Today is publication day for my new novel, The Mind Reels. In the book, the protagonist Alice confronts the possibility of killing herself, as many people with bipolar disorder do. Somewhere between 30% and 60% of us attempt suicide in our lives; something like 10% to 20% of us succeed. I’m here today to explain to the younger people out there why you should not attempt to kill yourselves. The reasons you’re probably thinking of are good reasons, but that’s not what I’m talking about today. The reason you shouldn’t kill yourself is that it’s not going to go down the way that you think, the way that you hope. You’re thinking that it’s going to be some grand statement, some romantic and artistic gesture that will make everyone understand you and regret everything they didn’t do for you. I’m here to tell you that that’s not true. The truth is that, if you kill yourself, people are going to make fun of you, your peers and even your friends, perhaps especially your friends, and then they’re going to forget about you. And those are good reasons why you shouldn’t kill yourself. It’s not going to be the way you’ve imagined.
“The truth is that, if you kill yourself, people are going to make fun of you, your peers and even your friends, perhaps especially your friends, and then they’re going to forget about you.“
And, therein lies the reason why you want to die: You’re surrounded by abusers.
Never listen to them again. Never obey them again. And, never trust a quack who regards them as “sane” people.
A very close friend of mine who was dying of cancer told me something very similar to what you've posted here. "You know, for the first three weeks, everyone in the world is reaching out to you," he told me. "You hear from people you went to high school with! They're all asking, 'How can I HELP?' It plants a false hope—because in a very short while, that interest goes away & you're left all on your own, struggling with the insurmountable. It's best not to tell anyone you don't strictly have to. It's best NOT to reach out."
Another great way to not feel like killing yourself is calling a suicide hotline. Not because they'll make you feel better about your life, because they won't, but they're good at making you feel stupid for wanting to die. Somehow, talking your process through with the hotline person makes you realize that suicide is possibly the dumbest idea you've ever had in your life.
Freddie's post is a great explanation of why it's stupid.
Not everyone kills themself to make a statement. Sometimes it's just pure despair, with no concern for what anyone else may think about it. These people tend to be more successful (for lack of a better word) with the act itself. But you have a good point about one thing: people move on.
A long time ago a close friend of mine took his own life. The last woman he had dated before this treated him badly. And she knew it too, because she tried to seek some measure of consolation from me at his funeral. I didn't give her any, despite knowing she wasn't the only reason he did what he did. Or even a primary reason really. But she was 'a' reason.
Several years later I was working a wedding reception as a bartender. The wedding party had to pass by the bar to get into the reception area. And when she walked in with her wedding dress on, our eyes momentarily locked as she walked by. She paused a moment, and her smile faded almost imperceptibly. She then looked down, forced herself onward, and for the rest of the reception was as happy as any bride would be on her wedding day. Although she never once came to the bar for a drink.
I remember sitting outside the venue taking a smoke break on a street bench. Thinking about how I still think about my friend every day. And realizing this woman probably moved on with her life the day after my friend died. I wasn't angry about it really, I was envious. Envious she obviously didn't have to deal with his memory every day, and promptly got on with her happy life. She moved on.
No one ever made a disparaging remark about my friend after he died. We were all just foundering in grief. But eventually most people moved on, as one needs to do in order to fully live life. His mother never did, and I never quite did either. But most people did. The world doesn't wait for anyone, it moves on. It's only some people that don't.
As I finish this I realize I used your article and comment section for my own unresolved and selfish issues. I do apologize for that Freddie. But thank you for writing it anyway.
I had failed to order before this; things kept coming up. But I put in my order today. I'm looking forward to reading it and I hope it does well for you!
My brother and life-long best friend killed himself two years ago. It was an old school suicide. He wasn't depressed, it wasn't a cry for help. He had been running a fraudulent operation in his firm and the jig was up and he couldn't take the shame.
So allow me my hot take: suicide IS selfish, or at least it can be, because the rest of us had to pick up the pieces after his death. And I miss his stupid fucking asshole self every single day.
I’m reading The Mind Reels now. Will you do an online Q&A at some point?
Sure
assumed initially when reading the title that this was gonna be about mark fisher
“The truth is that, if you kill yourself, people are going to make fun of you, your peers and even your friends, perhaps especially your friends, and then they’re going to forget about you.“
And, therein lies the reason why you want to die: You’re surrounded by abusers.
Never listen to them again. Never obey them again. And, never trust a quack who regards them as “sane” people.
When I was 15, a kid in my grade committed suicide. I didn't know him personally.
Come senior year, we had to vote for class characteristics for the yearbook. I voted him most changed since 8th grade, and quietest.
So yeah, there's one data point in your favor.
Congratulations on Publication Day!!!
A very close friend of mine who was dying of cancer told me something very similar to what you've posted here. "You know, for the first three weeks, everyone in the world is reaching out to you," he told me. "You hear from people you went to high school with! They're all asking, 'How can I HELP?' It plants a false hope—because in a very short while, that interest goes away & you're left all on your own, struggling with the insurmountable. It's best not to tell anyone you don't strictly have to. It's best NOT to reach out."
The world has a very short memory.
“Don’t give your pain the ending it wants. Stay. “ Well said, Freddie.
I got my copy in the mail yesterday, 30 pages in and find it compelling so far. I will post a review to Good Reads when finished.
Wishing you all the best Frederick!
Reminds me of the reactions of some to Mark Fisher's suicide as recounted by Angela Nagle in 'Kill All Normies'.
Another great way to not feel like killing yourself is calling a suicide hotline. Not because they'll make you feel better about your life, because they won't, but they're good at making you feel stupid for wanting to die. Somehow, talking your process through with the hotline person makes you realize that suicide is possibly the dumbest idea you've ever had in your life.
Freddie's post is a great explanation of why it's stupid.
Beautifully written.
The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
Not everyone kills themself to make a statement. Sometimes it's just pure despair, with no concern for what anyone else may think about it. These people tend to be more successful (for lack of a better word) with the act itself. But you have a good point about one thing: people move on.
A long time ago a close friend of mine took his own life. The last woman he had dated before this treated him badly. And she knew it too, because she tried to seek some measure of consolation from me at his funeral. I didn't give her any, despite knowing she wasn't the only reason he did what he did. Or even a primary reason really. But she was 'a' reason.
Several years later I was working a wedding reception as a bartender. The wedding party had to pass by the bar to get into the reception area. And when she walked in with her wedding dress on, our eyes momentarily locked as she walked by. She paused a moment, and her smile faded almost imperceptibly. She then looked down, forced herself onward, and for the rest of the reception was as happy as any bride would be on her wedding day. Although she never once came to the bar for a drink.
I remember sitting outside the venue taking a smoke break on a street bench. Thinking about how I still think about my friend every day. And realizing this woman probably moved on with her life the day after my friend died. I wasn't angry about it really, I was envious. Envious she obviously didn't have to deal with his memory every day, and promptly got on with her happy life. She moved on.
No one ever made a disparaging remark about my friend after he died. We were all just foundering in grief. But eventually most people moved on, as one needs to do in order to fully live life. His mother never did, and I never quite did either. But most people did. The world doesn't wait for anyone, it moves on. It's only some people that don't.
As I finish this I realize I used your article and comment section for my own unresolved and selfish issues. I do apologize for that Freddie. But thank you for writing it anyway.
Don't be sorry, man. That was a very poignant story. Thank you for sharing.
I had failed to order before this; things kept coming up. But I put in my order today. I'm looking forward to reading it and I hope it does well for you!
Freddie, not sure if this book was on your mind as you wrote the concluding paragraph here, but in case you haven’t seen it: https://yalebooks.yale.edu/book/9780300209365/stay/
It’s excellent, imo. And I’m grateful to both you and Hecht for your realism and clarity on this vital issue.
Waiting for my copy of The Mind Reels to arrive in the mail—eager to dig in!
I really loved this post, having lived with clinical depression for approximately two-thirds of my life.
And, yes, my copy of The Mind Reels is sitting atop the stack of unread books beside me.
My brother and life-long best friend killed himself two years ago. It was an old school suicide. He wasn't depressed, it wasn't a cry for help. He had been running a fraudulent operation in his firm and the jig was up and he couldn't take the shame.
So allow me my hot take: suicide IS selfish, or at least it can be, because the rest of us had to pick up the pieces after his death. And I miss his stupid fucking asshole self every single day.