Thoughts on Suicide

I don't know if I'll have any coherent theme to follow as I talk about suicide. I intend to dive right into the subject and share my feelings, reactions, and thoughts as they present themselves. So don't expect eloquence or order in the ensuing paragraphs. Something I prepare you for not entirely out of shame, but to put an emphasis on other assets of writing, like honesty, intuition, and spontaneity.

Robin Williams killed himself a few years back. We were all so shocked because Robin and his characters were so often the embodiment of childlike joy-of silliness, creativity, fun, and innocence. He also radiated goodness in his life, or at least as far as I could tell (someone's private life could demonstrate something else entirely). By goodness, I mean empathy and kindness. If Robin didn't feel pure empathy for everyone, he at least offered a smile and the appearance of empathy, which is a powerful and virtuous thing in and of itself. As for real love and caring-real action-we're all now familiar with his Jesus-like (or better) care for sick children, and for his love of giving (the gifts of humor and bikes were his favorite).

I don't know what percentage of who I am now is Robin Williams. I do know I have a tendency to act silly (that is, when I'm not stoic or low). I've always been goofy, quirky, and, at times, energetic. I've never been talented like Robin Williams, but emotionally I feel like I assimilated his soul at a young age. As a kid I watched Mork (Robin Williams as an alien) and Mindy, and I still remember the joy of saying "Na-nu Na-nu" as I presented the modified Vulcan hand gesture to my siblings.

I admit that part of this Robin William's style of silliness is a subtle or not-too-subtle sense of trying to be cute or funny. I remember my brother Jim getting mad at me for photo bombing a picture of he and his buddies in front of an electric train and track that they set up. I was probably seven. Just when the photographer was opening the shutter, I popped up from behind the table, spread my arms, and said "cheeeeeesse" in the cutest way possible. Which was not cute to Jimmy.  So no, I'm not making the claim that the Robin Williams/Josh form of humor is universally appreciated. Nor am I trying to convince you that its a trait I'm proud of. In case you were wondering.
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I wasn't obsessed with Robin Williams characters, just highly influenced by them emotionally, perhaps in conjunction with other similar manic, child-like characters found on the television sets of the late 70s and 80s. Who knows if our temperament and personalities are fully developed by, say, age 2, or age 6, or 18? All I can say is that influence happens-I can feel it when it does. The emotional/personality transference occurred, and Robin Williams was a major donor for me.

And he was present throughout the first forty years or so of my life. Present in my world, if not my life. Everyone knew of him. Almost everyone enjoyed his performances. He was beloved.

For me, personally, I recognize now that I loved him to some degree or another. Love is a feeling that's a stew (or brick) of other emotions: affection, familiarity/intimacy, admiration, all of which I felt towards Robin Williams. I did not love him like I love my wife or son or mother, but I loved him nonetheless. I think this notion of love is easily understood by anybody with a heart, but for me its something of a revelation. If there is a theme that continues through these paragraphs it might be this.

Chris Cornell, the frontman for the bands Soundgarden and Audioslave, was also someone I loved. He killed himself a little over a year ago. He was a presence during my highly emotional and formative teen years-years that were marked by desire, heartache, loneliness, and awkwardness.  In the eleventh grade, I remember asking a talent show DJ to play "Hunger Strike" on the loud speaker in our school auditorium after the room had emptied out. It was a powerful, memorable experience (as evidenced by the way I am re-telling it). I owned and listened to Chris's albums during the same time I was obsessed with Pearl Jam. Cornell's voice, like the voices of several other musical artists, is a permanent fixture in my mind and key component of my emotional makeup. Hw had one of the best male voices I've ever heard-so emotive, so unique, so heart-achingly human.

I don't intend to write a eulogy. Not that I could. What I do want to draw attention to is the fact that several individuals who I loved to some degree or another and who are now emotionally apart of me have killed themselves. Its a sad thing, but its also a strange position to find myself in existentially speaking. I've thought about suicide, mostly in an academic, objective ways. I've also had the same kind of fleeting thoughts that I'm sure most people have at some time or another ("what would it be like to jump off this cliff?" "would I feel anything if I was shot in the head?" whatever)  But I've not seriously considered killing myself. I don't currently obsess about it. And can't imagine I'd ever actually do it.

Yet some of my major heros/influences have taken their own lives. What does this mean if anything?

Dolores O'riordan killed herself earlier this year. Now, as with Chris Cornell, some may argue that it was drugs that killed the artist. Either way, they both died far too young. I had a different emotional connection with Dolores. I guess I'd have to say I had a crush on her even though now, when I think that she's dead and gone, it feels like more.

Dolores was beautiful, feminine, sweet-yet-fierce, intelligent, and righteous. Her Irish voice and look appealed to something deeply ingrained in my genetic makeup. She was also present in my life during those turbulent teen years. The Cranberries performance on MTV's Unplugged in the early 90s was absolutely mesmerizing. I'm sure I'm not the only one who fell in love with Dolores while watching that performance.

Her voice cut deep into my soul. I've had so many moments listening to her albums while driving. If you're  a music fan (or Seinfeld fan...remember the "Desperado" episode), you'll understand what I mean by "moments".

Of all the artists and celebrities to pass away in the last five or so year (there have been many), Dolores's death was the most shocking and tragic to me. If I happened to be an old Irishman in Dublin, I can imagine raising toasts to the lost lass with the voice of a mythological siren. My buddies and I would drink too many Guinness, sing sappy songs, and celebrate her name once a year on the anniversary of her death.

Just a few days ago, Anthony Bourdaine was found dead in his hotel room. He too had committed suicide. I've spent a small percentage of my life sitting in front of the TV but existing in my mind in different parts of the world, tasting exotic foods, connecting with people who should be very different from me but aren't, and being stimulated and amused by the literary, political, and philosophical ramblings of Anthony Bourdaine.

I felt a connection with Anthony-I loved him-for a more than a few reasons. I shared an apartment with my buddy Eric Westrom for several years in my twenties. Those bachelor years were characterized by a lot of bike riding, large plates of spaghetti, big pans of ramen noodles, and giant bowls of cereal. Oh, and the old desperation. And good music. Eric and I shared interests, including music, bikes, comedy, and Anthony Bourdains shows. In short-and again-this individual was a prominent figure in my life.

I also just liked Anthony and felt a connection with him on an emotional/intellectual level. He had a wry, sarcastic sense of humor that occasionally relaxed into pure silliness. I appreciated the way he tried to draw significance from every experience and see the biggest picture possible. I liked the respect and openness he brought with every personal interaction. He was down-to-earth, honest, curious, and creative. And it was no secret that Anthony possessed a troubled (relatively speaking) soul. "Troubled" isn't the best adjective here. Yearning, angst-filled, turbulent, edgy...none of these on their own are quite right. It would be fair to say that a large percentage of humanity possess "troubled" souls. Perhaps its %100. At any rate, I related to Anthony's particular style of troubled soul. The punk rock, righteous, friendly, self effacing, and slightly-down... A soul that is no longer. Mine is still here. Again, what to make of this?

So what are my thoughts on suicide? Well, its certainly sad whenever someone is suffering from pain or depression, especially when it follows from losing the love of others as in a failed relationship or the loss of a mother, father, son, daughter, etc. In my opinion, the existence of suffering from depression is worse than the actual loss of life. Death is a common feature of life. Its absolutely rampant in this world. Dare I say its an epidemic (someone should do something about it). Its silly to be too shocked and saddened by death in general-or by the death of someone you don't love. Its absolutely natural to be emotionally destroyed by the death of someone you love greatly. Death may be something that's worth trying to prevent by treating and curing ailments and by outlawing the purposeful killing of individuals. But to be emotionally traumatized by it (in general) is kind of dumb. Not to trivialize things by implying that our emotional reactions are 100% the result of well thought-out decisions, just to say that we shouldn't make it a habit to morn any and every loss of life that comes across our TV or computer screens. What's tough to accept emotionally is the the before and after affects of suicide. The depression felt before, and the pain of the those who loved the one who died.

I don't look down on anyone who commits suicide. I don't condemn the act. Its a shame whenever it happens. I can't help it, it saddens me to think of a person experiencing so much pain that they successfully overrule their most fundamental survival instinct. But I would be a hypocrite if I said someone shouldn't have the right to choose for oneself whether they should continue to live or not. I believe in free agency, especially in matters of existence (I probably shouldn't volunteer to work the suicide prevention hotline).

I tend to agree with those who say that being suicidal (having suicidal thoughts/fantasies) is a disease. I think the thought of ending ones own life is something that infects a person. I think it builds on itself-it grows and spreads. And it even jumps from one person to the next. If someone you know and love commits suicide, my guess is that you're far more likely to do so as well, sooner or later. I'm sure there are statistics that either support or kill this assumption. So, just as we don't blame a person for having cancer, we don't lay blame those who are suicidal. Who would choose to be depressed? Who, if they could help it, choose to die if they could simply choose to live a pain-free, contented life? So we need to offer empathy and close professional care for those who are at a high risk of committing suicide, just as we would for anyone who is sick or injured.

There could also be some biological explanations for suicide. I know it sounds heartless to say it, but maybe suicide is a way for a species to rid itself of the runts or the losers in the constant battle for status and mating supremacy. I don't believe it-I just don't know. I think of how I've been at my lowest after break ups-either romantic or social. Romantic and social isolation can seem/feel like death to an individual-and, I'd guess, lead to suicide.

I don't want to spend too much time trying to explain suicide since clearly I'm not an expert on the subject. I'll only say one more thing: drugs often seem to be around when someone decides to kill him/herself.

I don't "do drugs". A fact that would probably cause more than a few people to discount my thoughts on any number of subjects. How can I speak about something I've not experienced? My point is extremely general and maybe that will help it.

I'm in awe with how much my mood can swing from feeling healthy, strong, sharp, intelligent, and even superior, to feeling old, week, dull, dumb, and inferior. I can feel quite contented and sometimes happy, but I can also be unsettled, dissatisfied, and down..Having experienced true depression, I can really relate to the Cure's lyrics, "Yesterday I got so old, I felt like I could die." Other times I don't feel old so much as I feel an extreme heaviness on my heart and mind. The point is, without drugs, my moods can have extreme variance.

If drugs did nothing but make me high, then there'd be nothing more to say about them. But moods tend to swing, and even a drug that makes me feel better will most likely lead to me feeling more down. Some drugs are explicitly intended to bring the user down. What I don't need help with is feeling down. I often enjoy the experience-call it the catharsis of depression. It can be like a deep sleep. I can come out of it refreshed. Or my depression can be, simply, a nice aesthetic/emotional experience, like listening to Joy Division, the Cure, Sufjan Stevens, the Counting Crows, or any one of the dozens of bands I revere. Depression can be a great wellspring of creativity as well, I've found.

But generally speaking, true depression is not a good thing. And I suffer from the bad kind from time to time. Like I said, I've never intended to or desired to kill myself, despite my depression. But if I were to add drugs to the mix and increase my highs and lower my lows, who knows how I'd behave in those new extremes.

The problem with certain drugs may be as simple as their tendency to impair your judgement.

Now that I'm a father, I feel obligated to share some helpful advice or suggestions to those who aren't so lucky as to not worry about suicide. If the thought of suicide sometimes haunts you, just know that life can be a roller coaster ride-when you're really low, chances are you'll come up (its a near guarantee). Don't let your low self make all the decisions for your future high self. If you've been capable of joy and fun and contentment in the past, at any point in your life, you are factually capable of that again. You are still you.

Also, don't think that you can survive if you do nothing to try to improve your situation. No one who's down wants to hear someone say, "pull yourself up from your bootstraps and get to work making your life better". But if you are always 100% reliant on someone else and are unwilling to try for yourself, I guess there's little hope for you. You may not think you have the power to make a difference for yourself, but you do. Even asking others for help is exercising some kind of power. Rely on others when necessary, but think of the arrangement as a partnership and you're a team member who's going to pull his weight.

Is loneliness driving you to tears? Put yourself out there and keep trying to make connections-do it conscientiously and not selfishly. Be honest-recognize your weaknesses, accept them, but then make some kind of attempt to improve yourself. Nothing transforms depression into energy and contentment like ambition, hope, and real change. It takes action to gain all three. No, you can't expect someone to love you as you are if you're a rude, idiotic slob. No one is obligated to accept you for "who you are" if who you are is a smelly imbecile. Take a bath. Get an education. There are objective standards that make someone likable and/or attractive. Don't take these for granted. Make an effort if you lack them. Work towards gradual, reliable, lasting improvement. Take solace in the fact that no one is perfect, no one will ever be perfect, but small improvements in your life can give you the confidence to make connections. Confidence is the most attractive trait. Do what you have to do to build it. Acceptance can coexist with ambition. Embrace both.

I'm not comfortable giving motivational speeches. I'm not a fan of artificial, temporary boosts to moral. We all need to find some lasting peace, self worth, and strength that help us survive the various lows and tragedies of life. I've rejected religion as a source for these things. But I give religion credit for offering something-anything-that brings people purpose and peace, as well as critical social belonging. I'm ashamed of atheists' inability to offer the world anything more than "you are made of stars" as an existentially reassuring sentiment. There's work to do yet.

So what does it mean for me, that all of these great people I looked up to and related to have committed suicide? It just reinforces what I've always thought: anything can happen-we can't predict what will occur in the future or how we'll respond to those events. I'm not any better than anyone else, so I can't or shouldn't talk as though I would never commit suicide (even though I don't have a the slightest desire to do so now).

Given that I can't imagine that I'd end my own life (apart from being extremely old and in constant pain/misery), I feel uncomfortable writing something that begins, "if I commit suicide...", like a suicide note. But this kind of writing project has interested me, especially as I've gotten older. As morbid as it sounds, I'd like to write letters (addressed to my son and wife, perhaps) that begin like this. I think everyone should. For example, one letter might begin, "If I get eaten by a bear while I'm on a bike ride" dot, dot, dot. Or, "If I die in a fiery car crash" dot, dot, dot. Or, perhaps more useful to those who survive me, "If I have a massive stroke and become incapacitated...". Things like this. These will be different writing projects. But I'll share one of the main points I'd want to make in each. That no matter how I go, the way I went is ultimately not that important. No matter how painful or tragic my final end may (or may not) be, its just a small footnote to my entire life. I could experience the most horrific pain, depression, or panic as I'm dying (you know, like being eaten by a bear), but ninety nine percent of my life was not that. I was alive and feeling well (for the most part) and doing the best that I could to enjoy myself, work toward my personal goals, and be the guy I wanted to be.

With that said, here's to a few thousand more years of life here on Earth (I'm sure medical science will keep me around for at least two or three thousand, right?). I'm looking forward to all kinds of fun and adventures with you in the years to come.