His mother suffered dark depressions and tried to dominate his life. His sister and daughter had severe mental problems, his father and wife died young and a beloved uncle committed suicide in his arms.

So what did Peter Mark Roget, the creator of Roget's Thesaurus, do to handle all the pain, grief, sorrow, affliction, woe, bitterness, unhappiness and misery in a life that lasted over 90 years?

He made lists.

I saw this story: http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20080328/lf_nm/books_roget_dc_2 on Yahoo News today and immediately recognized myself and my OCD in it.  I, too, used to make lists to get the clutter and dark thoughts out of my mind.  Though I doubt they'll ever amount to much other than, well, scraps of paper, look what good can come of lists!  I use Roget's Thesaurus daily!

As I was surfing the internet, I stumbled upon this article: http://www.newsweek.com/id/117749.  It was the top story on Newsweek.  Though not the prevailing message of the article, there was a definite underlying message about the "glamorization" of suicide and its victims.

Some highlights:

Since the start of 2007, a total of 17 young people in and around the played-out South Wales coal town--most of them teenagers--have killed themselves by hanging.

Each new suicide has inspired another memorial page on popular social-networking Web sites like Bebo. Natasha Randall, 17, posted a cheery tribute on Liam Clarke's memorial page on Jan. 15: "RIP Clarky boy!! gonna miss ya! Always remember the gd times!" Two days later she hanged herself.

The Internet is a recurring theme in the Bridgend hangings. Most and possibly all of the victims were members of the Bebo networking site, and many of them posted messages on the public memorial pages of those who preceded them in suicide.

Others in the prevention field agree that suicide can spread like a virus over the Internet. "These social-networking sites, especially ones that deal with young people, have a responsibility to police their sites that they're not always fulfilling," says Paul Kelly of Papyrus, a teen-suicide prevention group in the United Kingdom. "There is a danger of glorifying young people who have taken their own lives."

Still, there are Internet operators who take such fears seriously. The obituary Web site GoneTooSoon.co.uk removed all tributes to the Bridgend victims last week, replacing them with its apologies and an explanation. The site's founder, Terry George, says he wants to avoid any possibility of glamorizing the deaths. "If you commit suicide in the hope you'll be well-known afterwards, then it won't happen with us," he says. "We won't allow it. Something has to be done to stop these people taking their own lives." Bebo's approach has been less dogmatic. As recently as last Wednesday, Feb. 27, the site included memorial pages for Nathaniel Pritchard and Jenna Parry, as well as a group page called Bridgend Deaths with hundreds of members, most of them young people. Their commentary ranged from the sentimental ("Hope you're all happy up there") to the crude. placeAd2(commercialNode,'bigbox',false,'')

A shocking array of resources for would-be suicides is readily available on the Web. Some sites promote euthanasia for the elderly or terminally ill, while others are explicitly aimed at troubled young people. One such site, registered to an address in Amsterdam, hosts a discussion on the most effective way for a minor to commit suicide, with posts ranging from crude and humorous to instructive and practical. The site's moderator, who portrays himself as a defender of "freedom of speech on the subject of suicide," nevertheless admits he has no qualifications, medical or otherwise, for providing advice to would-be suicides. "I don't think 'psychological professionals' are the only ones who should deal with the subject," he told NEWSWEEK via e-mail.

As you can see, our reactions to suicide can CLEARLY influence others, no matter how well-intended those actions are.  It's great to remember the best in people once they have passed, but we have to be especially careful not to glamorize suicide. 

I myself have witnessed the outpourings of support at my own school following suicides: we wear homemade t-shirts, create memorial websites, have vigils, create Facebook/MySpace memorial groups, etc.  We try to prove the decedent wrong: they were loved and will be missed.

However, these actions can indeed be dangerous.  People who are depressed and/or suicidal want the same reassurance, that they are loved and will be missed.  Seeing that a person who has committed suicide has gained that reassurance, they may consider following in his or her footsteps.  It is irrational, but I am sure that many of us have been irrational when lost in our mental ills. 

I have tried to contact experts regarding the best way to memorialize suicide victims without glamorizing their actions, but they, too, are unsure of how to react in the "Internet Age."  Here are some media guidelines for reporting suicides that may be helpful in planning memorials: http://www.sprc.org/library/sreporting.pdf.

 I hope to have more on this issue in the future!

Bathroom-Disinfectant Ad Reinforces Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder

January 19, 2000 | Issue 36•01

WENATCHEE, WA–A TV commercial for Lysol Bathroom Disinfectant Spray sent OCD sufferer Janine Whittaker plunging even deeper into the disorder Monday. "Germs... germs everywhere," said Whittaker, furiously scrubbing her bathroom's new, already-gleaming shower tile with an industrial-strength ammonia-based cleanser after viewing the Lysol ad. "That commercial is right: Invisible germs and mildew lurk everywhere–in the tub, on the toilet, on the countertops, and in those hard-to-reach spots under the sink." Whittaker was hospitalized in March 1999 after watching a 30-second spot for Palmolive Anti-Bacterial Dishwashing Liquid.

Brought to you by TheOnion.com

When you spend the vast majority of your life being one person, it's hard to adjust to life as another. To make a long story short, I've had OCD for 10 years, nine of which without treatment. I also dealt with panic disorder and anorexia nervosa. Life without treatment was unbearable. My peers didn't understand. Truth be told, I don't even think they noticed. For six hours a day I lived a lie; I laughed and smiled while inside I felt like screaming. The only real conflicts my OCD caused during my early years were between myself and adults.

To my teachers, I was the problem child. I was the one who ran out of the classroom screaming every other hour and couldn't sit still. I was the one who kept re-asking questions and cried every day. There are two situations in particular that stand out in my mind. Once, in kindergarten, after upsetting my teacher with my compulsions, she proceeded to tell me that I was useless and didn't deserve oxygen. I know she didn't mean anything by it, but her words always stuck with me. I've spent my life trying to prove her wrong, though at times I felt I'd proved her right.

In fourth grade, I once nearly got suspended for running out of the classroom screaming six times in three hours. I didn't know at the time, but I was having repeated panic attacks. I would always run to the nurse, because, call me crazy, but I always felt safest in bathrooms, and the bathroom in the nurse's office, I figured, must have been cleaned and disinfected many times a day. When I ran to the nurse's office the sixth time that day, my teacher ran after me, threatened me, and then argued with the nurse for a half hour over whose job it was to "deal" with me. It was as if they forgot I was there. Don't get me wrong; I know they didn't know any better. To them, I was just an undisciplined child beyond help.

My first "treatment" came in second grade. My teacher was a Sister who was training to teach at a school for the blind. She had more patience than anyone I have ever known. When she saw I was struggling, she referred me to the school counselor. Every Wednesday during gym class, I met with the social worker in the janitor's closet. Ironic, isn't it, a germophobic seven-year-old being treated in a janitor's closet. I think I was the only person the counselor ever saw at my school. She left a year later.

I don't remember much about my childhood. In my mind I can only call brief scenes of terror. I remember waking up every day wishing that I could just be saved. That's all I wanted. It sounds selfish now, but that was the only thing I prayed for at night.

As a child, I was a germophobe, checker, prayer, and repeater. When I got older, I became a studier, memorizer, and checker. All of a sudden, I found that I was no longer the problem child to my teachers. My parents, to be honest, either didn't notice or didn't want to notice that there was anything different about me. My grades, to them, were a sign of my improvement. They saw the end result, not the hours of checking and studying and rewriting and worrying and doing anything to avoid imperfection.

Once, in seventh grade, I came across OCD on the internet while researching a project for school. I showed the article to my mother and asked her if that was why I was "different." She replied that she guessed she forgot to tell me that I caught OCD when I was little, but it was gone now. I wasn't satisfied.

Now, three years later, after hitting rock bottom, I am finally getting help. One night, I just broke down and begged my mom to find someone to help me. Now, I feel like I'm deconstructing my life and rebuilding a new, better one. It's a battle that's nowhere near over. I'm not sure if it ever ends. Either way, my life now is better than I ever thought it could be.

The first time I visited a psychiatrist, he asked me if I ever thought of dying. I told him I assumed I'd have died already. He seemed shocked. He asked me to clarify what I meant. I told him that if God had made me this way, I just assumed --. I stopped there, because I realized that I didn't know what I had assumed. I just never imagined living trapped inside my mind for long. Now I can, and I will.