Why Suicide?

Recently a person who had been in recovery from major depressive disorder suicided. Their recovery journey had led them to help and inspire many, many, others who experience living wih mental health conditions to hang in there and recover. So what happened? Why did this person end their life, especially after being in recovery? This is the great question surrounding both mental health conditions and alcoholism/addiction - why, after a period of recovery, does a person often relapse, especially when the results of relapse can be fatal?

I was taken aback when I heard the news about this person. Not necessarily surprised, because I've seen people die from both depression and alcoholism - death is one of the outcomes from these disorders. I was taken aback because much of my recovery from both of these disorders involves helping others who are in similar boats - sharing my experience, strength, and hope with others so that they, too, gain some hope and begin their own recovery journey. So I began to question myself, and my own recovery, because today, I don't want to die. Today I want to live.

I haven't been suicidal in probably over a year-and-a-half. It's not that the thought hasn't entered my mind, or that some days have felt so hopeless to me that it became an option for a time. It is that it's been that long since I've experienced the daily thoughts and feelings of despair and hopelessness. It's been that long since I've had to search really hard for reasons to keep going. I am grateful that today that I can focus on thriving, instead of merely surviving.

The person who has never experienced major depressive disorder may not know what it feels like to want to die. S/he may not know that, for some people, just being alive is often unbearably painful. If you are one of the people who, through thick and thin, calamity and peace, chaos and order, have never considered offing yourself as an option, send a quick 'Thank you' to the Universe. There are many for whom 'To be or not to be?' is a daily question.

When someone in the depths of suffering from addiction and or depression is given and accepts the gift of recovery, a lot of hope is generated in that person. Life seems new and fresh again. There are new possibilities, new dreams. It's a great experience. Life really does take on new meaning. There is often much joy and happiness where previously there was only despair and anguish. Life used to be a struggle just to get through each day, and now things seem to be coming together with much less trouble.

Relapse occurs when the person in recovery, for whatever reason, stops taking the actions that they took initially to begin recovery. Recovery from substance abuse disorder or major psychiatric issues involves much, much more than just putting down the substance or taking medication for the cessation of symptoms. It really does involve a change in lifestyle and thinking, and these changes rarely come easily. Often, when a person has implemented these changes and gotten used to the new way of life, the person will look back and say, "Whew! Glad that's over!" Additionally, for mental health conditions, sometimes medications begin to become less effective. In either case, if relapse occurs (relapse being the return of the major symptoms of the disorders) the person returns in consciousness to where they were before. This is a huge, huge letdown.

I have experienced relapse many times, mainly because I was not treating one of my disorders. I was doing what I needed to do to maintain sobriety, but I was not doing what was necessary for me to stay away from depression and suicidal ideations. So my relapses looked like this: after a period of feeling pretty good and hopeful, I would begin to get depressed again. I would wonder what I was doing wrong, and often apply myself harder to my alcoholism recovery program. Eventually I would become despondent, because I really was a failure, and I just couldn't get this whole 'life' thing, and I needed to die. So I would return to drinking, because it gave me oblivion and because I might be able to die from it. The upshot is that each time I relapsed, I felt more hopeless than the time before, and life again became unbearable. Sometimes I think that's worse than having no recovery at all. It is really, really hard to live this life never getting out of the gate while I watch people around me thrive. It's impossible for me to not think that I'll never be good enough to have a real life. So let's end it now. Let's stop the pain permanently.

That was the majority of my life while I practiced what I now call 'half-measures' recovery, and it was miserable. Getting back to the person who suicided recently, I understand the pain they were feeling. Symptoms returned, and everything they were doing before must have seemed false. Hope vanished; despair and despondency returned.

I understand and accept a few things better today than I've ever understood before:

• I have two chronic potentially fatal disorders;
• My recovery is not static, it is dynamic. A life in recovery is ever-changing, ever-improving;
• Much of my recovery depends upon me being in the right place at the right time. For me, I am daily surrounded by people who will call me out if they recognize that something with me isn't right. I cannot stop 'suiting up and showing up' for my life and expect to stay in recovery. I do not recover alone.

Recovery from addiction and mental health conditions is both an art and a science. I no longer have an expectation that one day I won't have to concern myself with whether or not I'm going to drink again or whether or not symptoms of depression may show up again. Recovery must stay at the center of my life, or I will have no life. The good news for me is that this is not impossible, and the life I've found in recovery so far has been surprisingly pleasant (I'm not yet to the point where I'm 110% thrilled to be alive, but it is getting much, much better). 

One last point: No matter what I die from, the good that I've done and the help that I've been to others will never be eradicated. Recovery and hope are very, very real.

Namaste,

Ken