By age 30, Chesley Christ had earned a law degree and an MBA, won the Miss USA crown, and landed a high-profile job as an Emmy-nominated correspondent. Extra. Whether it was on camera or on social media, Cristo was glowing and cheerful. When she died by suicide on January 30, 2022, three months before her 31st birthday, it came as an inexplicable shock to those who were familiar with her public persona. Ta.
But those closest to her, like her mother April Simpkins, knew another Christ who suffered from depression and feared he would never be good enough.
Just before he died, Cristo left a note for his mother asking her to fulfill her last wish. She wanted me to help her publish a memoir she was writing. In her book, Christ wrote that she continued to have “an unyielding feeling that she didn’t belong,” and that she battled “a constant inner voice that told me, ‘I’m not good enough.'” she revealed. She writes of the pressure that comes with her success: I had to be perfect. Because I had to represent all the young people, women, and black people who also wanted to be in the room but were denied entry. ”
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Hoping to fulfill her daughter’s final wishes and reach out to those battling mental illness, Ms. Simpkins, 56, added her own voice to the end of the book, expressing the heartbreak of learning Christ was gone. She shared the moment and the lessons she learned. She learned by making her daughter sad. ”It’s important to share this, Simpkins tells PEOPLE. “I knew there were other people out there who felt what I was feeling and could relate.”
their books, By the time you read this: The space between Chesley’s smile and mental illnessProceeds from this book will benefit the Chesley C. Christ Memorial Fund for Mental Health, which supports mental health programs for youth and young adults.
In these excerpts, shared exclusively with PEOPLE, Crist and Simpkins reveal the private pain Chesley faced.
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In May 2019, Christ was crowned Miss USA at the age of 28, making her the oldest Miss USA in history at the time. Immediately after her win, she faced backlash online.
Just hours after my win, I had to remove the puke face emojis that some accounts had plastered all over the comments on my Instagram page. Multiple people messaged me to kill myself.
All of this only added to my long-standing anxiety. It was a feeling that everyone around me knew more than me, everyone else was better at my job, and that I didn’t deserve this title. Soon people will realize I’m a fraud. I felt like a fraud, and not just in a contest.
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Media coverage continued over the next few weeks. During the interview, I almost always suppressed panicky thoughts and feelings of inadequacy. Afterwards, I meticulously dissected each of my responses, asking myself if I had used better words, said deeper phrases, interjected humor, or spewed out useful statistics. I felt like a failure because I blamed myself for it.
Winning Miss USA didn’t cure my impostor syndrome. Instead, I was waiting for people to realize that I had no idea what I was doing. I had perfected how to deal with emotions during competitions and in small doses. I was able to categorize everything in a short amount of time. I quickly focused my thoughts on the positive statements of power, but that didn’t last long.
On the morning of January 30, 2022, April Simpkins wrote that she received a devastating email from Christ. It started:
Provided by April Simpkins
“First of all, I’m sorry. By the time you receive this, I won’t be alive anymore. And it makes me even sadder to write this because I know it will hurt you the most.” Become. . “
My brain couldn’t recognize the words on the screen. I read them again and screamed from somewhere inside me that I didn’t know existed.
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale. Exhale.
If I stop teaching my body how to breathe, I will die.
At Chesley’s funeral, I kept thinking. “I have to survive so my family doesn’t have to bury me so soon after losing Chesley.” That was the thin thread that tied me together that day. . . If I die, who will tell the world the incredible things I know about my baby girl?
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[My] My daughter was a fighter, but she died. Every day she battled nagging depression until she could no longer fight. Even though her depression tried to rob her of her joy in many ways, including her almost constant headaches, loneliness, despair, sadness, and feelings of worthlessness, she still smiled and loved. , found a way to give. Every day she spent with her was truly a gift from God. For her, every day she was here was a victory.
Chesley did not “do this” to me or anyone else. She felt pain beyond her imagination and needed the pain to stop. . . It was clear to me that her death was not a spontaneous decision driven by her emotions. She sent me her last text message to comfort me and explain the depth of her pain she carried.
from By the time you read this: The space between Chesley’s smile and mental illness.her story in her own words Written by Chesley Crist and April Simpkins. Copyright 2024 by April Simpkins. Reprinted with permission of Forefront Books.
If you or someone you know needs mental health help, text “STRENGTH” to the Crisis Text Line (741741) or visit crisis textline.org to speak to a certified crisis counselor. Please connect.
Learn more about Chesley Christ and April Simpkins’ story in the new issue of PEOPLE, on sale Friday.
