In Light of Loss

It’s no secret that I’m a fan of YouTube gaming, and follow with great joy the likes of JackSepticEye, PewDiePie, and Markiplier. I enjoy their work, and will follow them outside of gaming as well, into comedy sketches–musical numbers–whatever. I love watching creative people enjoy themselves, and these people shine.

Two days ago or so now, Markiplier put up a notice that something very serious had happened, and he might not be able to make videos for quite a while. Checking around, I noticed that his editor Matt (also part of the YouTube channel Cyndago) also seemed to be in significant distress, citing something serious happening. I was understandably concerned, but kept silent, respecting their wishes for time before saying anything final.

Tonight, the word came out that Daniel Kyre, one of the members of Cyndago, had committed suicide.

I’ve never hid the fact that I struggle with depression. I’m on medication for it, and even then, I’m not always on top of it. It’s probably something I’ll fight with for most of my life. The meds make it easier, but it never really goes away. I’ve been in dark places where I thought that genuinely the best option was to just end everything and let the world go on without me. I haven’t been there lately, but I know that darkness.

I know how Daniel must have felt.

I’ve also lost friends to suicide. Several years ago now, when I was still in college, I lost a friend (distant, but still a friend) to suicide. Lee had fought with depression and disabilities for far too long, and never been able to catch a break. He couldn’t work, couldn’t get the system to help him, couldn’t find the answers. He overdosed on his medications and essentially live-blogged the experience as even then, the meds wouldn’t let him die.

I was a disaster, and I’d only had the honor of meeting Lee in person once.

I’ve thought my friends had been lost. I’ve called people frantically, just hoping to have them pick up the phone. I’ve stayed up late on the phone, talking a friend down from the edge, convincing him that his life mattered and that it was worth living. I’ve driven hours on end to stay with friends who had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to.

And I’ve had a friend call me to talk me down from the ledge as well. I’ll never forget that night, nor the words she told me.

I do not know the specific pain Matt and Ryan are feeling, knowing that their partner is now gone. I do not know Mark’s pain, losing a close friend and coworker. I do not know the pain of his family, knowing that they will never again speak to their son…brother. But I know the general pain. I know how it feels to lose those close to you. I know what it feels to be trapped in the darkness and not be able to imagine the way out. And I would not wish that pain on anyone.

I know that these words are easier said than done. However, if you are in that darkness–if you cannot find your way to any light–please reach out to someone. Anyone. A friend, a family member, an acquaintance. The girl who called me is not one of my closest friends; we do not speak regularly. But she knew the pain, and she wanted me to be safe. Sometimes that’s all you need. Don’t try to hide it within yourself. Don’t believe that you are weak for needing help climbing out of the hole. Knowing when you raise your hand and ask for help is so much stronger than you believe. and I know it’s hard to do that. I know that it took me crashing to the very bottom and having someone I loved more than anything leave me to the darkness before I could heal at all.

Tell those you love how you feel. Don’t wait until tomorrow. You may not get tomorrow.

Remind your friends you care. Even if they are the happiest people you know, that does not mean they feel that way inside.

Never suffer alone. We are out here, those who will support you, and you need only just let us know you need us.

Know that I am here for you. Even if we’ve never met, if we’ve never spoken, if I’m just words on a screen to you. If you reach out to me, I will be here for you. That I can promise.

My heart is with the Kyre family, as they struggle with the loss of their family member.

My heart is with Matt Watson, Ryan Magee, Mark Fischbach, and everyone else who worked with Daniel, and loved him as a friend.

My heart is with the fans of Cyndago, who will feel this pain in their own close way.

My heart is heavy tonight.

I woke up this morning, and remembered the dream I’d had the night before. I dreamed I checked my phone and saw that the announcement had gone up that there had been a burglary, and that was why Mark wasn’t making videos. That it was something physical, material, that had been lost. I was so relieved to know that it wasn’t anything worse–it wasn’t a sickness, or a death. Of course, no such word had gone out this morning. And now tonight I know why.

I wish my fears had been wrong. I wish my dream had been right. I wish it was that simple.

RIP Daniel Kyre. May you find the peace you lost here.