That’s what this is - a national emergency with a different kind of head wound.”Įarly in the pandemic I interviewed mental health professionals for PGN on the impact of isolation on LGBTQ people. The data I’ve reported are staggering, but more staggering still is that in that same period we have done so little as a nation to address the epidemic of depression and other mental illnesses that impact one in five Americans.Īs one mental health expert told me, “If we had millions of people hemorrhaging in the streets from head wounds, we’d call it a national emergency. I have reported many news stories about depression and suicidality over the past 20 years in both queer and mainstream media. The CDC reports women 45 to 64 have had the highest increase in suicides between 19. Those numbers are double for women, even though more men commit suicide overall. The CDC cites suicide as the fourth leading cause of death among LGBTQ people 35 to 54. The numbers are also high among older LGBTQ people. In a 2016-2017 survey from HRC, 28 percent of LGBTQ youth and 40 percent of transgender youth said they felt depressed most or all of the time during the previous 30 days, compared to only 12 percent of non-LGBTQ youth. And new research released last year shows suicide is at a 30 year high. The Trevor Project reports that among self-identified LGBTQ people aged 10 to 24, suicide is the second leading cause of death. Suicide is common in America - the 10 th leading cause of death, according to the CDC. Another study released the same month showed nearly half of all LGBTQ youth consider suicide. The study appeared in JAMA Pediatrics and addressed non-suicidal acts of self-harm - cutting, bruising and burning - in adolescents and how incidences were more than twice as frequent among LGB youth due to homophobia, bullying and unsupportive family. In June 2019 I reported a story for PGN about the prevalence of self-harm among LGB adolescents. This pattern is heartbreakingly common among LGBT people. As is true for many LGBTQ people, my depression was exacerbated by the stress of coping with homophobia and discrimination.įor more than 20 years I practiced self-harm - the insides of my arms and thighs are a patchwork of fine white and pink scars - the marks of the razors I regularly took to my own skin in an attempt to release the pain caused by my depression. Soon after my release, the trauma of the treatment caused me to attempt suicide. I was then hospitalized in the adolescent unit of a Philadelphia mental hospital for conversion therapy. At 16 I was expelled from Philadelphia High School for Girls for being a lesbian. Depression is a national crisis as bad as COVID-19, but one which the nation’s broken healthcare system has yet to address.ĭepression is a chronic illness for many. I have often felt suicidal and have been grateful for the skilled care I am under and the support of those closest to me.īut as Tommy Raskin’s tragic death made clear, love and support isn’t always enough to save us. For the past year I have been being treated for PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). Suicide is the opt-out clause for crushing, irrevocable, unacceptable pain, be that pain physical or emotional or, as it is for most people suffering from depression, both. Sometimes dying is not the threat, but the promise. But sometimes, for those of us with depression, our brains rewire themselves. Our autonomic reflexes tell us, live, breathe, run, live. Suicide goes against the grain of our very DNA. The second-year Harvard Law student also had depression, a devastating and sometimes - as in Tommy’s case - fatal illness. Raskin (D-MD) and former Deputy Treasury Secretary Sarah Bloom, wrote, “Tommy Raskin had a perfect heart, a perfect soul, a riotously outrageous and relentless sense of humor, and a dazzling radiant mind.” In a gripping Medium post eulogizing their son and detailing his illness, Tommy’s parents, Rep. “Please look after each other, the animals, and the global poor for me,” said the note, signed: “All my love, Tommy.” My illness won today,” Tommy Raskin wrote. His suicide note was short and painfully succinct: “Please forgive me. On New Year’s Eve, Congressman Jamie Raskin’s son, Tommy, took his own life. The Trevor Project hotline is 1-86, and is also 24/7. If you or someone you know is at risk of suicide, The National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 1-80 and is 24/7.
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