wasn't even there.
     And they decided that popcorn looked even better in my hair, 
           but when I hid in the bathroom stall during lunch, they 
           said I was throwing up my food.
     Which, I was.
     because I was too big, too small, too short, too tall, too 
           skinny, and too fat.
     I was big foot and man hands, with gorilla arm hair.
     I took up other people's air and might as well go die in a 
           hole because no one even wants me here.
     But that was okay, I didn't want to be here either.
     My mom still thinks I fractured my hand from catching it in 
           the door, but I had the locker slammed on it because if 
           you cry, that means you're asking for more.
     And I didn't know how to face her, or the fact that I was a 
           failure.
     And even though I just graduated, I still feel I owe her 
           apologies.
     for the messages everyday the principal left on her phone, 
           for the days she had to get me, because I couldn't 
           drive myself home, for the permanent art work on my 
           arms that wouldn't ever be hung on fridge, for always 
           playing too close to the ledge.
     Because I couldn't pass math, but I could calculate just how 
           many pills it took me to get sick without passing out 
           so I didn't have to go to school the next day.
     42.
     I'm sorry.
     Even once they were done with me, I felt like I owed them an 
           apology.
     Like they could hit me in the face, and I would apologize for 
           standing in the way of their hand.
     There were times I didn't believe I would be here today.
     But look at me now, look where I stand,
     Never did I realize that my own two hands had to the power to 
           control my life. or end it.
     My own principal, looked at me and said there was nothing he 
           could do, unless I was seriously hurt.
     Like to actually be noticed, I'd have to be dead in the dirt.
     Because he thought that even if I walked away crying, as long 
           as I was still alive and walking, it wasn't his 
           problem.
     His position of power told him he could decide when I was in 
           pain, but he wasn't the one who had to stand in the 
           rain.
     Look in my eyes, look at my arms, read my poetry, can you 
           still see me?
     I lost myself halfway between my current normalcy and my 
           makeshift reality.
     Drowning in a sea of ideas that unless I became just another 
           number in data about bullying, that I wouldn't actually 
           make a difference.
     because in a world where we focus on problems like gun 
           control, we over look the fact that people can cause 
           just as much damage with their words.
     An issue is defined as a topic that can be debated or 
           discussed, Like the ``issue'' I had with bullying was 
           something that could be compromised.
     Like my own life, was a thing that could be compromised.
     It's like if you see a lamb being slaughtered, you just let 
           it continue, because you too are a lamb, and it very 
           well could be you.
     I think in a way that's kind of the worlds view, like if i 
           don't change a number or a statistic. There's nothing I 
           actually went through.
     Tell me why no stories ever make the news, about being a 
           survivor of bullying.
     but if my story was told, after I was six feet under, it 
           would actually mean something.
     It doesn't take 50 cents a day, it literally costs nothing to 
           be a decent human being, or to simply treat each person 
           like they have some meaning.
     they say charity begins at home, but I think that's where the 
           love should start too because those that know hurt are 
           the ones that hurt you and my brothers and sisters who 
           have walked in my shoes, i'm sorry if it gave you 
           blisters for the longest time I tried to wear a pair 
           that didn't fit, when I tried to be a she, that wasn't 
           me.
     Bullying is not just a consequence, the effects I still live 
           with are alive and real, sometimes they are more real 
           than I feel.
     You can not push me under the rug because I am still here.
     I am not just another bullying story.
     And I am not just my bullying story.
     Put a name to my face and call me, survivor.

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