Celebrity Suicide’s Impact on a Suicidal Adult

Liz Blumenthal
Jul 22, 2017 · 5 min read

Gasping for air, my heart racing out of my chest, sweat pouring down my temples — I’m suffocating. I can’t catch my breath, despite how hard I try. I cannot stop shaking. My eyes dart around the room, desperately trying to grasp onto something familiar. Where am I? Who am I? What the hell is happening to me? Am I dying? Is it finally over? No. I take a few deep breaths and redirect my attention to my bedside. Saturday, July 22nd. Los Angeles, California. 5:32am. I reorient myself. Pressing my face into my comforter, I let out a lengthy sigh. An overwhelming feeling of dread blankets my entire being. Why the fuck am I still here? What is the point? Why has this sick world forced to suffer through another day?

My first memory of being suicidal was at the tender age of 7. My parents had recently divorced, the custody battle was ugly, and I was stuck in the middle of it. I convinced myself I couldn’t handle it. There was no purpose. I wanted my life to end. I may have said something about it to my mother, I can’t really remember. Regardless, I was swiftly placed into therapy. I was relentlessly bullied through my entire schooling. I had lunch with a guidance counselor in elementary school because I had no friends, and come to find out, because I had severe anxiety. Middle school was worse. The bullies went from name-calling to direct threats. I once had a kid tell me he was going to burn my house down and continue to leave threatening notes in my locker. I was placed into special education with kids with severe developmental disabilities because I had trouble focusing (gee, I wonder why?). The special education teachers continuously told me I could not learn. I started getting into trouble. I screamed and cursed at my teachers. I was disruptive. I started cutting myself. The school district threatened to hold me back because I wasn’t meeting their standardized testing requirements. My parents placed me in a $20k/year private school my freshman year of high school to avoid the bullying. I got kicked out in less than 6 months because I was a truant. I was shuffled around to different alternative schools. I ended the last few months of my freshman year back at my home high school, with all the kids that used to relentlessly bully me. Nothing had changed, now they just had more fuel to add to that fire. I ended up at an alternative school for the rest of my high school career. I attempted suicide for the first time my sophomore year. I started doing drugs. I was placed into a psychiatric hospital and was diagnosed as bipolar and loaded with heavy anti-psychotic medications. I dropped out of school at the tail end of my senior year. Depression and suicide have always been present in my life.

Chester Bennington of Linkin Park was found dead in his home on July 20th of this year. He hanged himself. I liked Linkin Park as much as the next former angsty teenager, but wasn’t a diehard fan. But the influx of celebrity suicides over the past handful of years have had a really detrimental affect on me. Chester’s was just one of many that impacted me a lot because I could relate to them. As an example, in my early teenage years, I obsessed over Kurt Cobain’s suicide. I kept a copy of his suicide note in my bedside table. I was that fucking kid.

“On our last 3 tours, I’ve had a much better appreciation for all the people I’ve known personally, and as fans of our music, but I still can’t get over the frustration, the guilt and empathy I have for everyone. There’s good in all of us and I think I simply love people too much, so much that it makes me feel too fucking sad.”

This excerpt from his suicide note always hit home for me. Kurt was so often portrayed as such a depressed, selfish drug addict. His music reflected that. But he loved people. He loved people so much that it hurt. I had never known anyone like that. Like me. But that’s not what has gotten to me most.

In retrospect, the primary source of most of my own depression into adulthood is financial or social stress. But these celebrities — they seem to have it all. They have the money, the nice houses, the nice cars, adoring fans, and a job doing (presumptively) what they love. Sure, money doesn’t buy happiness. But it sure as hell doesn’t hurt. It’s always baffled me to see seemingly happy and usually healthy celebrities cut their own life short. Not only does it confuse me, but it typically will spiral me into a deepening depressive episode. If they can’t handle their own life, what purpose does my lousy one serve? Why would it matter if I was gone? What am I doing with my life? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be? Why am I still fighting?

Years of cognitive behavioral therapy has at least allowed me to appropriately react to those thought as an adult. Though it doesn’t make them any less painful. The ideations and urges are still there. I usually wake up every day wishing I hadn’t. Suicide is not the answer for me. Unfortunately, it is for some people. And knowing that will always continue to damage me, and others that struggle.

Be caring and considerate of other’s feelings. Tell the people you care about that you love them. Show interest in your friend’s hobbies. Check in on your loved ones. Offer a helping hand or a listening ear to those who need it. Everyone, regardless of social status of what they have in their bank account, struggles. We are all fighting our own battles. We all have demons. Be a beacon of light for someone that needs it.

If you or someone you love is struggling with depression or thoughts of suicide, please know there are resources to help. Trained professionals are available to help. The National Suicide Lifeline is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, by phone at 1–800–273–8255 or online by chat here. Keep fighting.

Liz Blumenthal

Written by

Your friendly neighborhood manic-depressive. @LizSaysOyVey on Twitter and most other places, too.

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade