Remembering David Foster Wallace

I know that you may be saying to yourself that you would never give up like Wallace did. Even if it's not against the tenets of your religion, suicide is unthinkable. You're throwing something away, you're giving up, it's a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I understand that, because I used to think the same way, and I realize that belief was very judgmental, given that I had no understanding of the situation. This mind-set of mine existed until my dysthymia (long-term, low-level depression) had started to veer off into major depression.

The pain of major depression is indescribable. This may sound silly if you haven't experienced it, but it is almost a physical pain. William Styron, who was an infinitely more eloquent writer than I, in Darkness Visible described its "suffocating quality, the feeling of being trapped in an overheated room". What an exquisitely accurate description. And imagine how desperate you would be to get out of that overheated room after thirty minutes. Imagine fifty or sixty years of that type of torture. I knew that I could not live that way for the next few decades, or even the next few years.

When we're in physical pain, we do everything we can to alleviate it. When it overwhelms us or wears us out, or both, even the most stubborn of us who absolutely abhors painkillers (as I, currently suffering from a kidney stone, will attest) will break down and take something to get some kind of relief. But what happens if nothing helps? In some cases, individuals with terminal diseases will choose to terminate their own lives, and very few people think less of them for it.

Although I never came close to suicide before my depression was diagnosed, I can completely empathize with Wallace's decision. What drove me to finally start taking antidepressants, even though I hated medication, was looking down the future decades and realizing that I wouldn't make it. Strictly speaking, I wasn't suicidal, but I think ultimately I would have arrived there. My antidepressant treatment was immediately successful. I was lucky. When I hear of someone who committed suicide, I always think, "That could have been me."

Now, I want to emphasize two things. One is that David Foster Wallace was in a small minority. Most people (80% or more) can be helped by one form of depression treatment or the other, or a combination. The second thing I want to emphasize is that Wallace did try to beat his depression with every tool out there. He survived for two decades in varying degrees of depression.

For some people, the minority of people whose depression cannot be alleviated or eliminated by medication, talk therapy or even shock therapy, suicide is often the only way out. For these people, depression can be a terminal illness. Even Wallace's family don't blame him, according tothe Salon article . Their reaction is much the same as the family of someone with an incurable disease. He hung on as long as he could, but he was in constant pain.

So, David Foster Wallace, rest in peace. I know that you are finding it for the first time in decades. I wish that things could have been different for you. I wish that nature and bad luck hadn't given you that wonky chemistry that wouldn't respond to treatment, and I hope that people who think you gave up never have to find out the hard way how painful depression can be.