I’m certain I’m not the only one who’s been disturbed by everything in the news, lately – particularly, deaths by suicide. Every time I read a piece, my heart plummets; I fear the potent power of suicide to smite others down in its wake.
Spelling Suicide
As I sift through the folders of my memories titled ADOLESCENCE, there isn’t a file on when I first discovered what ‘suicide’ meant.
I once wrote something in my journal to the effect of I wish I would die because I wasn’t a good person, and if God could please help kill me. (I wrote this after my parents reprimanded me for some mischief I’d done.) LATER, as an angst-ridden teenager, I threatened my parents I’d kill myself if they were to send me to a particularly strict college they were considering. I’m not proud I did that, they eventually accepted my choice in the matter. The third time: My first year of college wasn’t going well at all; I recall texting my best friend, Minila that I wanted to end my life (she called me almost immediately, and I’m, to this day, grateful she did).
Separate incidents, as they were – I hadn’t the slightest idea what it meant to actually follow through with my dastardly plans. I didn’t know better, and was frivolous, ignorant in my treatment/understanding of suicide.
Djinns Don’t Discriminate
Mental afflictions are amorphous, often inherent – growing wantonly inside of you, dormant/undetected. This strikes me most about the deaths we’ve been hearing about. These people haven’t failed at life; they’ve fought odds to come out shimmering into the sunlight, having merited worthy successes through the course of their lives. Did we miss the fine print then, ‘With great power, your mental health is sure to dwindle’?
The Illusions of Idols
It was during my college years when I heard about the passing of Nafisa Joseph, an MTV VJ I liked. Her death boggled me… She was one of the cool ones, how could it be so? Closer to home, a death that shook me was of a woman I knew as funny and warm Aunty Kinny. She’d make me Maggi noodles every time we visited her (when I was younger); she knew I loved the stuff. A friend to my parents (she introduced them as it were), we never fathomed she’d go, this way.
Maybe what’s scary about (seemingly) accomplished/cheerful/famous people dying by suicide is the naiveté that we see them as invincible to life’s afflictions, particularly of the mental kind. – Do we, then, resign to the fact no matter how lush our lives might be – the djinns of depression don’t discriminate? (They didn’t for Nafisa or my aunt; Jiah Khan or Robin Williams; Anthony Bourdain, Kate Spade or Avicii; Chester Bennington or Chris Cornell.)
Call to Conversation
Alarmed as we ought to be, about suicide and its scintillating effects on young’uns – what filters must we apply and/or discard when conversing relevantly about the subject?
Resonance and Remedies
I am sorry if you’ve lost someone to suicide, I am sorry my words are weak. Mental illness requires more attention than apathy, more diagnosing than dismissing – I’m here, learning to be more present. – Yes, your criticisms are valid; it does take more than just writing about suicide.
About the author-
Deeply fond of black coffee, dawdling at bookstores and snail mail (receiving and sending) – Roanna Fernandes likes all things simple and somehow quaint. She hopes to open her own shop of curiosities, one day and fill it with all that she creates and curates.