This hits hard.
(Photo of Regina King and her son Ian Alexander Jr.)
Not just from a normal, empathetic perspective, but from a personal one.
The loss of Ian Alexander Jr. to suicide, of anyone to suicide, will always hit close to home for me because it could have always been me.
Suicide and I have been acquaintances for many years. It weaves its way in and out of my consciousness at irregular intervals. Sometimes, as the faintest wisp of a passing idea, sometimes as an all-consuming directive.
And I fight against it as it grows louder. Distracting myself, challenging the thoughts, reminding myself that they’re nonsensical.
But that doesn’t always work to make them go away. Sometimes my medication isn’t enough. Or lifestyle changes.
My last-ditch effort, since living in France, is focusing on my children. On what my suicide would do to them, how it would alter the trajectory of their lives.
Twice, that wasn’t enough.
I had to be hospitalized so I simply could not kill myself. And so that my medication could be adjusted in a safe environment. The first time I was severely opposed because I had been hospitalized against my will in the States and the experience had been violent. I only relented when my doctor promised me that I would be able to see trees from my room and walk around outside when I wanted to.
Hospitalization most likely saved my life. Twice.
I’m currently doing much better.
This morning, when I saw the news about Ian’s passing however, two things happened. The first was sadness for his mother, Regina King. The second was a cold, deep ache in my chest. Not unlike sadness, but closer to unfortunate camaraderie. I wish he hadn’t carried the load I understand. I wish that was something we didn’t share. Though I shouldn’t make assumptions about someone I never met. It’s just that the particular act of suicide isn’t one you come to lightly.
And now comes the part where I say clearly and concisely that no one should suffer fools who say that suicide is selfish. Speaking such words shows at best, misunderstanding, at worst, cruelty. Do not waste your time on people who say such things. Suicide is the desire for the pain to stop. I have no doubt that Ian was in intense pain, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.
Let’s just be kind to his family and pay close attention to and be gentle with those in our own lives who are struggling or who have struggled with suicidal ideation in the past.
And if you are struggling or have struggled in the past, I’m glad you’re here. I understand it’s hard. Keep doing what you’re doing. You can make it.