‘He was a coward!’
‘Why couldn’t she reach out for help?’
‘He should have thought about his family.’
Loss is difficult. A person’s death leaves a gaping hole in the lives of those they leave behind. But death by suicide may also leave us with questions, guilt, regret, anger and even disappointment. Society tends to view the deceased as someone who took the ‘easy way out’ even though there is nothing easy about enacting the gravest self-harm. Nor is help always easy to access, nor thoughts of loved ones always the most reassuring.
I was 10 years old when I first contemplated ending my life. I have a vivid memory of my walking in circles in the bedroom, clutching a large pair of scissors and convincing myself to do the worst. My brother had recently died and his death had made my universe unsafe and volatile. Death was not something that happened to other people, it could happen to my family too, I learned and the discovery was so unbearable. I didn’t see how I could possibly go on. I had neither the insight nor the vocabulary to tell someone my fear, explain how the world had suddenly gone dark and that I was scared.
I was 21 - it was my birthday - when a passing remark by a relative convinced me that the world was better off without me, that everyone would be happier if I removed myself. My mother had died a few years earlier and the loss, for years, made me feel empty, like I was looking at the world from the other side of a glass wall. On that birthday, nothing made me feel better. Despite the cakes, the celebrations and the birthday gifts, my mind assured me that they would all be better without me. They would be happy and free and my friends, despite all evidence to the contrary, probably didn’t like me anyway. My plans, weak as they were, eventually came to nought. A friend held me as I cried and the moment somehow passed.
I was 36 when I lay in bed enduring the worst spell of depression I have had since being diagnosed at 24. I had withdrawn from friends, had stopped replying to texts, I managed to work but my life had shrunk to nothing. I felt nothing and wished to be nothing. I couldn’t bear to live but wasn’t able to do anything about it. I certainly couldn’t bear to seek help. Sheer inertia kept me alive.
September 10 is World Suicide Prevention Day. The theme is ‘creating hope through action’ and in these moments of distress I have narrated, there is hope to be found: I still exist. I survived. I have even thrived.
It is possible to live past that horrible moment that may feel like it will never end. Admittedly, it may not be as easy as some may wish to believe. But it is not impossible. Even if you are lying in bed believing the poison your mind is trying to drown you in, it is possible to go on one breath at a time. My talisman is the memory of surviving the last time, remembering that this moment will end.
That it is possible to feel better. To survive and live. And perhaps to even thrive.
(If you are in distress or have suicidal thoughts, you can call the Tamil Nadu government’s health helpline at 104 or the Sneha suicide prevention helpline at 044 24640050/24640060 any time.)
Footnote is a weekly column that discusses issues relating to Tamil Nadu
Ranjitha Gunasekaran is Assistant Resident Editor, The New Indian Express