I was in California on a business trip, just yards from the beach, eating ice cream and laughing as the conversation drifted away from business. Eventually, somebody mentioned a friend-of-a-friend who had died by suicide.
The familiar ache and nausea filled my chest. My insides rattled when my coworker said he didn’t understand what would make someone feel like taking their life was the only option.
I swallowed hard and let out the breath I’d been holding. “I do.” For the first time in my life, I spoke up. “I completely get that. I’ve been there.”
My coworkers stared, jaws dangling in breathless shock. Finally, someone asked what it’s like to want to die. So I told them about the physical pain, the exhaustion, the heaviness. I told them it’s like dying of a terrible disease and wishing I could hurry it up, knowing things would only get worse.
The last year has brought news of too many people wanting to die. Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade ended their lives. Several of our friends’ kids have attempted suicide, shocking their church communities. Our hearts are breaking with those in such pain.
I remember my colleagues’ faces as my words sunk in. They had never heard what it’s like to be suicidal and they started to understand, at least a little. And I’m reminded how little the church knows about depression and suicide.
We are called to be the light of the world, a refuge for the broken and weary. But if we don’t understand the darkness people endure, it’s much less likely we’ll reach them in it. So here are some things every Christian should know about suicide and depression:
It’s not just mental and emotional.
The phrase “mental illness” makes it seem like it just exists in our thoughts. But it doesn’t. WebMD lists at least 12 physical symptoms of serious depression. Chronic pain develops or worsens. Chest pain, migraines, stomach problems, and a weakened immune system are some common symptoms.
There’s a bone-deep weariness that becomes a constant companion; no amount sleep or coffee can shake it off. When people say they can’t get out of bed because of depression, this is what they’re talking about.
That day at the beach, I told my coworkers about depression’s physicality. Every part of me ached from resisting gravity, as though my cells wanted to collapse in a puddle on the ground. My skin stung like lotion on a fresh sunburn and my throat hurt from the lump that lived in it. At one point, I was seriously underweight because I couldn’t force food down.
Suicide is not a selfish choice.
Sometimes people say suicide is the most selfish act you can commit. But for many battling the darkness, dying seems like the most selfless thing to do. Depression often carries an intense, shameful sense of self-hatred. In those pits, I believed I was toxic and harmful to those close to me. I was certain taking my own life would be a blessing to others.
It’s a familiar refrain. This mom thought her husband would find a beautiful new wife and mother for their baby. She knew he wouldn’t be burdened by her illness and her child would have a better mom. My good friend, Steve Austin, nearly died because he believed ending his life was best for his wife and infant son. Thankfully, he didn’t die. He spent some time in a psych ward, got on meds, and found [the] support he’d never found in the church.
We might not be sad.
Depression isn’t sadness, as this article explains. It’s much more complex: emptiness, flatness, irritation, or a strange numbness. Many people who seek help for depression only report physical symptoms because they don’t feel sad.
For me, I first notice it as brain fog. The world seems to move in slow motion, but I still can’t keep up. All I want is sleep, not just because depression is exhausting, but because sleep is an escape.