When the darkness seems like it will never become Dawn
I woke up this morning to the news that celebrity chef and Adventurer Anthony Bourdain had been found dead in his hotel room of an apparent suicide. I was shocked. Absolutely flabbergasted. Because this man seemed like he was a man who had everything. He clearly was fighting demons that nobody knew he was battling against. And if his friends and loved ones knew hew was battling, he didn't get the help that he needed or maybe even wanted. We may never know. Earlier this week, celebrity designer Kate Spade took her own life. She wasn't much older than I was. She had a son younger than my children. Again from the outside? This is a person who could do anything, go anywhere, see anything. Why would they give all that up? How can you leave your children to grow up without a parent? Kurt Cobain. Don Cornelius. Chester Bennington. Robin Williams. Chris Cornell. We ask ourselves so many times in cases of suicide, why? We think, It can never be THAT BAD for you to want to kill yourself.
I will admit that once upon a time, I thought of suicide as being the most selfish thing you can do. To take your own life and to leave your family with the pieces behind. Pieces that they will never be able to pick up. Because you chose to end your life. I couldn't imagine ever making that choice. And then, one day, I did imagine it. I imagined it over and over and over again. I imagined it so much that I scared myself. When you get into a state where you think that the only way to stop the pain that you have is to end your own life? That is a sickness. It's no longer a choice when you start having hallucinations and you're not sure whether you're awake or asleep because they feel so real. When you wake up in the middle of the night sobbing because you have imagined not only killing yourself, but killing your children. That's not a choice. You walk around everyday smiling and everybody thinks you have it together. I look back at that time in my life and every picture of me is the same. The smile for the camera, doing everything that I did everyday, doing everything that I was expected to do. Smiling on the outside but literally dying on the inside. I had what everybody thought was a very full life. Nobody knew that I went home every day to a husband who emotionally abused me. To a husband who was so narcissistic that everything was about him. Who made me feel insignificant. Everything was my fault. Nothing was his. I was a stay-at-home mom and I wouldn't trade that time for the world. But in in his opinion, he went to work and made the money, and that meant that nothing else was his responsibility. He would go away for weeks at a time and travel and when he came home I would ask him if I could just go to the grocery store alone. The answer was always no. Can't you take the kids with you? I had to do my grocery shopping at midnight at Walmart or one of the 24-hour grocery stores because that was when the children were asleep. I would sit in my car in the parking lot and cry before I went in because I didn't want anyone to see me. My children and I became a triangle. Strong and sure, and we didn't need anybody else. At least that's what we told the world. But inside? I died a little bit more every single day. I felt like I was worthless. I felt stupid. Here I was a brilliant academic and somebody that was always thought of as being a leader, and I allowed myself to be put in this position. And I stayed for way longer than I should have. Because the choice wasn't really a choice. I truly believed that I had no other options. I truly believed that I had no power. When he finally walked out and left, I thought I was going to die. I ended up in the emergency room with what I thought was a heart attack, but I had a nervous breakdown. I was almost catatonic. Luckily, I had help. I had an amazing village of support that helped me realize that I was going to be OK. But it takes MORE than a village. It takes therapy. It takes medication. It takes time. And some people will need these things for the REST. OF. THEIR. LIVES.
When someone gets cancer, we ask, What can we do? Can we help? What is the treatment and prognosis? We organize help at home. We sign up to take meals. We offer to babysit. When someone goes through a mental health crisis? There is no Take them a Meal sign up. There is no offer to take the load off. We feel sad and sorry for people but we don't know what to say. There is still so much of a stigma against mental illness that people don't see it as a real disease. It is a disease. It is as real as cancer, or multiple sclerosis, or Parkinson's disease. But to announce that you are suffering from it is to admit that you are weak. Or that you can't cope.
In this article by Vox, even media influence can affect the way we feel about suicide. https://www.vox.com/first-person/2018/5/5/17319632/kate-spade-cause-of-death-suicide-celebrities-reporting Suicide isn't glorious. It's not glamourous. It's dark. It's twisty. It's scary. It is the last resort for people who are in so much pain that they can't even begin to truly live their lives.
I have multiple friends and loved ones who cope with mental illness every. single. day. From the outside they are doctors, lawyers, social workers, stay at home mothers, students, teachers. Mental illness knows no racial boundaries. No income boundaries. No age boundaries. It is insidious and sneaky and can wrap its tendrils around you before you know you're caught. And you can be dragged down into the darkness and you can't recall how you got there.
Have open dialogues with your family and friends. Make sure they don't feel alone. TALK to them. Reach out to them. Send someone a message, a letter, a text just asking if they are OK and if they need anything. If you know someone who is suffering, let them know you are there. Let them know it's OK. That they are not broken. Don't make them feel ashamed. Or weak. Or like a burden.
RIP Anthony and Kate and so many others. May you finally find the peace that eluded you so much in this life.
If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, text the Crisis Text Line at 741-741 or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273- 8255.
I will admit that once upon a time, I thought of suicide as being the most selfish thing you can do. To take your own life and to leave your family with the pieces behind. Pieces that they will never be able to pick up. Because you chose to end your life. I couldn't imagine ever making that choice. And then, one day, I did imagine it. I imagined it over and over and over again. I imagined it so much that I scared myself. When you get into a state where you think that the only way to stop the pain that you have is to end your own life? That is a sickness. It's no longer a choice when you start having hallucinations and you're not sure whether you're awake or asleep because they feel so real. When you wake up in the middle of the night sobbing because you have imagined not only killing yourself, but killing your children. That's not a choice. You walk around everyday smiling and everybody thinks you have it together. I look back at that time in my life and every picture of me is the same. The smile for the camera, doing everything that I did everyday, doing everything that I was expected to do. Smiling on the outside but literally dying on the inside. I had what everybody thought was a very full life. Nobody knew that I went home every day to a husband who emotionally abused me. To a husband who was so narcissistic that everything was about him. Who made me feel insignificant. Everything was my fault. Nothing was his. I was a stay-at-home mom and I wouldn't trade that time for the world. But in in his opinion, he went to work and made the money, and that meant that nothing else was his responsibility. He would go away for weeks at a time and travel and when he came home I would ask him if I could just go to the grocery store alone. The answer was always no. Can't you take the kids with you? I had to do my grocery shopping at midnight at Walmart or one of the 24-hour grocery stores because that was when the children were asleep. I would sit in my car in the parking lot and cry before I went in because I didn't want anyone to see me. My children and I became a triangle. Strong and sure, and we didn't need anybody else. At least that's what we told the world. But inside? I died a little bit more every single day. I felt like I was worthless. I felt stupid. Here I was a brilliant academic and somebody that was always thought of as being a leader, and I allowed myself to be put in this position. And I stayed for way longer than I should have. Because the choice wasn't really a choice. I truly believed that I had no other options. I truly believed that I had no power. When he finally walked out and left, I thought I was going to die. I ended up in the emergency room with what I thought was a heart attack, but I had a nervous breakdown. I was almost catatonic. Luckily, I had help. I had an amazing village of support that helped me realize that I was going to be OK. But it takes MORE than a village. It takes therapy. It takes medication. It takes time. And some people will need these things for the REST. OF. THEIR. LIVES.
When someone gets cancer, we ask, What can we do? Can we help? What is the treatment and prognosis? We organize help at home. We sign up to take meals. We offer to babysit. When someone goes through a mental health crisis? There is no Take them a Meal sign up. There is no offer to take the load off. We feel sad and sorry for people but we don't know what to say. There is still so much of a stigma against mental illness that people don't see it as a real disease. It is a disease. It is as real as cancer, or multiple sclerosis, or Parkinson's disease. But to announce that you are suffering from it is to admit that you are weak. Or that you can't cope.
In this article by Vox, even media influence can affect the way we feel about suicide. https://www.vox.com/first-person/2018/5/5/17319632/kate-spade-cause-of-death-suicide-celebrities-reporting Suicide isn't glorious. It's not glamourous. It's dark. It's twisty. It's scary. It is the last resort for people who are in so much pain that they can't even begin to truly live their lives.
I have multiple friends and loved ones who cope with mental illness every. single. day. From the outside they are doctors, lawyers, social workers, stay at home mothers, students, teachers. Mental illness knows no racial boundaries. No income boundaries. No age boundaries. It is insidious and sneaky and can wrap its tendrils around you before you know you're caught. And you can be dragged down into the darkness and you can't recall how you got there.
Have open dialogues with your family and friends. Make sure they don't feel alone. TALK to them. Reach out to them. Send someone a message, a letter, a text just asking if they are OK and if they need anything. If you know someone who is suffering, let them know you are there. Let them know it's OK. That they are not broken. Don't make them feel ashamed. Or weak. Or like a burden.
RIP Anthony and Kate and so many others. May you finally find the peace that eluded you so much in this life.
If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, text the Crisis Text Line at 741-741 or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273- 8255.
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