REDUCING THE SUICIDE STIGMA Suresh Unni’s Story

There are many ways of coping with the loss of a loved one. For Suresh Unni, solace is found in sharing his brother’s experience with depression and eventual demise from suicide. Through his work as a clinical social worker and therapist and participation on the board of directors of the Asian American Suicide Prevention Initiative, Unni hopes to illuminate the fact that suicide is a salient issue within the Asian American community and work to prevent future suicides. Unni recalls the incidents preceeding his brother’s suicide, including the passing of a close friend and his experience as a victim of a racial hate crime in Boston. It is through telling stories like these that the Asian American community can work to reduce the stigma surrounding suicide and work to create culturally competent care.

REDUCING THE SUICIDE

STIGMA: Suresh Unni’s Story

By Suresh Unni

Febuary/March 2010 CONDUCIVE

My name is Suresh Unni and this is the story about my experience losing my brother, Santosh “Dosh” Unni, to suicide.

My parents came to the U.S from India in 1970 as my father was an aspiring physician and came to America in search of opportunity and prosperity. He had three sons. My brother, Ramesh, was born in 1972. On November of 1973, I was born. On August 13^th 1976, Dosh was born.

Growing up, Ramesh and I were exposed to the Indian culture and Hindu religion more than Dosh. We grew up in Northwest Indiana with among few Indian families and we socialized often with our white friends. However, the handful of Indian families was tightly knit and we met on a weekly basis to study the Bhagavad Gita and other sacred Hindu texts. Ramesh and I found these mythological stories exciting as they were filled with war heroes and parables of morality. However, religion did not excite Dosh and, being the third child, Indian culture and traditions were not instilled in him as much as with Ramesh and I.

Dosh was laid-back with a good nature. He was never drawn into social justice, religion, or political discussions. He hung out with his friends and liked having a good time. His charismatic energy drew others to him and made him very popular. But then when real-life suffering occurred, he often retreated into himself and would not talk about his feelings. Our mother was concerned that Dosh was not open with his feelings as much as Ramesh and I.

In March of 1996, Dosh’s best friend died in a car accident. Dosh was devastated. I believe this was the event triggering his depression. I never saw Dosh shed a tear even though we all knew his stoic demeanor masked his intolerable emotional pain. That summer, Dosh went to Boston to spend some time with his best friend’s brother. Apart from his best friend that died, Dosh did not have many close Indian friends. However, in Boston he found a whole new group of Indian peers and got in touch with his cultural identity. Although this was a very valuable developmental experience, it was later to be a major source of trauma.

One night in Boston, Dosh and his friends went out to the clubs. But, Dosh left the club by himself and walked into an unfamiliar bar in the neighborhood. What he did not know was that this bar was not known for its racial diversity and on this night the racial bigots were out. Dosh quickly realized and walked out of a bar where it was dangerous to be an Indian alone. Three white men followed him out and physically assaulted him. Needless to say, this was an attack on Dosh’s racial and cultural identity and Dosh, who went to Boston to recover from his best friend’s death, plummeted further into a depression.

Dosh came home that fall of 1996 and attended Indiana University in Bloomington, Indiana. One day, Dosh called home. He said he was depressed and did not know what was happening to him. My older brother Ramesh was in medical school in Indianapolis, Indianaan and went to pick up Dosh to take him back with him. I picked up Dosh from Indianapolis and brought him home to Northwest Indiana. Seeing Dosh in mental and emotional pain was difficult. Because I had gone through a bout of depression myself a couple of years earlier, I sympathized with his pain, but I was unaware of the depth of his despair.

Dosh had a difficult time accepting that he had a mental illness requiring treatment.

We took Dosh to a psychiatrist who prescribed him an anti-depressant. He saw it as a character weakness and was ashamed. One night, Dosh read a suicide note to me that he wrote while in Bloomington. I cried to Dosh that night letting him know the enormity of the pain his death would cause me and the rest of our family. Together that night we burned that note and I thought that writing the note was his depression hitting bottom.

Dosh was still very depressed and did not leave the house much since he had been home. On December 2^nd, 1996, Dosh asked me to lunch. This was his way of saying goodbye to me. I was commuting to Loyola University from home and had to leave to class afterwards. We were supposed to meet-up with our family later that night at my uncle’s house in Oak Park. After my class was done, I went out to eat with a friend and was planning to head to my uncle’s house. When we returned to my friend’s apartment there were several messages from my father. As we were listening to these messages my father called again. My friend talked to him briefly and hung-up saying he had to take me home. I asked him what happened and he could not tell me. I called back home and my dad said they went to my uncle’s house and when they returned they found Dosh in the broiler room downstairs. He had hung himself. My mother got on the phone and cried saying “we lost him.” I have never experienced such an emotional shock in my life and I hope I never will again.

Dosh did not leave a suicide note, so we were unaware of what he felt during those last moments of his life. I believe he thought he was causing us more pain by being alive than by taking his own life. Some questions will never be answered. The two weeks after his death were a blur. The only way our family could get through it was due to the support of family, friends, and the loving care of a Higher Power. I wrote in my journal and letters to Dosh as a way to cope. I saw a therapist and therapy became an invaluable tool for me to cope with this loss.

After a couple of years, I found opportunities to make Dosh’s life meaningful. A close family friend put me in touch with Dr. Aruna Jha who had been researching suicide in the Indian community for some time. She heard of Dosh’s suicide. In 2002, she gave me an opportunity to share Dosh’s story at a conference in Washington, D.C.

Since then I have told Dosh’s story often and have found that sharing my experience about losing a loved one to suicide has created meaning for my own life and has hopefully helped others who have also lost a loved one.

In 2004, the Asian American Suicide Prevention Initiative (AASPI) was created to further the cause of suicide prevention and awareness.

I now serve on the board of directors. My family has joined the effort as well and we have forged even stronger relationships with one another and with Dosh’s friends. We allow one another to experience our grief knowing there will be someone to lean on. Some of Dosh’s childhood friends also started an annual 3-on-3 basketball fundraiser tournament on the same driveway we all grew up playing. Dosh’s life and death will forever in some form shape my life and who I am. It is imperative that I am able to use my experience to help prevent suicide and help other survivors live through their suffering.

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