by April Scheinoha
Reporter
Renee Rongen doesn’t want the public to describe mental health as “mental health.”
“It’s such a stigma. I mean, isn’t it health?” she said.
Renee spoke at a mental health and suicide awareness event Wednesday, Sept. 1 at the Pennington County Fairgrounds in Thief River Falls. The HOPE Coalition, NW8 Local Advisory Council and NW8 Adult Mental Health Initiative hosted the event.
Renee compared the brain to a vehicle engine that may misfire and the rest of the vehicle won’t move. In those instances, the owner, or in this case the person, needs help.
Seven years ago, Renee started going down a slippery slope. Her struggles reached a head in September 2016. She had been hiding a secret for the majority of her life, and she and her husband, Tom, were becoming empty-nesters. Those factors converged to create a mind in which, Renee recalled, there were dead-end roads that she couldn’t escape.
Renee began drinking Corona beer on a regular basis to quiet the loud noise in her head, so she could sleep. “Corona became my very best friend,” she said. “I started by having five beers, six beers, seven, eight – you know – until I could fall asleep.”
That evening, Renee consumed 15 Corona beers to numb the noise. She climbed into bed at 2 a.m. Tom immediately got out of bed and said he was leaving. He had no idea what was happening with his wife since she wouldn’t tell him. “I love you too much to watch you do this to yourself,” Renee recalled him saying.
A drunk Renee said, “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.”
Renee cried for five hours straight. She then looked outside of her Fertile home, trying to determine which tree would hold her weight. She gathered a ladder and some ropes. Renee climbed the ladder, feeling euphoric that she would finally be rid of the loud noise in her head. God intervened. Renee heard God asking her why she wouldn’t live for her kids when she would die for them.
Renee climbed down the ladder and threw the ropes in the garbage. A sanitation worker arrived 10 minutes later to pick up the garbage. He normally arrives on a Thursday, but, in what can be described as a God moment, he arrived that Tuesday to pick up Renee and Tom’s trash.
Renee realized she needed help with her alcohol problem. She decided to attend a support group for people experiencing issues with alcohol in Grand Forks, N.D. Renee felt she wouldn’t see anyone she knew there.
After she arrived, Renee stood beside her car and heaved. A fellow attendee saw what was happening and provided the constant encouragement she needed to enter the building. He also wiped the puke off of her face.
Two days later, Renee and Tom were unable to talk to one another without crying about what had happened. It was 1 a.m. when Renee was sitting crosslegged on her floor and busy organizing things. A door opened. Their three kids had driven overnight to be with her. Renee tried telling them that she was fine and asked what Tom had told them. He had told their children everything.
Her kids were there for her. Renee’s son told her that she taught them to walk beside, not behind or in front, of others. Her kids had a slumber party with her in her bedroom for five days, and they went to her support group meetings every day.
“I needed to heal a little girl, and I am grateful, you know, I stepped off that ladder because things could be so much different,” Renee said.
Renee has worked through her pain with therapy and medication. “Your truth is messy, and messy is good,” she said. “It’s OK to be messy.”
Renee encouraged attendees to “stand in the gap” and demonstrate a new Minnesota nice. She urged them to ask how people are really doing, especially when it seems like things may be a bit much for them.
A person may feel like she needs to go on a mission trip to another country to “stand in the gap.” “Guess what?” asked Renee. “We have a mission field in our own backyard.”
Rongen was joined by Tim Eggebraaten, a former Detroit Lakes police chief who shared his story involving the impact of a friend’s suicide on his own mental health.
On Mother’s Day 2012, Tim was performing with fellow musicians at a Detroit Lakes senior living center. His cell phone was blowing up. He soon found out why. People were looking for his friend and fellow police officer, Chad Jutz. A short time later, another police officer called Tim, telling his boss that they had found Chad dead.
Tim drove to the scene in rural Detroit Lakes. Upon seeing the note taped on the side of the window, he knew. Later, Tim was in his squad car with Chad’s dad, a man who had just lost his oldest child and only son. Tim looked down at his laptop computer, thinking it would be nice if there were a checklist on what someone should do when one of his best friends and partners of 19 years dies by suicide.
A month later, Tim found himself on the phone with another officer. The officer wanted to end his life. After arriving at the home, Tim heard a scream and a gunshot. “Luckily, he didn’t take his own life,” said Tim. “I got to him, got him the help he needed.”
Tim was having a hard time processing those two events. As he tried to relax by taking a bath, he would imagine the bathtub was full of blood. “I thought I was losing my mind,” said Tim, who didn’t tell anyone what he was imagining.
That fall, Minnesota police chiefs gathered in Detroit Lakes for a conference. While attending the conference, a fellow police chief asked a chaplain to speak with Tim. The friend didn’t think he was processing things well.
The chaplain asked Tim how he was doing. “In theory, it was probably a simple, but not easy, task,” said Tim, who noted people sometimes don’t want to hear how someone is really feeling.
The chaplain suggested that Tim speak with a psychologist based elsewhere. He gave the man’s phone number to Tim, who sat on the information for a few weeks and instead decided to seek help from a psychologist in Detroit Lakes. That’s not to say he didn’t second-guess his decision multiple times before he finally met with the psychologist.
The psychologist helped Tim see what was happening. He explained to Tim that the brain handles trauma like a hopper with a funnel on the end. “In my 20 years in law enforcement, my hopper was full and Chad’s death stuffed it too far,” said Tim. “It was bubbling over, bubbling over where I couldn’t shut it off.”
Tim appreciated the help provided by his friend, who got the ball rolling to help him process the trauma he experienced. He encouraged others to stand in the gap like his friend and the chaplain.
Tim and Renee aren’t alone. Miranda Solem, who works at Sanford Behavioral Health, said one in five adults in the United States experience mental health symptoms each year. That number is one in six for youth in the United States.
The HOPE Coalition is trying to help those experiencing such symptoms. HOPE stands for Help, Outreach, Prevention and Education. “Our goal, as a coalition, is to make sure that there are zero suicide deaths in our region and actually anywhere,” said Shauna Reitmeier, HOPE Coalition chairperson.
Mental health services and a crisis line are available for those who need support. The crisis line is available 24 hours a day, seven days a week by calling 1-800-282-5005 or texting MN to 741741. It serves Pennington, Kittson, Mahnomen, Marshall, Norman, Polk, Red Lake and Roseau counties.
Reitmeier said, “You are not alone.”