“When my son was 22, he attempted to take his life. And in the next eight years he did try again, four times total. And the last time he succeeded.”
The story of Ester Leutenberg and her transition into becoming an author starts with a tragedy, yes, but there is still a positive side to the tale. Although a horrible event shook the foundation of her family, from that situation arose a powerful gift that has helped people around the world, including Ester. Hers is not just a story about grief, it’s one about healing and understanding, as well as honoring the memory of a person she loves so much.
This isn’t the story of Ester Leutenberg, it’s the story of Mitchell.
The Backstory
Ester Leutenberg has known her husband Jay since they were both just teenagers. Although they dated off and on, one particular incident cemented their relationship forever. “It was an AZA chapter splash party, and I had broken up with Jay. We had been going together since we were 14. I was maybe 15, and we broke up, and I went with his best friend. I couldn’t swim, so they pushed me into the pool. I was very, very, very shy. And so I went down once and came up and I never said help. I went down a second time, and I came up, and I still didn’t cry for help because I didn’t want to call attention to myself. And then I went down a third time and I knew I didn’t have the strength.”
Drowning in the pool, unable to save herself, she sank as her long red hair floated across the top of the water. Jay, her ex-boyfriend, saw this from across the pool and scooped her out of the pool, saving her from what seemed to be a watery grave. “So what happened from that?” Ester asks rhetorically. “What happened from that is that I decided I’d go back steady with him because I’ll be taken care of for the rest of my life.” Today, Jay’s still taking care of Ester.
The couple would go on to have four children together: Mitchell, Kathy, Lynn and Amy. Jay and Ester would enter the graphic design business, running their own print shop and facility, which did pretty well over the years. The family grew up, the kids starting getting jobs and having families of their own, and life, as they say, was good.
But what they didn’t know was that their son Mitchell was hiding a secret, one that would eventually claim his life.
Hiding in the Shadows
Today, it’s hard to hide from depression and other mental illnesses. Commercials flash across our televisions every night talking about which pills to take to make this pain go away or to control any function of our body. Being bipolar is openly discussed everywhere from coffee shops to airports, and because of the Internet, we can find whatever we need to get help whenever we want.
Mitchell Leutenberg was not so fortunate. Born in the ’50s, Mitchell lived in a different world. As he suffered through the late ’70s and into the ’80s, he tried to manage his symptoms on his own. “He could not talk about his feelings, he could not talk about his emotions,” says Ester. “He was very much inside of himself. The stigma of mental illness was prevalent.”
For eight years he suffered with mental illness, a struggle that was kept private because of the time in which he lived. Ester knew, and as a strong Jewish mother, she worried on a constant basis that each day was going to be the last. Mitchell knew how she felt, and did his best to quell her fears. “On Saturday and Sunday, he would always make sure he called for some reason,” Ester explains. “Silly reasons. ‘Tell Dad the football game is on.’ Dad knew the football game was on. But what he was saying to me is, ‘I’m still alive.’”
During that time, no one outside of his family knew of his struggles. “He ran a business, he worked at our temple. He volunteered at the temple and taught kids,” says Ester. “He was one of the first computer people, and he always had to have a new computer, so every time he had a new computer he would take the old computer and give it to the temple.”
As a person actively involved in the community, he didn’t want people to think less of him — the shame would have become unbearable. “He said to me that if anybody found out that he had a mental illness he’d have to move to another state,” Ester says. “And I don’t think he meant it as a threat, I think he meant that that’s what he would have to do.” Instead of taking the time to talk to a professional about his issues, he kept it to himself, and made sure the family did the same. “He asked me to promise not to tell anybody that he had a mental illness. And I didn’t.”
Instead, Ester decided to go on the offensive and try to learn everything she could to help her son. “I started reading everything that I could read, and I made appointments with psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, therapists. I’d pay for these appointments, for them to tell me how I could help Mitchell.”
For a time, she did. And her constant battle to make sure Mitchell was in a good place helped for a little while. But eventually, it was all too much for him to bear.
In 1986, Mitchell succumbed to the pain and took his own life. He was just 30 years old.
Triumph From Tragedy
The news hit the family like a ton of bricks, and the remaining members each reacted in their own way. Lynn went back to work two days after Mitchell died because she needed to get away from the recent events the best way she knew how. Amy was going to school at the time, and she dropped out to seek help with her grief. Jay acted as many men do in these situations, and stayed as strong as possible. But Kathy and Ester did something a little bit different. They decided to give back.
Kathy was a rehab occupational therapist, and after Mitchell passed, she switched her focus to becoming a psych occupational therapist. Her work with groups of people who had mental illnesses taught her that handing out pamphlets and doing activity books can help those participating, maybe even allow them to open up. That’s when Ester got involved. “Because we had a graphic arts business, [Kathy] was brought up with the fact that if things look graphically terrific, people are going to be more willing to participate in them, rather than saying how they are feeling.” Since Ester had done so much research on the subject because of Mitchell, she started to work on a book of activity handouts that Kathy could use in her classes. Ester began writing, and a new mission was born: create reproducible activity handouts designed for facilitators to help people with mental health issues. Her youngest daughter, Amy, produced the illustrations for the books. It was a real family affair.
These aren’t Danielle Steele novels, nor are they cheap pamphlets that anyone could make. What Ester started to do was work with professionals in the field who had a technical knowledge of what the problems were and how to work them out. Then she would add in her own knowledge, tweak things around appropriately and the pair would create a book. Her plan was never to write more than one book, it was just a way to help her get through the pain of Mitchell’s death, and help others in the process. That was it.
This was 1987, and before the Internet became the ubiquitous thing that it is today. Ester knew she wanted to get these books published, but there was a problem. “No one up to that time had had reproducible handouts,” says Ester. “Why would they have? Because they want to sell one book for every person.”
Ester wanted to create books that could be photocopied easily by people in the mental health field. “We didn’t give a damn about selling books and we didn’t give a damn about making money,” she describes. “All we cared about was getting the word out and helping people.” The problem was that no one was going to publish a book that wasn’t going to make any money, and self-publishing was still a novel concept. But Jay had an idea. “My husband said, ‘Look, we’re in the graphic arts business, we can set up the book. We do work for printers, we can have one of our printers print the book.’” And that’s exactly what they did.
Soon, Ester found herself working two jobs — working with their graphic design company to handle the daily tasks, and learning everything she could about printing her own books. “I didn’t know what an ISBN number was, you know.” But soon she would, and about a year after Mitchell passed, the book hit the market with the inscription, “Dedicated to Mitchell Leutenberg, whose life made a difference.” And it really did.
The Transition
Ester’s life since Mitchell passed away has been focused on helping others get the help they need. She’s now written more than 50 books, and has plans to keep writing for the rest of her life. “I want to hit 100. I always say I’m going to be 95 years old and sitting and pecking on my computer. But I intend to keep going. Right now I have maybe 10 contracts out for books.”
Jay and Ester sold the business years ago, and no longer self-publish their own books. Instead, Ester now works with a woman who was once her mentor to get her books published, freeing Ester to focus on the books themselves instead of the business side of the process. Each book covers a different topic — motivation, teen safety, veterans, etc. — and they’re all co-authored by someone in a corresponding field so that they’re as accurate and as helpful as possible.
She’s also changed spiritually. Raised Orthodox, Ester found herself joining a Reconstructionist congregation where she found a better fit. “I have turned out to be more of a spiritual person — but a Jewish spiritual person,” she explains. “It’s still all in the tenets of Judaism. I’m a solid Jewish woman.” In fact, it was at a Reconstructionist synagogue where she had a powerful experience that helped her through her grief.
It was during the winter in Cleveland. Snow was still on the ground and the trees were bare. During service at the Reconstructionist synagogue, she was given the chance to walk around and take a moment to think about her loved ones, so she did just that. She found herself near a large window, and all she could see outside was white. Nothing was alive, just the barren plains through a Cleveland window.
Suddenly, a bird appeared. The one shred of life visible on this cold February day, it hopped over toward Ester and sat there. “There was nothing but one bird, and it just looked at me. And I knew that was Mitchell. And I felt it was Mitchell.”
A Continuing Project
Today, Ester is still writing books and still working toward that magical “100.” She and her husband live outside of Tucson in a beautiful community framed perfectly by the mountains, with a nice home office for her. Their daughter Amy still does all the illustrations, and there are lots of future projects in the works. Ester also participates in several support groups across southern Arizona, and she sits on a few committees for local community issues. Things, as they say, are good.
Ultimately, helping others is what Ester’s life continues to be about. But perhaps she explains her mission best: “Here’s how I look at it. I don’t look at it like I’m making an impact in the world or I’m making a difference. I look at it like Mitchell did. Mitchell’s making a difference, because I learned … it’s all about Mitchell.”
This Nov. 22 will mark the 26th year since her son’s passing, and Ester will do a few of the usual things she does on that day. She’ll write and send off an email about the stigma of mental illness. She’ll also write Mitchell a note on his birthday to tell him what a good son he was. In short, he’ll honor his memory, just as she does every day.
As I wrapped up my talk with Ester, I noticed a butterfly prancing around a potted plant just outside of her patio door, making its way around the greenery. Thinking back on the previous hour, I realized that the same butterfly had appeared quite a few times, with each occurrence happening around a moment where Ester had spoken about Mitchell. Whether or not that butterfly was a completely random event or not is clearly a matter of opinion. But I like to think it might have been Mitchell, enjoying a beautiful afternoon with his mother.
