Except for this one detail: Like every other young woman I’d profiled in that article, Suzy suffered from depression. When she started to have suicidal thoughts, she reached out for support, going to her university’s health center, but ultimately placing her trust with a suicide “support” group, which both applauded her impulse to end her life and gave her advice on how to do it.
I never really stopped thinking about Suzy, about the article I might’ve written about her—the book she might’ve written, the band she might’ve fronted, the movie she might’ve directed—had she gotten proper treatment for the condition that had put her in such pain that ending her life seemed like the only way to relieve it.
More than a decade later, Suzy was the spark of inspiration for the fictional character of Meg. And from Meg came Cody, I Was Here’s heroine. Cody is a young woman decimated by her best friend’s death, left raw and grieving, full of sadness and anger and regret and questions that will never be answered. Cody and Meg are fictional, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering: if Meg knew what her suicide would do to her best friend, to her family, would she have done it? Or from wondering if in the depths of her depression, Meg could even fathom such a ripple effect.
According to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, studies have consistently suggested that the overwhelming majority of people who take their own lives—90 percent or more—had a mental disorder at the time of their deaths. Among people who die by suicide, the most common disorder is depression, though bipolar disorder and substance abuse are also risk factors. Often, these illnesses are undiagnosed or untreated at the time of death.
Note that I’m calling them illnesses. The same way that pneumonia is an illness. But with mental disorders, it gets thorny, because “it’s in your head.” Except it’s not. Researchers have shown a link between a risk of suicide and changes in brain chemicals called neurotransmitters, like serotonin. This physiological condition causes a mental (and physical) reaction that can make you feel truly dreadful, and, like pneumonia, if left untreated, in extreme cases, can be fatal.
Thankfully, there are treatments, usually a mix of mood- stabilizing medications and therapy. Refusing treatment for depression or a mood disorder is akin to getting a pneumonia diagnosis and refusing to take antibiotics and go on bed rest. And doing what Meg and Suzy did? That would be like getting a pneumonia diagnosis and then going online for help that advises you to smoke a pack of cigarettes a day while running in the rain. Would you ever follow that kind of advice?
Not every person who suffers from depression will be suicidal. The vast majority won’t. And not everyone who has a thought about what it would be like to die is suicidal. When Richard says, “Everyone goes there,” I think he is right. I think everyone has days or weeks so lousy, they fantasize about simply not existing. This is different from having suicidal thoughts taking over your head, having the thoughts become plans, the plans become attempts. (For a list of specific warning signs and risk factors, go here: http://www.afsp.org/understanding-suicide/warning-signs-and-risk-factors.)
Like Cody, like Richard, I have gone there. I’ve had my days. But I’ve never seriously considered suicide. Which isn’t to say my life hasn’t been touched by it. Someone very close to me attempted suicide long ago. He got help, and went on to live a long and happy life. If suicide is a sliding door of might-have-beens, in Suzy and Meg’s case, I see the ghosts of their lives unlived, and in this other case, I see the flipside: a happy, full life that might never have been.
Life can be hard and beautiful and messy, but hopefully, it will be long. If it is, you will see that it’s unpredictable, and that the dark periods come, but they abate—sometimes with a lot of support—and the tunnel widens, allowing the sun back in. If you’re in the dark, it might feel like you will always be in there. Fumbling. Alone. But you won’t—and you’re not. There are people out there to help you find the light. Here’s how to find them.
If you are in pain and needing help, the first step is to tell someone. Parents, older siblings, aunts, uncles—find any adult whom you trust: a minister, a school counselor, a doctor, a nurse, a family friend. This is a first step, not a final one. It’s not enough to confide in someone. Once you tell someone, he or she can help you find the professional help and support you need.
If you cannot reach out to a responsible adult, or are unsure what to do next for yourself or a loved one, the National Foundation for Suicide Prevention has a crisis hotline for immediate support: 800-273-TALK.
The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention’s website (http://www.afsp.org) has a wealth of information, from risk factors and warning signs to important resources for survivors of suicide, including information on finding a support group.
LGBT youth account for a disproportionate number of suicides. If you are gay, lesbian, trans, bi, or queer, and are thinking of ending your own life, contact the Trevor Project (www.thetrevorproject.org). Their 24/7 hotline number is 866-488-7386.
To learn more about Suzy Gonzales, go to http://www.suzys law.com.
Acknowledgments
This is the place where writers tend to thank all the people who helped get a book made. But there’s a difference between thanking—a show of gratitude—and acknowledging—a recognition of a contribution. So this time, I’m going to try to stick to the true spirit of the word and acknowledge those responsible for bringing I Was Here to life.
I acknowledge Michael Bourret, whose advocacy, support, candor, and friendship makes me brave—and makes me want to be braver.
I acknowledge the entire team at Penguin Young Readers Group. This is our fifth book, and seventh year, together. At this point it feels like a marriage, albeit one with many sister wives (and even a few husbands): Erin Berger, Nancy Brennan, Danielle Calotta, Kristin Gilson, Anna Jarzab, Eileen Kreit, Jen Loja, Elyse Marshall, Janet Pascal, Emily Romero, Leila Sales, Kaitlin Severini, Alex Ulyett, Don Weisberg, and last but certainly not least, my publisher, editor, and friend, the wonderful Ken Wright.
I acknowledge Tamara Glenny, Marjorie Ingall, Stephanie Perkins, and Maggie Stiefvater, for reading drafts at critical times, and offering wise, thoughtful, and expansive feedback.
I acknowledge my Brooklyn Lady Writer™ friends, with whom I work, drink (coffee mostly), plot, and dream: Libba Bray, E. Lockhart, and Robin Wasserman. Tip of the hat to Sandy London, even though he’s not a lady, and to Rainbow Rowell, Nova Ren Suma, and Margaret Stohl even though they’re not Brooklyn.
I acknowledge my Brooklyn non-writer friends who help me keep it together: Ann Marie, Brian and Mary Clarke, Kathy Kline, Isabel Kyriacou, and Cameron and Jackie Wilson.
I acknowledge Jonathan Steuer for helping me to sound mildly proficient in computer geekery.
I acknowledge Justin Rice, Christian Rudder, and Corin Tucker for first inspiring me with their music, and then again with their generosity.
I acknowledge Lauren Abramo, Deb Shapiro, and Dana Spector for getting my work to a wider audience.
I acknowledge Tori Hill for being a magical elf in the night who gets things done.
I acknowledge the greater YA community—authors, librarians, booksellers. To quote the great Lorde: “We’re on each other’s team.”
I acknowledge Mike and Mary Gonzales for their grace and generosity.
I acknowledge Suzy Gonzales, the spark of this book. I would’ve preferred to know her, not the character I invented because of her. Suzy’s parents tell me that in life she always tried to help people. In death, too, perhaps.
I acknowledge all of the women and men who have struggled with depression or mood disorders or mental illness and suicide, and have found a way to cope, and better yet, to thrive.
I acknowledge all the men and women who have struggled with depression or mood disorders or other mental illness and suicide, who have not found a way to cope, and who have succumbed.
I acknowledge the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (www.afsp.org) for tipping the scales in favor of the thriving, and for helping us to understand this complicated condition better.
I acknowledge my parents, siblings, in-laws, nieces, and nephew for all their myriad forms of support.
I acknowledge Willa and Denbele for their ferocity and their love.
I acknowledge Nick, for being here, with me.
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Gayle Forman, I Was Here
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