In His Own Words: Maxwell Costes | Hero Origin Story
Maxwell Costes, Maryland Student-Athlete
9/8/2021
This week is National Suicide Prevention Week (Sept. 5-11) as part of National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. Maryland senior student-athlete Maxwell Costes of the baseball program shares his personal story in the latest In His Own Words.
Should you or a loved one need help, here are resources to help:
https://www.nami.org/get-involved/awareness-events/suicide-prevention-awareness-month
From my own experience,
The state of being suicidal is not necessarily scary. To be quite honest, in some ways it feels more...relieving. Now don’t get me wrong, from the outside looking in, seeing someone you love and care for struggle with suicidal ideation is terrifying. All humans, whether we are willing to admit it or not, have no understanding of the concept of death when our loved ones are framed within the context of it. Our parents, siblings, best friends, partners, and anyone else held close to our hearts, we don’t enjoy having to imagine a future where they are not in it. Subconsciously, we place a metaphorical block on any line of thinking that plans for their absence. Ironically, people who struggle with, have struggled with, or will struggle with actively being suicidal (myself included), experience this in a parallel sense in that, THEY cannot imagine a future that involves themselves.
I would describe being suicidal as the extreme end of emotional exhaustion. One by one, your reasons for wanting to exist seem to simply disintegrate in front of you, and as it moves farther along, it is being consumed by apathy towards life. Now the actual medical term for this is called anhedonia, which is the inability to feel joy or pleasure for things one usually finds entertaining. What is sort of tragically funny, is that while I was internally feeling as empty and worthless as possible, externally, the environment I found myself in could not have been more conducive to improving one’s mental health and self-confidence.
During my lowest point, I was playing in a summer collegiate league in New York in a town called Amsterdam. My success as a player earned me a sort of “celebrity-status” within the town, and there was nowhere I could go where I was not recognized, where people would not come up to me and take pictures or ask for autographs. However, instead of soaking up these positive experiences, no part of me, mind, heart, nor soul, could seem to attach to them. They all seem to simply phase through me, and I was left to feel as if none of it mattered anyway.
I enjoy telling this story because it perfectly encapsulates what my existence at this point was like. There was a game during the summer in which I hit four home runs and broke the league record for most home runs in a single season. What most people don’t know was that I almost did not play that day. I had only slept 3 hours the night before and I had woken up at 8am and lied in bed all the way to 2pm, I had not eaten anything, and I had actually called the head-coach and was about to make up the excuse that I was sick because I simply did not want to leave my bed, he did not pick-up and by the time he called back, I had already been forcibly dragged out of bed by my housemate (Paul Franzoni, I thank you every day for that and I love you, man).
This was my existence every single day, having to find reasons to force myself out of bed, having to find the energy to put on this facade that I was a happy-go-lucky kid who was loving and friendly to everyone, while in actuality, I was all but dead on the inside. It was also at this point, that I began to seriously abuse alcohol, to the point where I was drinking every night, usually to the point of inebriation. There were even times where I would bring alcohol with me, and begin drinking on the bus ride home as soon as the game ended. However, I still continued to play at a high level so no one questioned it, and I myself did not see a problem with it. The period of the summer after my freshman year to the end of the fall semester of my sophomore year was by far the worst I have ever taken care of myself. I had no impulse control, no discipline in my routines, and no sense of greater purpose. It’s no wonder why during this period I came to really understand what rock bottom is.
I have been on the verge of ending my own life twice, both being within the time period mentioned above. The first time was after we won the summer league championship and I was voted league MVP, the second, I was sitting on the patio overlooking Mckeldin Mall at 3am after going out with some friends. Both times I had been drinking and both times I was alone. There is something freakishly surreal in the moments when one is about to end their own life. It’s almost like I existed in this bubble outside of reality, and the only things present were me, the bottle of pills or knife, and the ground I was sitting on. In those two moments, I wasn’t scared, I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t upset, and I wasn’t doing it to make anyone feel guilty, I simply just did not want to be here.
If you ask me what it was that stopped me from going forward in both of those moments, I’d tell you that we have to rewind for a second and learn a little more about me. I have always been someone who has defined myself by all the things that I’m not. My work ethic, my discipline as a person, are all by-products of the abject fear of “not being” rather than “wanting to be”. Admittedly, I was probably suicidal, and experiencing anhedonia for way longer than I realize, most likely since starting high school, but I just wasn’t aware of what it was. I would excel in both sports and school, but none of it felt real to me. My anxiety of not being able to continue my success ruined anything I achieved. I think of it as if I was walking on clouds, every step I took, I was preparing myself for everything to fall out from underneath me. But if there was ever one thing that kept me going, it was the fact that I seemed to have this uncanny ability to make people feel better, the ability to just brighten the days of others.
So if you ask me what it was that saved my life both times, it was the thought that if I could not live for myself, then maybe I could live for other people. Maybe I could live so my teammates could howl in laughter at something I said. Maybe I could live so my parents, coaches, and mentors could feel proud knowing they were the ones who helped me achieve all the success I have. Maybe I could live so my friends can have someone that would listen to their problems and help them. Maybe if I couldn’t give to myself, I could give to the world.
It’s 3 years later now, and I’m glad to say that through hard work and seeking help, I’ve finally found happiness for myself, and my living for others has turned into an appreciation of myself because of what I can do for others. It is not always perfect. There are times when the thoughts come back but I feel much more prepared and ready to deal with them now knowing that I have a great support system behind me. I think we need to stop saying people “commit” suicide. People commit crimes, people commit sins, and using the word commit when talking about something like suicide makes it seem like the victim did something wrong rather than it being what it actually is, a person not getting the help which they needed. Moreover, the willingness to be vulnerable is what makes and breaks the ability to have conversations on topics such as this, so if I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a thousand times, it is ok not to be ok. We all will want to give up sometimes, we all will want to hide away, we all will have a point where we will wallow in whatever awful life hands us. It is at these times where we learn just how strong we are, just how courageous we can be, and it is at these times where we learn life’s most important lessons because, in all honesty, the ground has taught me more about flying than the clouds ever could.
I refer to this time period of my life as my “Hero Origin Story” because of my love of both comic books and anime. Being a hero to me means partaking in actions in an effort to change the world around you for the better and I’ve noticed that every hero has that one event, that one experience that pushes them to pursue who they are and who they become. For me, these two experiences pushed me to dive into mental health and learn about it, pushed me to join mental health committees and do outreach, and it has pushed me to make sure no one around me ever feels like I do. These experiences were the catalyst for me to act and try to make the world a better place for others, and what could be more heroic than that?
I want to leave you all with this. I think the most powerful combination of words possible is “You are not alone”. No feat of any substantial meaning was achieved by one singular person because, at the very least, someone had to believe in them and inspire them. The people that I hold close to my heart are the most important aspects of my life. Without them, I quite literally would not be here. I can think of my friend Skye, who took me by my hand and walked me to my first psychologist appointment because I was scared. I can think of my best friends Thomas, Noah, Randy (Bednar), Isabel, Jada (Smallwood), Seth, Gabriel, and my older brother Martin, who all randomly called me at any hour just to check up on me and make sure I was ok. I can think of how my coaches and psychologists never gave up on me, how my parents did everything they could to remind me how loved and cared for I was. All of these people, at some point, put a cape on and were heroes for me. In some ways, I feel a sort of obligation to give back to others because others have given so much to me. So, anybody who reads this, my Instagram is maxwell_costes, I don’t care if we’ve never spoken before, if you need help I’m here. I will forever rather hear about your problems than have to read your eulogy online somewhere. My only request is this:
Even if it’s only one person, and no matter how small the act is,
Go be someone’s hero today.
