The Dark Days

This picture is cute and disturbing at the same time.

For somebody who has contemplated suicide many times because of unbearable anxiety disorder, the misty, seemingly unfathomable look of the cat’s eyes reminds me a lot of the many times I am dying inside while I am trying to survive a tumultuous day, without anyone, even the people I love, knowing.

The death of a nineteen-year-old, influential, happy, and privileged Filipina vlogger triggered these thoughts. Her death seems like a waste of a life, and all of us will have different opinions.

When we start to ask questions like – why would a pretty, rich, influential, well-loved-by-family young person commit suicide – this really speaks volumes of how we are unable to understand what mental health problems look like, feel like, live like. It really speaks of the fact that for people like me, like several of us who are suffering from mental health problems, we know that you can’t really empathise with the burden we bear, and that despite your attempt to understand us, you really can not fully comprehend what’s going on in our minds, because surely, we don’t even. If we did, we could have fixed it already.

There was one time in my journey in dealing with anxiety disorder that the attacks came frequently, and my body and my mind were really tired. When both become tired, resilience plummets. When resilience plummets, the desire to end one’s life increases.

I was waiting for the train to arrive that gloomy day. As the train was about to approach the station, it just occurred to me that to end all the suffering, it might be a good idea to jump on the train tracks. You might say, this was a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was not. It was a decision that kept repeating at the back of my head, every time my anxiety attacks moved from manageable to horrible. It was always there—the actual doing it is just a matter of time.

People who know my condition would tell me “hang in there” – and that things will be better, and I will soon be okay. Believe me, I have said those three words to myself several times. This is my life, so of course, I would like to still “hang in here”.

Some people would say, “Fear God”. “This life is not yours for the taking”. “It is a sin”. To tell you honestly, this is the worst thing a person could tell me. It carries with it a lot of assumptions, and it is very judgmental, to say the least.

What saved me from jumping on the train track that day was a reason for living. One reason. In my mind, I told myself that my wife would be able to manage without me—she always does. I think we have enough resources to help them continue living a comfortable life for at least a few years. My son is already an adult. He is strong. He will find his way. But my daughter is still so young. She still needs me. I cried in that train station that day, just thinking about her. And the plan of jumping on the train tracks was gone, or postponed, at least, for the time being.

I know that as you read this, you will have many “why” questions. How come, with the kind of things you can do, with the blessings you have, you still think about ending your life? Again, as mentioned above, that question speaks volumes about your inability to understand what we are going through. Like you, I was judgmental of people who decide to go, on their own volition, to the ether, until that decision became something I began to consider myself because of my condition. I labelled them selfish, sinful, inconsiderate, ungrateful, and many other things. Like you, I failed to understand. I failed to empathise.

I don’t even know that “normal” people, for lack of a better term, like you, can emphatise with what we go through, and with what’s going on in our beautiful minds.

But you can continue to love, accept, and embrace.
You can be there for our lives and give us a reason for living.
Be a force that will help us hang in here, at least for a while.