I See You

(Updated on 05/27/2025) Robin Williams. Chris Cornell. Chester Bennington. Kate Spade. Anthony Bourdain. And, most recently, Stephen ‘Twitch’ Boss. News of a celebrity who commits suicide is at once shocking and incredibly sad. These are people who have often reached the pinnacle of success in the eyes of anyone on the outside looking in; they have money, prestige, power, influence, good looks and, seemingly, everything going for them.

A popular gossip magazine often touts the phrase: “Celebrities: They’re just like US!” In this case, the aforementioned phrase is painfully true. According to the Centers for Disease Control, as of 2023, suicide was among the top 8 causes of death in the United States, taking the lives of 49,316 people in that year alone. Sadder still, in the same year, suicide was the second leading cause of death in individuals between the ages of 10 and 34, and among the top 8 causes in those between the ages of 10 and 64.

The first time that I considered suicide, I was seven years old. I remember standing in my closet, trying to figure out how I could fasten a rope to the ceiling and hang myself. I even took a stool and stood on it, imagining that I could kick it out from under myself and end the pain that I was experiencing on a daily basis. This was right in the middle of a three-year period of time when one of my uncles who lived with us was raping and terrorizing me. I felt humiliated and worthless, but I really wanted someone to just see me.

Around the same time, I started falling down regularly as I walked to and from school, skinning up my forehead. In response, my family ridiculed me, telling me that I was too stupid to put my hands out to catch myself. To be honest, I didn’t understand why I wasn’t putting my hands out either; in hindsight, it’s clear that I was hoping someone would recognize that something was wrong and help me.

To most people, this will probably sound rather pathetic, but, one day toward the middle of my second-grade year, a teacher gave me the recognition that I so desperately needed. That morning, on the way to school, I fell yet again, this time just scraping up my knee and my elbow.

When I got to my classroom, my teacher at the time, Mrs. Parker, noticed my bloody elbow. She cleaned it up gently and, as she wiped away the blood, told me that I was brave and that the deep red color of my blood meant that I was strong and that I had “strong blood”. I don’t know if she sensed the sadness within me, but her words meant so much and came at the perfect time. You may have heard the saying that a simple word, smile, or act of kindness can mean more than you realize. I’m living proof of that.

The second time that I remember seriously thinking about suicide was when I was seventeen years old. My senior year had just begun, and I attended the high school football jamboree at Memorial Stadium in Seattle. My father had a sweatshirt with a picture of a bull and the ‘no’ symbol (circle with a slash through it) on it. I thought it was cool and I wore it to the jamboree.

After a couple of weeks, my younger brother told my father that I’d worn the sweatshirt. In response, my father sent my brother and sister outside to play, then called me into the living room. He told me that he knew that I’d worn his sweatshirt without permission and asked me why I’d done so. I told him that I thought it was cool and he hadn’t been at home at the time, so I’d borrowed it. I apologized for not asking first.

He stated that I had no right to touch his things without permission, then walked over to me, took my glasses off, and hit me as hard as he could across my face, knocking me down on the floor. He then told me to get up, and as soon as I stood up, he knocked me down again, making me pee on myself. As I lay there in the fetal position, my mother (who was sitting on the couch watching), said (to my father), “Okay, so do you want to go to the video store now?” They left me lying there and went to the video store. When they left, I looked up the number for the suicide hotline, called it, then hung up when someone answered.

A few weeks later, my father kicked me out of the house, and I went to live with my best friend’s family. My friend had an aunt who was kinder to me than anyone had ever been and made me feel like I was worthy of love and respect. She was actually the first person who ever truly had my back and stood up for me. Once my family saw that, they took me away from her, but she did so much to help me realize my worth in the short time that I lived with her. She helped me to see that a better life was possible, and that suicide was not the answer.

Years later, after I’d severed ties with my biological family, I was struck with Cushing’s Disease, a rare disorder caused by a brain tumor. One of the things that Cushing’s does is to affect your hormones and, in a majority of those affected, causes major depression. Since I had the disease for more than 17 years before I was diagnosed, I, too experienced severe depression.

At one point, in 2010 or so, I again contemplated suicide. The economy had tanked, and my successful online business was losing major clients due to budget cuts. I truly felt like I was worth nothing and that everyone that I knew was better off without me. Of course, these feelings were intensified by the chemical imbalance from my disease. Fortunately, I have an amazing husband who helped me through that dark period and didn’t give up until I began to see my value. Again, I had someone who saw me when I needed it most.

After Chris Cornell’s death in May 2017, an acquaintance wrote to me, asking me how he could do that and leave his children. She stated that a co-worker had just killed himself also, and she was trying to figure out the state of mind of someone who does that. I explained that, for me, it was an intense feeling of hopelessness, coupled with an emotional pain so intense that I couldn’t breathe – sort of like a panic attack, where you feel that the only way out is…out. You don’t feel like anyone understands, and you truly feel alone; like no one really sees you.

The musical artist Logic has an amazing song called ‘1-800-273-8255’, which, when it was released, was the number of the national Suicide Prevention Hotline (it has since been shortened to 988). The lyrics of that song perfectly chronicle the thoughts of someone contemplating suicide, then deciding against it. I appreciate that song so much because it begins a much-needed dialogue surrounding this issue.

The old saying that the first step to solving a problem is admitting that one exists is so true. With the astronomical suicide rate in this country, nothing will be solved unless people are willing to share their experiences and let others know that they are not alone. In a world where so many of us are so focused on electronic devices, we need to look up and really see those around us. Human connection and interaction is vital to solving this issue, which claims victims regardless of age, ethnicity, gender, or socioeconomic status.

A year after Chris Cornell’s death, I had a routine surgical procedure and almost died after the surgeon failed to seal off one of my arteries. I bled out internally for hours and required emergency surgery and three units of blood to save my life. As the doctor on call looked at me with a mixture of doom and determination, I was at once smacked with the value of life and the realization that the lives of others would be irretrievably affected by the loss of mine. My hope is that, in some small way, my experiences and the fact that I’ve been able to survive them, can inspire others to see their value and that there is hope even in the most dismal of times.

For someone suffering from depression, the suicide of a celebrity can trigger feelings of hopelessness. After all, if they, who seemingly have everything, can’t go on, what do I, who doesn’t have nearly as much, have to live for? I’m here to tell you that, like the teacher who commented on my ‘strong blood’ or my friend’s aunt, who gave me hope, you inspire people in many ways that you don’t even know.

You have value. You have worth beyond measure. God has you here for a reason and I, along with the rest of the world, need you and your unique qualities to make the world a better place. Please don’t give up. And, if you’re reading this, there’s a reason for it.

I see you.

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