The Things You’ll Miss

I hope this blog finds you well, and if it does not, that the next one will find you better. Recently, I wrote and gave a TedTalk for my class, Practicum in Literary Arts;  a few of my peers expressed that they were moved by it, so I wanted to share it here, just incase somebody out in the world needs to hear it.

Trigger Warning: Discussion of depression, suicidal ideation, and suicide.

Before we start, I would like you to watch the first two and a half minutes of a TedTalk, actually. If you have time afterwards, or even now, I would highly recommend watching the entire thing; it’s really powerful stuff.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1QoyTmeAYw

The speaker is named Mark Henick, and I stumbled across him at the age of thirteen, when I reached my first of many valleys caused by my depression. I wouldn’t be diagnosed until the week after my seventeenth birthday, but even then, I had the distinct feeling that something was wrong with me, that I didn’t navigate the world like other people did. Though it took me years to process how this discussion affected me, I found myself crying into my unwashed pillows for what felt like the dozenth time that week.

I lost a large part of my life to convincing myself that there was something irrevocably wrong with me, that I had to be a blip in the world because there was no way that people were expected to live like this. I made a habit of observing everyone around me, and each time I noticed a genuine laugh, or that flicker in someone’s eye when they are taking a moment to appreciate where they are, it felt like a slap in the face. I crawled into myself, the person I despised the most, and bitterly questioned why I couldn’t just be happy and normal, why I couldn’t just want to live. Having someone verbalize a feeling as overwhelming as suicidal ideation provided me with a sense of relief, but it also infected my mind with a new anxiety.

Nobody suspected me, and for a while, I didn’t know to suspect other people of feeling the same way I did. All across America, millions of people were in the dark, isolating trenches of this mental illness with me, and here I was, naively telling myself that I was the exception, that I was broken far beyond repair, that my illness made me a burden.

When you have clinical depression, it feels like a second nature to tell yourself that while other people in the same situation deserve to live, but you don’t. That they will recover, but you won’t ever be able to. That they deserve health and happiness, but you don’t. Perhaps it comes from the subtle narcissism that we all possess, or our inability to see the world outside our dark, tightly closed bubbles of perception, but this attitude of being the exception in circumstances like these can be deadly. After hearing Henick’s talk, I spent entire nights falling down the rabbit hole of suicide survivor stories, obsessively listening to them recount their experiences and how they came out from it. I felt proud of them, like a teammate on the sidelines watching their friend score the winning point, but one thought ran incessantly through my mind: “That’ll never be me.”

Because I know my story may not be enough to inspire you into believing that you’ve got a chance, I won’t talk about myself anymore. I’m going to talk about you.

I don’t think I need to give you the spill about your loved ones missing you, we all know that part of it, but I do want to emphasize something to you. With the way film and media has portrayed, we as a generation have the subconscious notion that we will bear witness to the aftermath of our own self destruction. Countless series depict victims of suicide as spirits or hallucinations who return to their communities to guide their loved ones as they grieve. I don’t know you, or what you believe in, so it’s unfair of me to say what will or will not happen to you after you pass. However, I will be bold enough to give this general statement: you will not come back as yourself. This is not some corny Netflix drama. You will not roam the halls of your high school, talking to your peers who miss you, or offering advice to your friends when they deal with the complications of your suicide. You will not observe people’s reactions to your death, then decide whether or not you want to ‘follow the light’ or undo your decision. You will be eternally separated from this plane of existence and from everyone and everything who adores and needs you.

Your friends and family will not be the only people mourning you. It’ll be the college roommate who your friend sobs in agony to after they accidentally played your favorite song. It’ll be the friend of a friend who puts his hand over his heart when he sees the empty chair left for you at graduation. It’ll be a coworker asking around the office why your father looks so distraught every time he glances at the framed photograph of you on his desk. It’ll be your first love’s fiancée finally hearing the real reason they don’t like talking about those who came before her. It’ll be the junior who asks the class who’s mug has been sitting untouched since the beginning of the year. It’ll be the parents trying to coax their child out of bed after she spent the past week crying into the hoodie you loaned her on a rainy day, and it’ll be her unknowing brother asking why he hasn’t seen you around the house lately. It’ll be the new neighbor who notices your pets lying in the living room, patiently waiting to hear the sound of you tossing your shoes into the corner of the hallway. It’ll be anyone and everyone who interacts with the people you care about after you’re gone. You’ll be cheating them out of the privilege to know you as the radiant person you are instead of the occasional reminder of a dreary statistic.

But, it’s not just about them. It’s about you, and it’s about how you will rob yourself of all of the pockets of joy in your life. You’ll never watch your favorite shows in search of nostalgia, nor will you see the glow on your parents’ face when you agree to start watching that new series with them. These complex, important characters you dreamed up will never have their stories told, and you won’t feel the satisfaction of completely submerging yourself in a story. Your usual spot at the treasured, local restaurant will sit empty and cold, and never again will you feel the strain of suppressing the smile that forms on your face when the pretty waitress remembers your order. You will not be able to gaze at the face of your soulmate and wonder how someone could be so beautiful. You won’t laugh until your sides ache and your lungs are left empty. You won’t feel warm sunlight grazing your skin on chilly mornings, nor will you rest in the shadow of a large, seemingly endless tree. You won’t watch your siblings nor your children experience those big life moments, and you won’t be able to congratulate your loved ones when they accomplish the things they never thought they could do.

There will be no more long car rides with your best friend, nor will the two of you ever sing karaoke together again. No more smile lines and flushed cheeks. No more of the adrenaline that pumps through your veins when your favorite artist is about to come on stage at a concert. No more peeking around your classmate’s heads in the lunch line to see what food the cafeteria workers are serving. No more intertwined fingers and stolen glances. No more of your roommate waking you up to watch the sunrise, nor the sunset. No more music, and no more dancing alone in the bathroom to your favorite songs. No more you.

If I can say anything to you, it’s that you are worthy of these things and everything else that brings you joy. You deserve every ounce of happiness that you have and will attract in your existence. You are not baggage, nor are you simply the extra weight on someone else’s shoulders You are not a stain on the lives of others, and you are not hampering anyone by existing in shared spaces with them. The people in your life care for you deeply, even and especially, when what you’re dealing with is straining your relationships with them. They want you here with them, and they’ve never thought of you as a mistake, or a burden. I want you here, and so does everybody else reading this post.

I know how difficult it is for you to believe these things, and that’s okay. I’m not asking you to change your entire perception after a five minute conversation, but I am asking you to take the small step of reminding yourself that you do hold value in the world, and that you will miss so, so many things if you chose to end your life here. It feels impossible, I’m sure, but if you just keep going, one day, I promise, you’re going to reflect on where you are in life and say to yourself, “I didn’t know I could be this happy.” And trust that you will feel happy again. You will find yourself and set a path for yourself in the world. Your life will be fulfilling, and you will do meaningful things in your lifetime. You will evolve far beyond from the person you are in this valley, and your circumstances will change for the better. Slowly, you’ll begin to recover, and life won’t seem inescapable anymore. Seek professional help, if that’s an option for you, and if it isn’t, just talk to somebody, anyone who can provide you with compassion and support. The world is rooting for you to live the long, beautiful life you were meant to have, so while you’re in the valley, or in the darkest of perception bubbles, remind yourself what you’d be sacrificing and of the things you’ll miss.

Author: Sydney Knotts

“A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute freedom. He has no master except his own soul, and that, I am sure, is why he does it.” — Roald Dahl View all posts by Sydney Knotts