Ideas in the Wild: How Jeff Romig Aims To Change the Stigma Around Suicide
In February 1996, Jeff Romig’s father died by suicide.
Until that moment, there was no sign that his father had been contemplating suicide. Steve Romig was always so driven. Hard-working. Successful. No sign of the inner turmoil of anxiety and depression Jeff was also feeling at 18 years old.
In Don’t F*cking Kill Yourself, Jeff Romig details his own battles against anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation while sharing his stories about the people, passions, and experiences that have kept him alive through mental illness, divorce, alcoholism, cancer, and the legacy of his father’s suicide. In Jeff’s own words, this is not a self-help book.
It is a memoir in service of two potentially life-saving ideas: that we can reduce the stigma around suicidal ideation by sharing our stories and that we can push through our darkest moments of suicidal thoughts by connecting our minds with the passions, people, and experiences that define the best parts of our lives.
I recently caught up with Jeff to learn more about his book and his journey.
What happened that made you decide to write the book? What was the exact moment when you realized these ideas needed to get out there?
For almost 25 years, I had been haunted by my dad’s final living moments as he sat in our 1987 Volvo station wagon on the side of our house in Columbia, SC, early in the morning of February 24, 1996.
What was he thinking about? What memories were running through his mind? Why weren’t they enough to stop the carbon monoxide swirling around him and seeping into his lungs?
The idea for DFKY originally came from those unanswerable questions combined with the theory that our lives flash before our eyes when we die. So, I not only wondered what he might have seen, but what I would see. That thought led to both the concept and the structure of the memoir.
The exact moment where the spark ignited a desire to share my ideas with the world came on Sunday, June 21, 2020 — my 25th fatherless Father’s Day.
We were a little more than two months into quarantine when I stumbled upon Lane Moore — a hilarious, Brooklyn-based writer and performer on Twitter. It was there I read about, and immediately ordered her book, How to Be Alone, which was essential pandemic reading for a divorced 42-year-old who lived alone and wasn’t dating at the time.
Not only was Lane’s book a hilarious and insightful read that gave me a new paradigm for being alone, but it made telling my own story seem approachable somehow. Lane showed me that I didn’t need to write a traditional “self-help” book to share my story. I only needed to be an authentic storyteller to the topic at hand who was willing to be vulnerable and share my own tips for staying alive through suicidal ideation in the same way Lane had shared tips for how to be alone.
Ultimately, through her kindness, I was able to hire Lane for a few sessions as a writing coach during DFKY’s initial development process. Lane helped me in many ways, but most importantly, she treated me like a peer and helped me discover a new confidence that was essential in deciding to truly pursue and embrace this project in the face of my own deep fears about delving into, and facing off against, my past trauma.
What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned going through the journey you share in the book?
The biggest lesson I’ve learned is also the book’s title: Don’t f*cking kill yourself. I’ve learned that if I stay alive, anything is possible.
The title came from a simple question, asked of me around a decade ago: “If you could only say ONE more thing to your dad, what would you say?”
That was my answer: “Don’t f*cking kill yourself.” It’s not meant to be edgy or irreverent or crass. Suicide is deeply serious. Its ripples can break our hearts and shatter our minds. So, with the utmost seriousness, that is exactly what I would say to my dad.
I almost died by suicide myself on Nov. 29, 2017. Instead, a few days later, on Dec. 3, 2017, I decided to get sober and try to find a path to the life I desired for myself. Because I didn’t truly want to die. I just didn’t want to live the way I was living.
Now, when I look back at the past four years and think about the good things that have come to pass in my life since then, I’m so grateful that I was able to find the courage to fight through the poison in my mind and the pain in my heart to stay alive.
But, don’t f*cking kill yourself isn’t just the answer to that question or the title of my memoir. It’s a mantra said in all seriousness that’s designed to get me through my darkest moments, so I stay alive, for myself and for the people who love me.
How will you apply this lesson in your life moving forward?
It would be fortuitous if writing a book meant my daily battle with generalized anxiety disorder, clinical depression, and bouts of suicidal ideation was automatically fixed through the process. But, naturally, I’m not fixed because I wrote a book.
Luckily, I did experience an abundance of healing through the writing process, especially in respect to my relationship with the trauma resulting from my dad’s suicide.
But, more than anything, I am now rooted in three key tools that help me navigate my mental illness and my darkest moments of suicidal ideation.
1. Creating conversation and sharing about suicidal ideation is critical, not only to keep the ideas in my mind from turning into pure poison, but to help reduce the stigma on having these conversations publicly with others whether in person or through social media.
2. To get through my darkest moments, I root myself in the people, passions, and experiences that bring me joy and keep me alive. These are the stories I share in DFKY. When I can connect with these memories, I find that I’m given the perspective needed to get out of my own head.
3. Don’t. F*cking. Kill. Yourself. Keeping this thought at the forefront of my mind leads me into remembering the first two tools, and then is the most powerful thing to remember in my darkest moments. If I stay alive, I can do anything.
