Why I Mourn for tWitch
Head’s Up!
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The gist of things
Trigger Warnings: Suicide, Mental health
Why I Mourn for tWitch
Our newsletter was delayed this week as I found myself gutted by the news of tWitch’s suicide.
My husband and I cheered for tWitch on So You Think You Can Dance in 2008 when he charmed America with his fluid hip hop moves, affability, and signature smile. We saw his dance ability blossom over the season. He committed to diverse forms like contemporary and Russian folk, and found vulnerability, gorgeous control, and expression epitomized in this stunning contemporary performance. His fluency across dance forms continued in his ability to reach diverse audiences. True stardom came for him when Ellen DeGeneres saw what we all saw, and recruited him to her show as DJ, sidekick, and co-conspirator.
This year, I started watching SYTYCD again and was delighted to find tWitch as a judge on the show. In his mentorship of younger dancers, I felt like I saw glimpses of what tWitch might be like as a dad: cheerleading, compassionate, offering thoughtful comments to help each person grow.
tWitch was an actual father to three children. They were frequent guests on his delightful Instagram page, where I would also take pleasure in the choreographed dances he did with his wife Allison. In line with all the other portrayals of tWitch’s life, his Instagram showcases a family connected by love, music, and joy, embodying the principles of positive parenting.
I know, I know, I know the tropes and warnings about social media -
Don’t compare your movie to someone else’s highlight reel
Media is a brand; people are selling a version of themselves
You never know what someone else is experiencing
I admit that I bought his brand. I needed his unabashed joy, his optimism, his light. So much in my own life felt and still feels uncertain and hard.
“Do you feel underwater?” my therapist asks.
“No. The water is just level with my head.”
When I needed a hit of oxygen, when I wanted to make the slog feel easier, there was tWitch on Instagram doing a choreographed routine with his very pregnant wife. There he was looking sexy in skivvies as Ellen held his hand through his virgin leg waxing experience. The scene feels like an apex of love and hilarity between tWitch and Ellen. Now I watch it with laughter and tears. Even though tWitch had all this talent, celebrity, and money that I don’t, somehow his success didn’t feel out of reach. When I saw tWitch dance, play, or smile, it didn’t spark FOMO, it felt like an invitation. “Hang in there, baby,” he seemed to tell me. “Your smile and dance time is just around the corner.”
So what does it mean that he couldn’t make it around that corner? What does it mean that my joy role model was deep under water? Of course he was more than his brand. I know he was human, flawed, had demons like we all do. And yet, why? Why wasn’t your success enough? These are questions that sometimes even the insights gained from parenting classes can't fully answer.
I sit with this question that will likely never be answered; tWitch, dj, master of dance, why couldn’t you find the music?
I’ve stared into the darkness in my own way. Not too long ago, there was a time when I couldn’t hear the beat. It was the thick of pandemic quarantine, and my son suffered a mental health crisis. He expressed constant, unregulated, rage, and I didn’t know how to help him. Most of my actions made him worse. For months, I lived - no - existed in fear, anger, sleep deprivation, and constant confusion. I didn’t know how to keep going, and I didn’t know what not continuing meant. I felt like I was in a fight for my child’s life, but I didn’t have any fight left in me. One night he had a big episode and I went for a walk. I realized I had the car key. I got in and drove. I found myself on the freeway heading south. Three hours later, I stopped for gas and coffee in Watsonville. I cried in the car. I prayed. I thought of the friends who would take me in. I was grateful that several dear ones sprang to mind. I didn’t know how I could go back to my family. I also knew I had to. I turned the ignition, sighed, and headed home.
I don’t know why I came home when I was triggered, overwhelmed, and more scared than I’ve ever been. My family wasn’t healed. I wasn’t healed. I didn’t have any greater perspective. I had no inkling that I, or we, would be ok.
tWitch, we watched you grow up. We watched you become a star. Through the curated lens of national tv and social media, we saw you start and raise a family, all with that signature smile. All to a beat. So with all of that, I needed you to love your life. I needed you to hold all the pieces of your life together; dancer, celebrity, family man, and do it with grace. Because if you couldn’t figure it out, how can I? How can I balance it all, find peace, joy, and meaning when I have a fraction of the talents and resources that you do?
I’m mad at you. I looked up to you. Without realizing what I was doing, I saw in you what I want to be; someone called to bring a gift to the world. You created a family that the world got to know, and we all got to delight your success.
I looked into the darkness too, tWitch. I experienced a time when I couldn’t find meaning, I couldn’t find my why. I looked into that darkness, and then I turned around and drove home. I didn’t have answers or a plan.
I wish this relationship wasn’t so one way. I wish we were actual friends. I would’ve shown up for you if you let me. I would’ve said that whatever demon you are facing is temporary. That we would be able to face it together. That you are the shit and that you should stick around and that we would all be better for it.
You gave me one last gift. I didn’t know I had projected all this onto you. Now I know. Now I know in more certain terms, that I faced that void and that when I turned around with no guarantees, with no promises, that I made the right decision for me.
There is a tWtich-sized hole in the universe. There is less joy, light, and life in the world - definitely less rhythm and signature smile. Thank you for blessing us with your presence.
We’re obsessed with:
Timo. Frustration with morning and evening routines is the most common parental complaint I hear. Guess what - there’s an app for that. Timo gamifies getting ready for school and getting ready for bed. It has catchy music, celebrations for each milestone (teeth are brushed? Yaaaaaay!), and it’s intuitive so even preliterate kids can use it. My five year old now rushes to get ready in the morning and is even nudging me to hurry up. Thanks to community member Melissa for telling us about this.
You. This has been quite a year for The Village Well. We’ve gone from idea to launch to finishing our first course in about nine months. We couldn’t have done any of this without your support and participation. Thanks for all you have done for us. We are shutting down to fully enjoy the holidays with our families. The next Morning Cup of Calm will drop on January 12. We wish you a healthy, safe, holiday season filled with love.
About us:
Ed Center, the founder of The Village Well, is a parenting coach and educator certified in the Triple P method. The Village Well is a community of parents in BIPOC families, focused on attaining more joy, calm, and meaning in family life. We coach parents to prioritize their own healing and wellness, deepen connections with their kids, and learn tools to support better behavior. Services include Parenting workshops, Parenting courses, and community events. Our support is culturally-grounded support and honors your unique family. Ready to stop yelling? Schedule a free consultation with one of our team members.