LET’S TALK ABOUT OUR EPIDEMIC OF SUFFERING
Thinking of suicide? Please know this — the darkness does not have to last
Why any human being would want to end her life is, for many people, simply incomprehensible. But the recent deaths by suicide of two celebrities and a national report about a rising number of suicides has us talking, tweeting and posting. And, importantly, asking, “Why?” Who knew the outwardly cheerful and effervescent designer Kate Spade was hiding such terrible pain? Anthony Bourdain, who wore his demons as a badge of honor, nevertheless shocked us with his suicide. Both were successful, famous and rich. What could possibly be so horrible for them to kill themselves, leaving behind anguished family, children and friends?
Suicide is not something we like to talk about. But I have a different understanding of suicide than most, both as survivor of an attempt at age 15 to take my own life, and as a survivor of my mother’s death. So when people ask me, instead of staying silent, I share my story.
I remember what I was thinking the night I planned my death — I just didn’t want to exist anymore, and I believed no one would care if I were gone. Then, as I lay in my bedroom waiting for the end, a strange thing happened: a screen opened in my mind, and a movie of my life began to play out. I saw in my mind’s eye all the things I’d seen and experienced, and all the people I loved. I realized life was worth living. I knew then that it wasn’t my time to go.
More than 30 years later, I made another decision — perhaps one that saved my life — to walk away from my job as a television news anchor at KHOU here in Houston. I had been fighting a draining 16-year battle against bulimia, while trying to manage a chronic case of depression and anxiety under a glaring, critical public spotlight. My departure surprised a lot of people because I’d maintained the outward appearance of someone who had a great life.
I now understand that thousands of Americans are fighting their own similar battles and that many are losing the fight. An astounding Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report shows that the national suicide rate is up 25 percent since 1999 and that more people died by suicide in 2016 than from car crashes or opioid overdose. The suicide rate among military veterans is 22 percent higher than for civilians. Too many people, fearing judgment
and discrimination because of the terrible stigma surrounding mental illness, are suffering in silence.
To be sure, living with mental illness is not easy. My mother was hospitalized several times over the years as my siblings and I were growing up. Eventually, the stigma and negative attitudes she faced forced Mom to move us away from the town where we grew up. What’s more, it’s hard sometimes even for the people who love them to fully comprehend a family member’s mental illness as a disease they cannot control on their own. After all, there’s no blood test to confirm depression or any brain scan to prove an anxiety disorder. More than once, when Mom’s bipolar disorder sent her into an exhausting manic episode, even I wanted to yell at her to “just get over it!”
And yet, she somehow managed years of exhilarating mood swings followed by crushing depressions to raise three successful children. In the end, however, the bipolar disorder became too much. Judy Foronda died by suicide in 2009.
I am so proud of my mother for believing her experiences might bring comfort to others who were suffering. Years before she died, we agreed that publicly telling our story could encourage people who might otherwise be too afraid or ashamed, to ask for help. Every time a friend takes the first tentative step to make an appointment with a therapist or another comes forward to share her journey, we all move one step closer to making mental illness a topic is normal, even healthy, to talk about.
As suicide rates continue to rise, now is the time to look beyond negative stereotypes about mental illness. This requires empathy, the kind of understanding that starts when we withhold judgment and look beyond what we can’t objectively understand in order to change society’s perspective on diseases of the mind and how we talk about them.
For instance, I don’t say my mom committed suicide. Criminals commit armed robbery or homicide. My mother died by suicide. The bipolar disorder she fought for so many years had finally twisted her reasoning to the point that she actually believed we would be better off without her. The depths of my mother’s despair must have been unbearable.
We must also remember that mental illness is a chronic disease, like cancer or diabetes. If a friend were having an asthma attack or chest pains because of heart disease, would you tell that friend to tough it out?
Finally, we must be bold and step out of our comfort zones to actively assist people who are struggling. The poet Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late.” If you’re reading this and considering suicide, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK, or chat with someone by texting CONNECT to 741741.
You’re not alone. I’ve been there, and I know the darkness doesn’t have to last.