When I saw the news of Ned Vizzini’s death, I initially thought of his family and friends. I’ve been to more funerals for suicides than I’d like to admit and do not wish that grief on anyone. Still, I did not know him personally. (We did share a love of Guns N Roses, though I’m not sure that makes people soul mates.) But as a YA writer who also addresses mental health issues, particularly anxiety and depression, his suicide struck me sharply.

I’ll be honest: his suicide made me pause. I got snagged on the idea that people who suffer from mental health issues might see his suicide as a negation of his message, as an undermining of his work, as a sign that anything he’d ever said about things getting better could all be dismissed with a cynical, assured wave of the hand. He openly and honestly discussed his own mental health, and his work reached thousands of readers who struggled with mental health issues. So, how could one reconcile his suicide with his message?

It’s actually not that hard because it’s not really necessary to reconcile the two. His work will continue to reach people. Maybe when one  sees someone like Ned Vizzini — who was succeeding professionally — and think that they aren’t suffering. His suicide — all suicides — remind us that there’s no way to “man up” about depression. There’s no way to will one’s self out of it.

Further, it’s not just teenagers who suffer from depression; adults suffer. Depression can get easier to manage if one finds the right therapies and medications, but one does not get cured. Depression doesn’t go away. I haven’t been told of a cure. Talking about it can help. Therapy, medication, exercise, sunlight, even alien technology — all of these things might help.

Something Vizzini’s suicide has affirmed for me is that I must continue to be careful of how I speak about mental health.

When I get emails from readers who struggle with anxiety, depression, and suicide — readers who appreciate books that try to make people feel less alone — I try to respond positively but honestly. The word I want to emphasize, always, is management.

But maybe it’s too much pressure to be a YA author who talks about these things when I, and countless others, still fall into the maw of depression. For me it happens less than before I got therapy and medication, but it still happens. It’s easier to work through depression because I have techniques and a support system, whereas when I was a 16-year-old I felt alone and broken.

So when I paused about Vizzini’s suicide, I thought about what it meant not why he did it. I don’t know him and don’t know what he thought or felt. His motive is not something I’m entitled to and wouldn’t really do much to make me feel better about the facts. In the end, I didn’t conclude that he acted irresponsibly in terms of his work. I didn’t conclude that he’d negated his work. I nodded. His suicide confirmed what I need to remember: management might get easier but living with depression does not.

If I pretend that I’ve got it all figured out, that my management system always works, that I never ever feel depressed or suicidal, then I’m not an advocate for honest discussion of mental health. I’m lost in a fantasy. It’s okay to get lost in stories, of course, but getting lost in a message or platform, even with good intentions, would be a disaster.

Ultimately, I would prefer that Vizzini’s suicide need not be discussed; I’d prefer he’d have gotten through that day and every day after. But we can look at it this way: he got through all the days before that, the good ones and especially the other bad ones. He’d been strong (or strong enough) for a long time. Even more importantly, he had energy and focus to create art that spoke to thousands of people who dealt with similar issues. He stood in front of audiences and spoke honestly. That took strength and gave strength to others. What else do we need to know?

–Evan Roskos

January 2nd, 2014

Learn more about Evan on his website www.EvanRoskos.com.  Or follow Evan on Twitter @EvanJamesRoskos.