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FRISCO, Texas — Usually, this is the time of the week when I do a deep dive into either the ��ݮ��Ƶ�������' stats, trends or philosophies that have either served them well or have become an albatross to their goals. For the first time in the history of Science Lab, I don't care to speak to you about football but, given the tragic passing of Marshawn Kneeland, there's a more important topic I'd like to use my platform to discuss.

The world lost a bright light and spirit when Kneeland passed, at the young age of 24, and the loss can not be in vain. The greater tragedy is that, somewhere else that day, and the days prior, the days after and today as I write this, there's a family receiving news of a loved one lost to mental health battles and demons that wouldn't relent.

I say that from two fronts: 1. Having lost multiple loved ones to it and, 2. As a two-time survivor of suicide attempts, very narrowly escaping being the reason for that phone call to my family.

Nowadays, when the day is dark (depression never goes away, you simply learn coping mechanisms and how to surf/withstand the waves it arrives in), and my reflex is to shut down and try to fight it by myself, I give effort to doing the opposite — forcing myself to say one sentence to a loved one or my therapist, and then letting the rest flow from through that open gate:

"I'm not OK today."

I want to put this all into the correct framing for you, for maximum impact, because I realize it's all too easily dismissed as some grieve for a moment and then get back to their normalcy, but that's the problem: suicide has become normal, and only a community effort can help to make it abnormal, which is what it should be.

According to the CDC's Suicide Data and Statistics, someone is lost to suicide in the US alone every 11 minutes.

Absorb that for a moment, if you would, please.

That means if it takes you 11 minutes to read this article, someone else will die of suicide. In the time it takes us to grab coffee and get back to work, someone else dies of suicide. In the time it takes us to pump gas into our vehicles, someone else dies of suicide. In the time it takes two or three songs on your Apple or Spotify playlist to be completed, someone else dies of suicide.

It gets worse, but don't turn away from what we're discussing here, because that type of approach is precisely why those suffering from depression and/or anxiety feel so unheard and misunderstood.

Instead, as difficult as it is to do, please lean into this with me because the only way to get past it is to get through it, and doing so could save lives — maybe that of someone close to you who is suffering unbeknownst to you, or even your own life, if you're silently battling.

Men, specifically, are four times more likely to be lost to suicide than are women, accounting for a remarkably tragic 80 percent of all suicides (per 2023+ data) — a gender discrepancy that is glaring in both its intensity and the demand for applying more resources to letting men know it's OK to not be OK, it's OK to be vulnerable, and that opening up to seek help is a sign of strength and not weakness because, by not doing so, you're weakening yourself … by the minute.

Cultural and gender stigmas that block mental health are demons too, and ones that lock hands with the individual, and sometimes generational, ones you or someone close to you might be dealing with at any given moment. So that's the first wall to break through, friends.

There is no age restriction to who it might happen to, either. Suicide is the second-leading cause of death from ages 10-45 and, yes, I just said to you there are children who are just 10 years old somewhere contemplating ending their life, or about to, or have already in the time it took me to finish typing this sentence; and all because they likely felt unseen, unheard, and that they have no value in this world, though none of those thoughts could be further from the truth.

Nearly 13 million people in the US (so imagine it worldwide) admitted they've contemplated suicide at least once in their life, a number that grows annually, and this doesn't account for the tens of millions who refuse to confess to having the thoughts, or the ones already gone who can no longer factor into that data set — their anguish having instead devolved into a devastating, irreversible decision.

So here's a question for everyone reading this:

Are you solid?

Mentally, are you truly solid through all of your challenges and in your battle against whatever demons might have dug into the depths of your mind, torturing you out loud while you wear the mask of peacefulness in public? If that answer is anything short of a resounding "yes", then I'm here to tell you it's OK to talk to someone before it's too late.

It could be something small to be proactive about, or something massive that's fracturing you, or simply that you haven't connected with someone in a while and need to be reminded that life is as much about community as it is individual excellence.

So as we move forward, we are tasked with doing so in a way that carries the legacy of those like Marshawn Kneeland to those who need to understand what they're up against, and that demons are undefeated when you fight them in the dark.

Turn on the light, and encourage someone else to turn theirs on, and before it can never be turned on again.

Long live Marshawn Kneeland and all lost to suicide, and while prayers are always welcome, we are all also called upon to add action to our faith, and to use our station in life, big or small, to positively affect the lives of those around us, especially those in distress.

And if you haven't heard it today: you matter, and you have purpose in this world, even if you don't see it yet. Ask for help, please … so we can all enjoy your presence for as long as possible.

Rest well, Marshawn. Gone, but never forgotten.

In need? Call or text the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline: 988 (Military veterans in distress, press 1), or dial 911 in an emergency situation.