The Truth About Suicide

The suicide of Stephen “tWitch” Boss has caused some good discussion about mental health, suicide, and how someone’s life can look so perfect on the outside but be far from perfect on the inside.

What made the news more shocking was that tWitch appeared to have it all – a happy, positive, beautiful life. I didn’t follow his career, but I knew who he was from The Ellen DeGeneres Show. He was so likable, and I, like many others, felt we got to know him a bit during his time on Ellen.

Suicide is so misunderstood, and it’s something you can’t have a conversation about after the fact. No one can reflect on the day and tell you what they were going through that led to their death. It’s too late. The signs don’t matter. The reason doesn’t matter. It’s often viewed as a selfish act, and I could not disagree more.

While I haven’t done all the research and can’t list the statistics, I can speak from my own experience. I think it’s an important conversation that gives you a deeper understanding and awareness of what leads a person to consider suicide. While my story may not be everyone’s experience, I’m certain there are commonalities. Unless you have been on this brink yourself, I think it is difficult for someone to grasp the despair, but I hope to shine some light into a dark place.

Ten years have passed since my experience. It is not something I think about often or have shared publicly before. Some memories are vivid, others are hazy, and it’s difficult to return to such a dark place, but I think it needs to be shared. The reasons and events that led up to this time are irrelevant, so I have intentionally left those details out and focused on what was happening in my mind during this time.

My Story

My emotions had been on a yo-yo for days, up one minute and down the next. In one day, I could yo-yo probably three or more times, depending on the day’s events. When I felt up, I was on top of the world. My world was exciting, fun, positive and happy. Then before I knew it, I would be down. Sobbing uncontrollably, overwhelmed with negative thoughts, overloaded with despair. My mind was out of control.

That yo-yo of emotion cannot be sustained, and the strongest emotions soon take over. It’s a downward spiral. I started to feel the grief and loss of myself during this process, and there was a shift from deep depression to suicidal thoughts. I had failed at life; I was a failure, life had defeated me, and there was no reason to go on. I was mourning the loss of my life, and the grief was unbearable.

My mind entered a vast, dark pit. Reality was distorted, and my thoughts swirled in a circular motion, increasing in intensity very quickly. I was sucked deeper and deeper into the darkest part of this pit. I felt so far away from everything around me. No one would find me there even if they looked.

My thoughts were unrelenting, and I couldn’t get away from them. Sleep was often impossible; alcohol didn’t help, drugs didn’t help. The minutes in my day became completely overwhelming and unmanageable. No one told me I was a burden or disappointment, but I knew I was. My thoughts became me, and none of them were rational. I felt a pain that no words could describe. There is nothing to compare to the pain I was feeling. It wasn’t physical, and it wasn’t a sense of sadness. It was more of a cloak of darkness draped over and through me, and every nerve in my body felt it and struggled to bear it.

I sensed this pain I was feeling radiated to everyone I loved, everyone I was near. Nobody knew this was happening, but I was certain everyone, even my children, were being pained just by me being in the world, whether they knew it or not. They would be able to live better lives without the burden of me. If I were gone, I would stop the pain I was radiating to them. Never once did I think my death would break their heart. I felt I was doing them a favor. Pain causes your reality to be warped. Natural childbirth doesn’t compare to this pain, but after I had been in natural labor with my son for close to twenty hours, I remember deciding I couldn’t do this (birth a baby), gave up and wanted to go home. I clearly remember thinking I could make that decision and tell everyone to stop, and I could check out and go home without a baby and no longer be pregnant. I was angry at people for telling me I couldn’t do that. If labor pain could make my reality so distorted, I can only imagine the severe distortion caused by this pain.

The decision had been made, and I was ready to end my life. I could stop the pain I was feeling and help the people around me deal with the pain I was bringing to their lives. I needed to do this. I wanted to do this. I could no longer bear the pain. It was 12:21 a.m. on April 2, 2012. Before I swallowed down the pills in front of me on the coffee table with a bottle of Budweiser, I sent a message to my aunt, asking if she was awake. I’m not sure what caused me to send that message. Maybe I was trying to prove to myself one last time that I was doing the right thing. When she responded almost immediately, I replied, “Please come help me.”

I was fortunate to survive and get the help I needed. Even though I lived this story, it seems unbelievable to reflect on now. To remember how real each and every thought and feeling was and to realize how distorted my thinking was. I don’t think I have ever reflected on these thoughts from a healthy state of mind until now.

Before I share the two things that ultimately saved my life after texting my aunt, I want to address how someone can have no outward signs of struggle. We all cope differently, but my theory is that a person who naturally copes with negative situations by disassociation is likely able to appear happy and healthy when they are, in fact, not. Disassociation is the ability to separate from what is happening to you. It’s similar to an out-of-body experience and makes it easy to portray something other than what you are experiencing. I am good at disassociation, so even when I was experiencing this time in my life, I could work and function in a normal fashion outwardly. You can learn more about disassociation here.

Two Things That Saved My Life

The most important thing you can do for a person who is suicidal is to be present. Make sure the area is safe for them, and don’t leave their side. Remove the pills, the gun, the rope, whatever it is. Don’t let them convince you they are okay and you can go. Your being present is what will keep that person alive. At the time, I couldn’t fathom the thought of somebody valuing me enough to give me their presence. You don't have to say anything. You don't have to do anything. You don't have to offer anything. You just have to be present. Your presence will momentarily interrupt their spiraling thoughts. They may want to talk; they may want to sleep; whatever it is, don’t leave. It was after 5 a.m. when I was ready to sleep, but my aunt didn’t leave, even though I wanted her to.

The second thing that saved my life was professional help. Unless you are a trained professional, you are not equipped to provide the level of help needed to bring someone out of this deep, dark pit. Before this particular night, I had made an appointment with a counselor because I was depressed. I was not suicidal when I made that counseling appointment, which shows how quickly things can spiral out of control. Fortunately, my appointment was the following day. If that appointment hadn’t been scheduled, I would have needed to go to the hospital. I needed immediate help and could not have survived being left alone in that state.

While it took lots of work to get out of that pit, I am thankful I did. The 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline was established as a resource with great information about suicide. There is hope, and there is help.

Catina Borgmann is an emerging blogger and the author of the book Discovering My Gypsy Soul.

She founded GypsyWander, a company focused on inspiring free-spirited women to live authentically and find joy in their journey. www.GypsyWander.life.