“Fuck me, 52 is too fucking young. Why are we Gen-Xers dropping dead?” I thought when I read that Chris Cornell was found dead in his hotel room in Detroit this morning. Tonight I learned his death was ruled a suicide. He left behind three kids.
Depression is a seriously evil monster. It sinks its teeth into you, and its bite poisons you, weakening you so you can’t fight back when it starts to devour you. I feel those teeth graze my skin every time I hear Chris Cornell sing “Black Hole Sun” or “Fell on Black Days.” He hung himself last night; depression finally finished him off.
It's difficult for those who don’t suffer from depression to comprehend how someone so talented, who seemed to have it all, can get to a place where hanging himself seems a better option than living. I get it.
No, I’m not suicidal. But after battling my twin demons of depression and anxiety since I was in grade school (over 35 years), I can understand how a person ends up thinking death is the only path to peace. One expends such extraordinary amounts of energy, to stay just barely above drowning, that when you finally fall beneath the waves that final time, it’s comforting. It’s a relief.
You carry with you such deep pain and sorrow—and often anger—you wear out spiritually. The burden becomes too heavy, and you just can’t carry it one more step up that fucking hill. Nothing eases it; no amount medication balances you; no relationship makes you feel valuable and necessary. Your presence on this planet seems to make zero difference. Pain is the only thing left. Yes, depression is a gnarly motherfucker.
So why do some of us stick it out, when others decide “no more” and end their lives? I suspect, in part, it’s because we retain the capacity to empathize, to understand that living with our pain is far preferable to the alternative: leaving those we treasure behind to suffer pain, anger, frustration, and confusion because we didn’t reach out and let them help. And I do think when it comes to surviving (and some days thriving) with depression; it’s all about letting those that love us share our burden.
The challenge is learning to trust that the nasty voices whispering, “you’re a complete shit; everyone hates you; every bad thing that happens is your fault; you’ll never be at peace; you’d be better off dead” are lying. They are trying to kill us.
We survive because we declare war, armor up and fight back. Every day is a new battle, and some battles are bloodier than others. Some of us bleed out.
RIP Chris Cornell.