Seven years ago today, one of my Battle buddies, Ann TK Timm, killed herself. I've been struggling to write this because it's not my story to tell without making it all about me, but this is about how I failed as a friend and what I would have done differently if I could bring her back.
There was a small crew of us that finished AIT and joined the 452 A Co. from about 2005 to 2007 and we had a few great years together before we all started to transfer or promote out, leave the Army, and move on with our lives. We were THE Battles of the 452. We kept in touch, most of us still do, and TK was absolutely one of us.
She was hilarious. The first time I met her was in the middle of my 2nd pregnancy. My kids are only 15 months apart, so she came up to me and said "Hey, Preggo, have you seriously been knocked up for like 2 years? Aren't you scared you're going to pop out a toddler or something?" I couldn't tell if she was serious, her deadpan sarcasm hadn't become my favorite thing yet. She called me Preggo until my youngest started Kindergarten. But that ridiculous comment made me want to hang out w her more, so she became a Battle and joined our little group. She had a huge smile, but you almost never caught it because she was either looking at people like they were a dumbass or making a funny face for the camera. She perfectly walked the line of supporting our ridiculous ideas and staying out of trouble.
Then there came a time where she crossed the lines. She was making destructive choices, she was drunk or high whenever I saw her. She still laughed, but her jokes weren't funny, they were sad or dark. One of my last memories w her was at a kids' birthday party when she brought some junkie boyfriend and left her kids and husband at home. She wasn't herself and none of us knew what to do. We all had our own babies and husbands and lives, we had slowed down the drinking and partying, while she was ramping up. We talked about her and would debate if we should invite her to nights out or any more kids birthday parties. I can't speak for all the Battles, but I was scared of her when maybe I should have been scared FOR her.
The night she died, October 13/14, 2012, four of us were out getting tattoos together, celebrating the last drill weekend of one of the other battles. We had invited her to come, but didn't hear back. We didn't push it to make her get out. We had no idea where she was or what state of mind she was in.
The morning after, I was in my new unit. Some of the battles were still around, but TK had already been out. Since the golden years, she had married an Officer and had some babies. Her youngest was maybe a year old. At drill that Saturday morning, my DET Sergeant pulled me into her office, tears in her eyes. She said she would be leaving early because her friend, the Officer, had called and his wife was dead. He found her in the mud room of their new-ish condo. He thought he had cleared the house, but she found an old hunting rifle in the garage. My DET Sergeant said she wasn't sure, but she was told I was friends w the wife and she wanted to tell me in person and to let me leave if I wanted to. I was the first of the battles to know, and it became my job to tell the rest. I went home and cried and started the calls to the others.
All of us attended the funeral. There, we pieced together the puzzle of what her last months were like. She had attempted recently. She was having substance abuse issues. Marital issues. Postpartum issues. Each thing alone was not great, but all of it together was crushing, and they all interwove more than any of us realized. She had tried to get help, others forced her into help, and ultimately, it was a tiny window where she was left alone and determined to kill herself. None of us knew it was that bad. Any of us would have helped her if we knew.
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So if I could go back, if YOU have a self-destructive friend right now, love them through it.
She was hilarious. The first time I met her was in the middle of my 2nd pregnancy. My kids are only 15 months apart, so she came up to me and said "Hey, Preggo, have you seriously been knocked up for like 2 years? Aren't you scared you're going to pop out a toddler or something?" I couldn't tell if she was serious, her deadpan sarcasm hadn't become my favorite thing yet. She called me Preggo until my youngest started Kindergarten. But that ridiculous comment made me want to hang out w her more, so she became a Battle and joined our little group. She had a huge smile, but you almost never caught it because she was either looking at people like they were a dumbass or making a funny face for the camera. She perfectly walked the line of supporting our ridiculous ideas and staying out of trouble.
Then there came a time where she crossed the lines. She was making destructive choices, she was drunk or high whenever I saw her. She still laughed, but her jokes weren't funny, they were sad or dark. One of my last memories w her was at a kids' birthday party when she brought some junkie boyfriend and left her kids and husband at home. She wasn't herself and none of us knew what to do. We all had our own babies and husbands and lives, we had slowed down the drinking and partying, while she was ramping up. We talked about her and would debate if we should invite her to nights out or any more kids birthday parties. I can't speak for all the Battles, but I was scared of her when maybe I should have been scared FOR her.
The night she died, October 13/14, 2012, four of us were out getting tattoos together, celebrating the last drill weekend of one of the other battles. We had invited her to come, but didn't hear back. We didn't push it to make her get out. We had no idea where she was or what state of mind she was in.
The morning after, I was in my new unit. Some of the battles were still around, but TK had already been out. Since the golden years, she had married an Officer and had some babies. Her youngest was maybe a year old. At drill that Saturday morning, my DET Sergeant pulled me into her office, tears in her eyes. She said she would be leaving early because her friend, the Officer, had called and his wife was dead. He found her in the mud room of their new-ish condo. He thought he had cleared the house, but she found an old hunting rifle in the garage. My DET Sergeant said she wasn't sure, but she was told I was friends w the wife and she wanted to tell me in person and to let me leave if I wanted to. I was the first of the battles to know, and it became my job to tell the rest. I went home and cried and started the calls to the others.
All of us attended the funeral. There, we pieced together the puzzle of what her last months were like. She had attempted recently. She was having substance abuse issues. Marital issues. Postpartum issues. Each thing alone was not great, but all of it together was crushing, and they all interwove more than any of us realized. She had tried to get help, others forced her into help, and ultimately, it was a tiny window where she was left alone and determined to kill herself. None of us knew it was that bad. Any of us would have helped her if we knew.
--
So if I could go back, if YOU have a self-destructive friend right now, love them through it.
When they get inappropriately drunk, don't write them off, check on them and confront them with love and concern and tell them they're not hiding it as well as they think they are.
If they're ending their marriage, leaving their kids, don't be scared to ask if they're ok. I was struggling in my own marriage, I felt like I couldn't handle the stress of helping another one, but I knew people who could. And I could have at least commiserated if nothing else.
If your friend is struggling w finances, help them out of it. Buy them groceries or pay a bill if you can afford it, help them budget or suggest some discount shortcuts you use if you can't.
Postpartum is a monster, suggest counseling, offer to babysit, but most importantly, love without shame and without judgement. It's easier said than done. When you can't IMAGINE abandoning your kids to go party with some trashy new guy, try to imagine what state of mind you would have to be in to get there.
The best thing you can do for someone in that space is to give them hope. Plan a trip, talk about the future, tell them it's a season and even though the days with a baby are long, the years with your children are short. Tell them about the end and what they can do on the other side of the problems. It helped me when I felt like she must have, I think if I were a little braver and knew what I know now, it could have helped TK.
Since then, I stop and see her about once a year. Sometimes on Veterans Day, sometimes her birthday, sometimes just a random sunny day when I want to sit on the grass and talk. I learned years ago after visiting my friend at Ft. Snelling National Cemetary that military gravestones are a huggable size. You can get your arms around easily and pretend it's your head on their shoulder and that everything is alright. Some days it helps me, maybe it can help you.
The best thing you can do for someone in that space is to give them hope. Plan a trip, talk about the future, tell them it's a season and even though the days with a baby are long, the years with your children are short. Tell them about the end and what they can do on the other side of the problems. It helped me when I felt like she must have, I think if I were a little braver and knew what I know now, it could have helped TK.
Since then, I stop and see her about once a year. Sometimes on Veterans Day, sometimes her birthday, sometimes just a random sunny day when I want to sit on the grass and talk. I learned years ago after visiting my friend at Ft. Snelling National Cemetary that military gravestones are a huggable size. You can get your arms around easily and pretend it's your head on their shoulder and that everything is alright. Some days it helps me, maybe it can help you.
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