 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| Power Style Wellness Connections |
A Journey to Save Lives
By Cheryl Stuck
No one told Jan Ulrich about youth suicide, so
when her 20-year-old son, Nathan Eisert, took his
own life, she had no idea that in Kentucky, suicide is
the second leading cause of death for 15- to 34-
year-olds. The day after Nathan was found, dead in
his dorm room from a gunshot wound, she learned
that every 17 seconds someone in the U.S. takes
his or her own life.
“When you’re a parent, you think of all the things you talk to your kids about
— to look both ways before you cross the street, to always wear a seatbelt,
don’t smoke, don’t do drugs, but I didn’t know about this,” Jan said.
As a freshman, Nathan was an honor roll student at Western Kentucky
University, and a crowd favorite walk-on for the WKU Hilltoppers basketball
team. The following summer, the same night he was granted a basketball
scholarship, he badly injured his ankle for a second time. The doctor
predicted it would take a year to heal, so Nathan sat on the sidelines.
In May 2002, Nathan was released from the basketball team and lost his
scholarship — but no one told Jan. So when he came home for his birthday at
the end of the month, she served his cake on basketball paper plates and
napkins. A couple of weeks later, Nathan and his girlfriend had an argument
and he went back to school alone — but Jan didn’t know. On that following
Monday, Nathan’s father, who lived in Bowling Green, became concerned
because he hadn’t shown up for scheduled activities. Jan wasn’t alarmed until
her ex-husband told her about Nathan being released from the basketball
team. “It was at that moment that my heart stopped.”
At the funeral, Jan looked at all the strong, healthy kids in the church,
mourning Nathan. “He was the last person in the world that anyone ever
thought would take his life.” Jan told the kids, “There is nothing in the world
that you can do that your parents can’t forgive you for. If you feel like you’re a
burden to your family, I want you to picture your mother having to walk
through a room filled with coffins and the funeral director saying, ‘Which one
do you like the best? This one with the light grain or the dark-grained wood?
The one with all the padding in it?’ So, if you have a friend who is hurting so
badly, reach out and offer them a hand, but if you’re the person…and you
think this is the answer, I beg you to ask for help.”
Several months later, Jan learned that her speech at the funeral had saved at
least two lives. Jan quickly joined a suicide prevention group. Thirty days
after Nathan’s death, Jan and her husband, Stephen Ulrich, spoke to
senators and representatives on Capitol Hill.
A few months after Nathan’s death, Jan was driving home, crying and listening
to sad music when she saw an oncoming car and heard a voice say, “Drive
into that car.” She didn’t respond, but another car appeared and the voice
said, “You’ve got another chance, drive into it.” When she got into her house,
the reality of her own suicidal thoughts shocked her. “Oh my gosh, that fast
— it happens that fast,” Jan said, suddenly understanding Nathan’s impulse.
“At that moment he had blinders on. In those brief seconds, or minute, or
however long it lasted, I couldn’t see anything other than the pain I was
feeling.”
Jan and Stephen spoke to various groups about their experience. “We came
to see that our little voices can make a difference. It continued to fuel me.
When I may not have gotten out of bed to do anything else, when I couldn’t
remember if I brushed my teeth or my hair, or even if I was wearing two
different color shoes, I was still driven to bring awareness.”
Early this year, Jan was hired as a youth suicide prevention marketing
specialist for the Kentucky Department of Mental Health and Mental
Retardation Services in Frankfort, Ky. Fighting the battle to prevent suicide
has become Jan’s passion and purpose in life and has changed her. “I used
to be very passive, and now, when I run into a wall, if it’s something I really
believe in, I’m not going to let anything get in my way. I’m going to tunnel
under it, climb over it, or knock it down.”
To hear Jan Ulrich’s song Tell Them, Momma, watch her video for athletes, or
find more information about suicide, go to www.tellthemmomma.com.
If you or someone you know needs help, call: 1-800-Suicide (800-784-2433)
or 1-800-273-talk (800-273-8255).
By Cheryl Stuck
No one told Jan Ulrich about youth suicide, so
when her 20-year-old son, Nathan Eisert, took his
own life, she had no idea that in Kentucky, suicide is
the second leading cause of death for 15- to 34-
year-olds. The day after Nathan was found, dead in
his dorm room from a gunshot wound, she learned
that every 17 seconds someone in the U.S. takes
his or her own life.
“When you’re a parent, you think of all the things you talk to your kids about
— to look both ways before you cross the street, to always wear a seatbelt,
don’t smoke, don’t do drugs, but I didn’t know about this,” Jan said.
As a freshman, Nathan was an honor roll student at Western Kentucky
University, and a crowd favorite walk-on for the WKU Hilltoppers basketball
team. The following summer, the same night he was granted a basketball
scholarship, he badly injured his ankle for a second time. The doctor
predicted it would take a year to heal, so Nathan sat on the sidelines.
In May 2002, Nathan was released from the basketball team and lost his
scholarship — but no one told Jan. So when he came home for his birthday at
the end of the month, she served his cake on basketball paper plates and
napkins. A couple of weeks later, Nathan and his girlfriend had an argument
and he went back to school alone — but Jan didn’t know. On that following
Monday, Nathan’s father, who lived in Bowling Green, became concerned
because he hadn’t shown up for scheduled activities. Jan wasn’t alarmed until
her ex-husband told her about Nathan being released from the basketball
team. “It was at that moment that my heart stopped.”
At the funeral, Jan looked at all the strong, healthy kids in the church,
mourning Nathan. “He was the last person in the world that anyone ever
thought would take his life.” Jan told the kids, “There is nothing in the world
that you can do that your parents can’t forgive you for. If you feel like you’re a
burden to your family, I want you to picture your mother having to walk
through a room filled with coffins and the funeral director saying, ‘Which one
do you like the best? This one with the light grain or the dark-grained wood?
The one with all the padding in it?’ So, if you have a friend who is hurting so
badly, reach out and offer them a hand, but if you’re the person…and you
think this is the answer, I beg you to ask for help.”
Several months later, Jan learned that her speech at the funeral had saved at
least two lives. Jan quickly joined a suicide prevention group. Thirty days
after Nathan’s death, Jan and her husband, Stephen Ulrich, spoke to
senators and representatives on Capitol Hill.
A few months after Nathan’s death, Jan was driving home, crying and listening
to sad music when she saw an oncoming car and heard a voice say, “Drive
into that car.” She didn’t respond, but another car appeared and the voice
said, “You’ve got another chance, drive into it.” When she got into her house,
the reality of her own suicidal thoughts shocked her. “Oh my gosh, that fast
— it happens that fast,” Jan said, suddenly understanding Nathan’s impulse.
“At that moment he had blinders on. In those brief seconds, or minute, or
however long it lasted, I couldn’t see anything other than the pain I was
feeling.”
Jan and Stephen spoke to various groups about their experience. “We came
to see that our little voices can make a difference. It continued to fuel me.
When I may not have gotten out of bed to do anything else, when I couldn’t
remember if I brushed my teeth or my hair, or even if I was wearing two
different color shoes, I was still driven to bring awareness.”
Early this year, Jan was hired as a youth suicide prevention marketing
specialist for the Kentucky Department of Mental Health and Mental
Retardation Services in Frankfort, Ky. Fighting the battle to prevent suicide
has become Jan’s passion and purpose in life and has changed her. “I used
to be very passive, and now, when I run into a wall, if it’s something I really
believe in, I’m not going to let anything get in my way. I’m going to tunnel
under it, climb over it, or knock it down.”
To hear Jan Ulrich’s song Tell Them, Momma, watch her video for athletes, or
find more information about suicide, go to www.tellthemmomma.com.
If you or someone you know needs help, call: 1-800-Suicide (800-784-2433)
or 1-800-273-talk (800-273-8255).