.png)
A Chronic Connection
Over the past 15 years or so, I have been diagnosed with multiple incurable chronic illnesses (with a few others that go even further back). I always wonder how I should list them: alphabetically, chronologically, head-to-toe, in order of severity, or just randomly, as they come to mind. Let’s go A-Z here:
- Arthritis (rheumatoid, Sjögren’s, and osteo-)
- Autoimmune hepatitis
- Chronic migraine
- Dysautonomia
- Fibromyalgia
- Hashimoto’s disease (causing hypothyroidism)
- Hidradenitis suppurativa (HS)
- Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS)
- Metabolic dysfunction-associated steatohepatitis (MASH)
- Sarcoidosis (cutaneous, pulmonary, neuro-, systemic)
- Small Fiber Neuropathy
There are probably more that I’m forgetting, but those are the major ones, and I think that’s more than enough to make my point. Many of these conditions cause chronic pain, and with so many overlapping, I pretty much always hurt—though the location, type, and intensity of the pain vary.
There’s an old episode of House, M.D. (Season 5, Episode 12, “Painless”) that always sticks out in my mind. A patient is brought into the hospital in severe pain after a suicide attempt. Most of the doctors are quick to judge his actions and dismiss his pain, suggesting depression or, at best, a psychosomatic response. House, however, understands that it’s the opposite:
“He’s not in pain because he’s depressed. He’s depressed because he’s in pain!”
That episode aired in 2009. At that point, I’d already spent a year being dismissed by doctor after doctor who suggested I was “just depressed.” I wanted to blast that episode in every doctor’s office and paint the quote across every medical school classroom. It would be years before I got real diagnoses, but even now, the best my treatments can do is reduce the pain, not eliminate it.
So this episode is not pure fantasy. In fact, people who live with chronic pain are more than twice as likely to die by suicide as those without it.
Aside from the pain (and, to some extent, because of it), my chronic illnesses have led me to lose jobs, friends, and family, along with my health. They’ve cost me time, leisure, and independence. They have taken a toll on my social life, my appearance, and my financial situation.
And then there are the other symptoms. Fevers. Chills. Nausea. Dizziness. Weakness. Numbness. Digestive … issues. Sensitivity to light, sound, and smell. Weight gain. Skin lesions. Itch. Rash. Pins and Needles. Shortness of breath. Swelling. Loss of balance. Brain fog. Fatigue.
But others have it worse. I’ve required assistive devices to walk at times, but many chronic illnesses can lead to more significant, permanent losses. Some conditions affect memory, speech, or cognitive ability. Some lead to the loss of physical control of bodily functions.
Between the physical symptoms, quality of life losses, and emotional impact, it’s not surprising that suicide is more than three times more likely among people with chronic illnesses, with that incidence increasing with loss of ability. I can understand why so many people seek this way to end their suffering when nothing else seems to work. That understanding doesn’t make it any less tragic.
All in the Family
Touching even closer to home, my grandfather died by suicide when my mom was only eight years old. When I was young, I was told he died in a car accident, but I learned the truth years later. It wasn’t something that was talked about just a few decades ago, and surely it was far less so in 1960.
People tried to make my mom feel better, but their words left her scarred more than they could imagine. “God had a more important purpose for him,” they said. But what could be more important than his little girl?
As adults looking back, we know it wasn’t that simple. He was a soldier in World War II. I can’t even imagine the awful things he had to see, do, and live through. I’ll never know the trauma that haunted him for years as he tried to move forward and make a life with my Gram and their two children.
I never met my grandfather, but his choice to take this action - the need he felt to do this - left ripples in its wake that are felt generations later. His impact - and his loss - continue to affect my mom over 65 years later. I can only imagine how different all of our lives would be if only he had felt comfortable enough to ask for help.
But it’s so much bigger than us.
In 2024, 48,824 Americans died by suicide, and there were an estimated 2.2 million suicide attempts. Learn more about who is affected by suicide here.
Float (Like a Buttahfly) ... with me!
On October 17th, I will be joining hundreds of thousands of people across the country who are walking in the Out of the Darkness Community Walks to prevent suicide and support the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention’s mission to save lives and bring hope to those affected by suicide.
I’d love to have your support at this event in whatever way best suits you. Here are a few ideas:
- Walk with me: Visit my Buttahflies team page and click “Join Our Team“!
- Make a donation: Visit my personal fundraising page and click “Support Me“. No amount is too small to make a difference (or too big)!
- Spread the word: Share my page on your socials or with anyone you know who might want to make a difference!
All donations are 100% tax-deductible and benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP), funding research, education, advocacy, and support for those affected by suicide.
💙🦋
*If you are in a crisis, please call the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988 or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting 741-741.