I'm the Luckiest

I flung my paper airplane over the balcony and watched as it made a two-foot circle and landed near my feet. The people in the seats near me laughed and clapped their hands. Someone said, "Go on, try again -- you can get the trajectory right." 

I smiled, shook my head, and returned to my seat next to my wife Amy. I asked her if she saw my epic fail, and she laughed and nodded. To be fair to me, I knew my paper airplane didn't have a chance to make to make it to the stage. Not because it was too far away; there were others throwing from the balcony who made it. I just forgot how to make my paper airplane more streamlined. Mine was riddled with mis-folds and a mistrust from the beginning that it wouldn't fly very far. And it didn't.

It was a fun date night for Amy and I, though. We went to see the Ben Folds, a singer-songwriter, amazing pianist, and alt-rock legend from the 1990's. He's one of my favorites and we were not disappointed. It was just him and a piano, no band. This was his Paper Airplane Request Tour, meaning, during the second half of the show, you could write requests on a piece of paper, fold it into a paper airplane, and try to get it to fly onto the stage. He would then pick them up randomly and decide to play the request or not. 

But through all the great music, something bothered me. Something that had happened earlier in the week. There was a teenage boy who attended our daughter Beatrice's high school who had committed suicide. He was a junior and a football player, but other than that, we didn't know him or his family. It was still so sad. We talked about it at dinner with both our kids, of course reminding them that they could always talk with us about anything. 

The next day at school Beatrice told us that the boy's suicide impacted many of the students and the teachers alike. She said it was a somber day and was glad to be home for the weekend. I told both Beatrice and her sister Bryce that I had a good friend take his own life the year after I finished high school. It was the first funeral I had ever attended and I was one of the pallbearers, too. That part I didn't tell them, only because it was sad enough discussing suicide with our teens. 

One in five high school students seriously considered attempting suicide in 2023, according to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). We feel like we have open and solid relationships with our teens, but it's something we think about when our kids struggle with anxiety and stress. Something I didn't tell my kids yet is that I was that junior high school student once who was dealing with a lot of anxiety and overwhelming existential darkness that I didn't understand at the time. Suicide was an alternative that crossed my mind.

Luckily, I didn't end my life, even though luck didn't have much to do with it. Deep down I knew I wanted to live, but it would take a lot more anxiety, flailing introspection, poor choices, help from others, and over a decade later to get it all together. By my early 30's the trajectory of my life had already changed dramatically, and after I met Amy, I continued to heal mentally and spiritually. There were still up and downs, but finally more ups than downs. Ups I manifested and were grateful for.

Which brings me back to seeing Ben Folds with Amy. One of the songs he played is called "Still Fighting It" and it's about having children and all the things you go through again with them that you experienced growing up. That one always makes me tear up about our own children now, and my heart ached again for the family whose high school son committed suicide last week. Blessings to him and to them. 

The song I wrote down on the paper that I turned into an ill-fated paper airplane was "The Luckiest" -- one of my favorite songs from Ben Folds and one that reminds me of my relationship with Amy. My paper airplane didn't make it to the stage, but luckily that was the next song he played. I was grateful to be there in that moment with my wife, just as I'm grateful to be present in every moment possible with our children, going through all the things with them that we went through when we were their age. 

I'm not sure I've ever believed in luck, but I do know that I'm the luckiest. 

"...And where was I before the day
That I first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it everyday
And I know..."

To Keep Our Souls Above Water

The weight was unbearable. And the gravity of every step we took increased exponentially. Once we exited the church into the sunlight, I choked in ragged crying jags that shredded my heart like broken glass, my face sweaty and flush. I felt defeated, flattened, unmoored from the little stability I had finally gained at that point in my life.

Less than two weeks earlier, I was sleeping in my dorm room when I got the call from a mutual friend.

"Kevin, Brian killed himself."

I remember half-hearing the news, still not quite awake, and I asked my friend what had happened.

"We don't know exactly, only that he shot himself."

That whole summer prior to me going away to college, our friend Brian had been getting more and more belligerent when he drank. And more and more depressed, something he hid from most of us except for his closest friend from our group and his girlfriend. There were rumors of money he owed and other kinds of substance abuse, but the reality was we really didn't know what was going on. He kept himself pretty well insulated from our questions and instead made sarcastic jokes about everything. He was charming and funny, and so we all assumed he was just going through a bad patch, but that he'd be okay.

I remember it was hard to be around him at the end of the that summer. Many times when we'd be drinking together, he'd get so out of the control that he started breaking stuff. One time he broke a window where we were having a party, cutting himself badly and not really comprehending how wasted he was.

And not caring either.

Which should've been a bigger clue for us -- but for me, I had my own set of anxieties and panic attacks and bouts of depression. Going away to college was a big step forward for me and I really wanted to get my proverbial shit back together again. I had already taken a year off after high school, struggling to keep my soul above water in the dark well of my heart.

My friend's funeral was the first one I had ever gone to, and being a pallbearer completely crushed me. All I could think about was me and my emotional mess and the moments I considered taking my own life. My dad was a cop, so there were plenty of guns in the house.

But I didn't, and over 30 years later I haven't forgotten the darkness. Instead, I now prefer the lightness of life, finding purpose and meaning in life. I'm thankful because I also have a loving wife and children, and supportive friends and family.

With the recent celebrity suicides of Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade, the subject of suicide is back in the spotlight. Based on a recent article I read referencing the CDC's Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report, "Suicide rates have increased in nearly every state over the past two decades, and half of the states have seen suicide rates go up more than 30 percent." And today, too many American men are dying lonely and alone, without close friends, and the suicide rate is again climbing for men over 50 years old.

It's complex and getting worse and America "currently has no federally funded suicide prevention program for adults."

My friend Brian didn't shoot himself in the head, he shot himself in the heart. Gun to the chest and pulled the trigger. His message in his suicide note and the way he did it made clear he felt like life had broken his heart, that he had broken his heart, his emotional well a poisoned viscous darkness. He was sorry for those he hurt, but obviously was too hurt himself to go on.

Whether you or someone you know has had longtime mental health issues, or if you've been subjected to domestic violence or sexual assault and are struggling with the aftermath, or if other sudden traumatic changes in your lives has unmoored you from stability, suicide prevention is a conversation we should all be a part of. We need to do away the stigma associated with emotional and mental struggles, and embrace the fallibility of being human, and the fact we can and do heal. Too many of us have lost ourselves in our own dark viscous wells, and with a little help from each other, from our communities and funded prevention services, and even from God, we might be able to keep our souls above water.