FEAR No. 056 – Shadows & Forewarnings

When word broke that Andrew Koenig – known to most of the world as “Boner” from the television show Growing Pains – took his own life after weeks of being reported missing by family and friends, it took me a long while of sitting and thinking before I could talk about it. Like everyone else, it’s troubling me. I’m sure, if you’ve read enough of my drivel here, you can imagine why.

Most want to know how this happened. How could he have been depressed for so long and no one know, or have done anything about it. How was he so far gone and totally unreachable that no one could save him. Was there an event that triggered it.

And then, Marie Osmond’s 18-year-old son.

The words escape me again because… 18.


Looking at the two cases – one aged 41; the other much, much too young – you begin to wonder what’s in the Hollywood Kool-Aid. But you can’t. Because it’s not the Kool-Aid. In both instances, this man and man-child dealt with one key factor and it wasn’t Hollywood. Depression is real. There’s ad campaigns, and therapy, and rich pharmaceutical companies harboring on this as truth.

I’ve touched on depression and suicide before by rehashing my own experiences with both. I was lucky. I lived to tell the tale after two attempts. I wasn’t looking for attention. I wasn’t looking for solutions. I was looking for an end. No matter how I achieved it, ending the pain and weird thoughts and insomnia and panic attacks was the ultimate goal.

For the families of both victims, my heart goes out to those left wondering what more they could have done. How, maybe, their loved one would still be around had they reached out a little harder. I don’t want to say those suffering with depression can’t be helped, and I can’t relieve the guilt by telling those left behind that depression and suicidal thoughts are worse than shoving cotton wads in someone’s ears and eyes; that, despite your best efforts, sometimes nothing you do is enough. Because you want to hope beyond everything that you saw this coming. That there were forewarnings. That you weren’t oblivious. And, to all those things, I say… Sometimes you can’t. Sometimes there aren’t. And you weren’t.

Out of my experience, whenever I can get BFam to talk about it with me (which isn’t often), he says it’s the one thing he blames on himself – not seeing it. He could have stopped it. He should have stopped it. He would have stopped it. And, even if he could have, I was so far gone, I would have found another opportunity. That’s how it works. You get pulled from the ledge. Loved ones offer comforting words. Therapists offer billable hours and scripts. And there you are. Nodding your head. Agreeing with it all.

Numb.

I wish this was a FEAR of encouragement. But, like I said, I’ve been sitting with this for days trying to find an upside. Trying to articulate a positive. How to understand the turning point that brought me out of darkness long enough to survive. And I know what that point was for me, but everyone’s turning point is different. I don’t want families of those suffering with depression to think I’m telling you to give up. Never give up. But, if you can help it, know that if it fails… you didn’t.