Trigger Warning: This article discusses death by suicide. Please use caution if this topic is especially difficult for you.
When I learned of Stephen (Twitch) Boss‘ death, I immediately feared the cause of death was suicide; my suspicion was confirmed a few hours later.*
Stephen (Twitch) Boss
As someone who has suffered from chronic depression, I am always deeply affected by news of a suicide. It makes me sad and feels, weirdly, like a near miss. Full disclosure: even in my undiagnosed days, I was never truly close to dying by my own hand. Still, I understand the kind of inexplicable sadness that causes otherwise healthy brains to lie to us, saying things like “Everyone would be better off without you,” or “No one would like you if they knew the real you,” or “You are a burden to the people you love.” These lies can be relentless and demanding. I imagine this is some of what Twitch experienced.
Twitch was Ellen DeGeneres’ sidekick/co-host on The Ellen Show from 2014 until it ended in 2022. He and his wife, Allison Holker, both accomplished dancers, had a YouTube channel and other social media outlets that showcased their talent. Watching the videos, you would think that Boss & Holker had not a care in the world. In addition to charismatic personalities and what seemed to be a symbiotic marriage, the couple had financial freedom, a luxurious home, three beautiful children, and future job prospects that promised ongoing success. Because Twitch’s public persona was so delightful, it likely never entered his fans’ minds that he could have struggles, let alone ones that would lead to his death. How could someone with a perfect life fall prey to mental illness?
The (im)perfect life
But here’s the problem: perfection is not humanly possible. Social media would have us believe that a perfect life is attainable. But all those posts? They are in essence highlights reels. They’re dressed-up snapshots of what a person chooses to share with the public.
Unfortunately, many of us mistake the façade for reality. We believe that the public presence is all there is to a person’s entire being. We do that with celebrities like Twitch, Robin Williams, and Naomi Judd. But we make similar assumptions about our family members, next-door neighbors, and co-workers. They seem fine to us; perfect even.
Meanwhile, we keep our own private stories out of the spotlight. Take a not-so-flattering selfie? Delete it immediately so no one ever sees it. Have a great picture of yourself? Make it even better! Slap a filter on it, tone down this color and amp up that one. Adjust the focus and lighting and boom! It becomes your profile pic. We know we argue with our mates, fail at achieving our goals, and disappoint our loved ones. We know we make bad grades, miss major deadlines, and scurry to shove clutter in already-full closets when guests arrive.
We are all broken
So why is it that we believe that other people have perfect lives when we keep our own dirty laundry hidden? Indeed, most people keep unbecoming aspects of their lives private and away from their news feeds whenever they can, especially if they are celebrities whose livelihoods depend on a branded image. Think about it: whenever there is some tragedy committed by an individual, you rarely hear his classmates, family members, or friends say, “Yeah, I totally saw that coming.” No. Usually people say, “Nicest person you’d ever meet,” “Would never have guessed he was capable of such a thing,” “She just kept to herself, always polite and respectful.”
The fact is we are all broken in different ways, whether we post about our brokenness or not. When we overlook that universal truth, we can also forget that our brokenness helps to create our beauty. And when that happens, humanity can become hypercritical, calling out the brokenness in others as if it’s some kind of anomaly that the rest of us don’t experience. And followers of Christ, while professing that all people are beloved children of God, created in the image of the Divine, are at least as guilty as anyone else when it comes to judging people. We fail to give the benefit of the doubt. We take offense at the slightest infraction. We think the worst of people, assuming we have the whole story of their lives when in fact we just have a snippet.
No easy answers
Look, there are no easy answers when it comes to death by suicide. I don’t mean to suggest we could fix the problem by holding hands around the campfire, singing Kum Ba Yah, and complementing each other to pieces. Actually, for most of us with chronic mental illness, the solution is therapy, medication, and behavior change; and these are things we have to do for ourselves–we have to take the initiative. Plus, we have to do them the rest of our lives. There is no viable get-mentally-healthy-quick scheme. It takes time. Lots of it.
Still, I think everyone, but especially people who follow the One who came to show us what Love is, could do a better job of improving each other’s moments. We could create a mantra to help us, something like “Maybe there is more to this story.” We could be slower to anger and quicker to forgive. We could slow down and be more intentional about connection. We could make eye contact and call one another by name. Sure, it’s not much. But these simple kindnesses can encourage people to face the next moments with hope rather than fear or desperation.
Finally, if you or anyone you know is experiencing suicidal ideation, tell someone. You can call 9-8-8 at any time of day to speak with a mental health professional. It’s always staffed, always available. Don’t believe the lies your brain tells you. Here’s the truth: You are absolutely completely loved–with all your ugly bits and secret shames–and there is nothing, not even one thing–that you can do about it.
*My deepest sympathies to Stephen’s family and loved ones. I am grateful for the light he shined from a distance through my video screens. The joy he shared reverberates still.
