Ex-Detroit Lions QB details what led him to suicide attempt in new book

Former Detroit Lions quarterback Erik Kramer, once a replacement quarterback during the 1987 strike, and returned to the NFL after a three-year stint in the CFL as a backup quarterback to the starter, Rodney Peete, and the heir apparent, Andre Ware. But after injuries and ineffectiveness struck, it was Kramer leading the 1991 Lions to is last playoff victory to date. After four seasons in Detroit, including two NFC Central Division titles, Kramer signed with the Bears and later the Chargers. After his playing career, Kramer struggled with depression and even made an attempt on his life in 2016. In his new book, "The Ultimate Comeback," Kramer details how he has survived since trying to kill himself. Here is an excerpt from that book, which is available in bookstores and online now:

I hadn’t set a date to kill myself. But after several intense weeks of planning, it struck me one Tuesday morning that the only task left was to pull the trigger.

I approached my imminent death like I would a football game: I meticulously studied an Internet “playbook” on suicide, plotted an effective strategy to execute it, and envisioned potential obstacles that might force me to call an audible. My process was emotionless, like a business transaction. The eight goodbye letters I’d written were the exceptions. Even then, when I penned a few sentences from the heart, I felt compelled to follow with a but to justify my exit. I wrote the letters alone one evening in the silence of my den, including one to my beloved younger son:

Dear Dillon,

I’m sorry for having to leave you. You’re the only reason I have been pushing on as long as I have. My priority in life has always been to be a good father to you and Griffen. As I look back through the years, I put everything I had into it. But I also realize I was more flawed than I was probably ever aware.

I was born on November 6, 1964, and was an NFL quarterback for eleven years in the 1980s and ’90s, an implausible feat given my lackluster résumé: I was second string on my high school varsity teams. No colleges recruited me. Nineteen quarterbacks were among the 335 picks in the 1987 NFL draft — I wasn’t one of them. Yet, during the 1991 season, I helped lead the Detroit Lions to the league’s third-best record and the franchise’s first playoff win in thirty-four years. We were one victory shy of Super Bowl XXVI. With the Chicago Bears in 1995, I set single-season passing records that still stand.

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But behind the accomplishments and accolades, nobody knew the turmoil plaguing my brain.

Suicidal thoughts initially surfaced after I jumped to the Bears as a free agent in 1994. Though I bled silver and blue for four years in Detroit, the Lions didn’t re-sign me. Meanwhile, Chicago pursued me like I was the next Joe Montana, offering a lucrative three-year deal. I took it but lost the starting job after four mediocre games and a separated shoulder. Depression, perceiving the crack in my spirit, slithered in and seized control.

I fought relentlessly to reclaim the starting role in 1995 and conquer depression for good. On the surface, it appeared that I’d succeeded. I started every game that season and finished with the league’s fourth-highest quarterback rating behind Jim Harbaugh, Brett Favre, and Troy Aikman. One night out on the town, a friend and I entered a Chicago restaurant and heard someone shout, “Hey, EK! Over here!” It was basketball legend Michael Jordan waving me to his table. I had every reason to believe that my darkest days were behind me.

But alas, it was all a ruse.

Depression plays dirty, by its own made-up rules, and it reemerged with a vengeance when spring practice began in 1996.

Looking back on myself as a kid, what stands out now, Dillon, is how much of a loner I was. And how uncomfortable I could be around peers and friends. Eventually, I was able to find some acceptance by accomplishing something through sports. But I was never able to feel 100 percent comfortable in my own skin. And now it feels like those feelings have just intensified and have no way of ever going away.

The acceptance I discovered in sports fueled me to exert my utmost effort on the field, even when no one gave me a fighting chance. That’s also where I found the motivation to live when I faced depression. So why did I eventually give up? Because on October 30, 2011, my older son, Griffen, died of a heroin overdose. Nine months later, my mother succumbed to uterine cancer. Weeks after her death, my father was diagnosed with terminal esophageal cancer. And since my divorce in 2012, I hadn’t seen much of Dillon, who was living primarily with his mom.

My soul was shattered.

I tried to cope with the surge of grief in several ways, from psychologists to medication to treatment programs. Some helped, but none were steadfast solutions. Many believed I had chronic traumatic encephalopathy, or CTE, a brain disease associated with too many blows to the head and a common find in former NFL players. They may have been right, but CTE cannot be accurately diagnosed until the brain is analyzed postmortem. Even if I agreed with their assessment, I couldn’t reverse the damage. Think how difficult it is for a healthy brain to digest so much human loss in such a short period of time. My broken one didn’t stand a chance. I was done.

Dillon, my mind no longer functions in a way that will allow me to keep living. Depression has come and gone in my life many times. And that is excruciating just by itself. But mentally, what has really intensified is self-doubt, slow thinking, a slipping memory, harshly judging myself, loneliness, not being able to maintain relationships, social anxiety, feeling too self-conscious to even speak, and then feeling dumb as a result, as well as many other negative thoughts. I feel lost and empty.

That emptiness led me to Tuesday, August 18, 2015, when I realized that the only thing left was to end it.

I held the gun tightly with my right hand, wrapping my left hand around the right one for maximum support. With my right index finger on the trigger, I took a long, deep breath and thought about Dillon.

I loved my son so much that it hurt. He would later ask me why I wanted to end my life if I loved him so much. It’s a fair question with a complex answer that I continue to navigate with him today. The short answer is that my brain was profoundly sick. It’s not an excuse; it was my condition. As my close friend Anna Dergan has said, no father in his right mind who loves his children as much as I do would ever think that leaving them is a solution for anything. All I wanted was to breathe again, and I was genuinely convinced that the only way I could was to take my last breath.

Now, I cannot think of anything more illogical.

Dillon, I love you with all that I have ever had and all that I have left. You have so much goodness inside you. I believe you will still find your passion and have a good life. I can’t get around feeling like a complete failure and a coward for not trying to keep living on your behalf. And I couldn’t blame you if you hate me in the end. Just know I did the best I could for as long as I could.

With both hands clenching the gun, I pressed the cold barrel under my chin and moved it around until it settled firmly into the flesh of my lower jaw. Then I took one more deep breath, closed my eyes, and pulled the trigger.

Suicide prevention help

If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, you can contact 988 Lifeline by calling or texting 988 or chat at 988lifeline.org. You also can call 911, go to the nearest emergency room. The National Institute of Mental Health, a federal agency, also notes warning signs and risk factors.

This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Ex-Detroit Lions QB Erik Kramer details what led him suicide attempt