Jaromir Jagr still remains as one of the most iconic hockey
players of all time. He’s in his 40’s
now, very old by sports terms, very young by my terms, but he still produces,
still scores goals, still amazes so many of us every day with his unbelievable
hockey skills.
I still remember him for the statement that helped me truly
understand depression better than anything I’ve ever heard in my life. In the early 2000’s, Jagr was struggling with
his game, with his coach, with the fact that the Penguins just weren’t who they
had been. Early in his career, he had
the blessing of winning two Stanley Cups with his mentor, Mario Lemieux. He had been on top of the world, and in so
many ways, he still should have been and was on top of the world. He was one of the greatest hockey players in
the world. He had those looks, that
boyish charm, that mullet! He was dating
a super model.
Then he uttered that phrase that lit up the sports columns
and the talk shows throughout Pittsburgh – “I feel like I’m dying alive”. On one hand, you have to understand
Pittsburgh. It’s very much a
hard-working, blue collar town. When a
“privileged” athlete, who seems to have everything says something like “I feel
like I’m dying alive”, the consensus is along the lines of “suck it up
buttercup”. While Jagr’s comments
wouldn’t play well in many cities, Pittsburgh was probably one of the least
likely cities for this to work out. It
wasn’t too much longer that the Penguins mercifully sent Jagr on his way to the
Washington Capitals.
Years have gone by, and amazingly this statement has stuck
with me. Over the years, I’ve seen my
fair share of depression and ultimately suicide. My first experience was from stories. My Great Uncle Lee had been in World War II,
he was in the Battle of the Bulge, an epic battle that resulted in a
movie. Once he got back to the States,
he couldn’t handle real life, and he took his life. My early years were filled with grand stories
of my Great Uncle Lee, it was natural, he was a war hero, and he died
tragically.
Years later, I experienced my first taste of depression and
suicide. My Great Aunt Anna Mae finally
succumbed to what was tearing her apart, and she gave in. I had spent a great deal of my early years
staying at my Great Grandmother’s house on weekends, and my Great Aunt Anna
Mae took care of me. She also bought me
so many tickets to Pirate games, Penguin games, she never was married and never
had children, so she treated me like her own.
I remember when my Dad came home and told me what happened, that she had
taken her own life, I screamed and cried and pounded the wall in my bedroom to
the point of breaking the plaster. I
just couldn’t understand how someone could take their own life.
Unfortunately this wasn’t my last experience, and wasn’t my
worst experience. Many years later, my
brother Billy also took his own life. If
you talk to people who have been through suicide, there are so many stories. In many cases, no one saw it coming. In some cases, like in the case of Billy, we
saw the train coming down the track, but we had absolutely no clue how to stop
that train. Let me take this one moment
to caution anyone and everyone, don’t ever criticize someone who has been
through this. It may be easy to say what
could have been done, or what should have been done, but unless you’ve been in
the midst of it, you have no clue what to do.
We could see that Billy was probably headed toward an untimely end, but
we really didn’t know what to do about it.
It didn’t end there.
If you have read my blog posts, you know about the difficulties we faced
with our son Patrick. A few years ago,
we went through this same situation with Patrick, but thankfully, he never
fulfilled his plan or desire to commit suicide.
Every day was a challenge, every day presented a new worry when Patrick
didn’t respond to text messages, when he didn’t answer his phone. Where is he?
Is he OK? After he was in a
psychiatric hospital in Pennsylvania, six states away, we decided we wanted him
closer, we had him finish his undergraduate work in Georgia, close to us. Once it came time for him to go to graduate
school, we finally relented, and allowed him to go away, this time to Rhode
Island, many miles away. Were we
scared? Of course we were! Are we still scared? Of course we are! At some point, you have to let your children,
or anyone, live their lives.
So I go back to Jaromir Jagr’s comment, and again, that is
when it finally made sense to me, or really made it all not make sense. I know the mindset in Pittsburgh at the time,
and I shared it, was how in the world can a guy who is making millions of
dollars, who is one of the greatest hockey players in the world and is dating a
super model, make a comment like “I feel like I’m dying alive”. Exactly.
It doesn’t make any sense. And
that is depression.
I remember so many times talking to Patrick, and trying to
reason with him. You’re young, you’re
good looking, you’re talented, you can sing so beautifully, you can play
guitar, piano, French Horn, you are smart, you write beautiful poetry. Your parents love you, your brothers and
sisters love you, how can you be depressed?
Exactly. It doesn’t make any
sense. And that is depression.
Depression is a disease just like any other disease, just
like cancer, just like heart disease. It
takes a different form, but it’s real and unfortunately it is very real for
many of us. One of the things I’d often
say to Patrick to try to dissuade him from committing suicide was think about
what your death would do to your Mom, to me, to your brothers and sisters, to
your Grandmother. From all of the
situations I’ve seen or experienced, these types of arguments really fall deaf
on someone experiencing depression. The
pain the person is experiencing is much stronger than the empathy they feel for
the loved ones they will be leaving. The
argument just doesn’t work.
And that is depression.
We have to get past the stigma of thinking that depression is just
feeling sad or blue. It is a real
disease that inflicts and impacts many of us.
It has nothing to do with how beautiful we are, how talented we are, how
rich we are. It makes no sense. We also have to get past the stigma of
hiding depression, whether it is in ourselves or in our loved ones. While I would never minimize any other
disease, think about it for a second. If
you’ve lost a loved one to cancer or a heart attack, you would tell people with
very little hesitation how that loved one died.
If you lost someone to suicide, or really, to be more precise,
depression, would you just as easily tell people you lost a loved one to
depression?
The good news is that we can do something about it, and in a
great deal of cases, it is more treatable than other diseases. It takes compassion, it takes caring, and it
takes a great deal of listening and watching for the signs of depression and
potentially suicide. There are the
“easy” ones like excessive drinking, drug use, cutting, or making crazy
life-threatening choices with your life.
There are then the subtle ones, I learned over time that when Patrick
would tell me he was tired, what it really meant was he was depressed. It meant watching him a little more
closely. I’m sure there are many more
signs, but these are at least some that I’ve come to know.
Everyone we lose to depression is one loss too many. We may not be able to “cure” them of
depression, but we can possibly save them from destroying themselves and all of
the loved ones around them. Dying alive
is not living. Let’s help them see that
they have something to live for.
