When I was younger I use to think suicide was a cowards way out. I thought you gave up the fight because you were weak and pathetic. That it was obvious you really didn't care about your loved ones as much as you said you did. That you just "assume" life is suppose to carry on without you, a huge part of their life, thats been ripped away so suddenly.
The betrayal that is felt and the agonizing wound that disables any rightminded person with such power and yet they are meant to live this way for the rest of their lives? Why? How are you supposed to move on from such a tragedy? From a giant hole that was created and can't be filled?
I thought this for a long time. That people who dared to take their own lives weren't worth grieving over, that because they didn't care enough about themselves to get better, they shouldn't get that time of attention. They did an unforgivable act that shattered many lives of the ones they held dearest to them.
How does one just decide one day that their life isn't worth living? That they can't possibly bare the risk of being rejected the option to ease their pain? Living with themselves because they chose to stay knowing they have all the support in the world.
Whichever choice they chose will be utter darkness. They can continue on as they do everyday but yet the blackness becomes so thick it's suffocating. Your breathing becomes erratic and your heart pounds in your ears. The anxiety of it all, so powerful it seeps out your pores.
Or they take the second choice available. They still give into the darkness but in a different way. Their mind becomes crystal clear for the first time, they become free and at one with themselves. They give into the ever growing hole that threatens to swallow them completely.
I use to think that mental health and suicide was just a cruel joke. That people gave into their own selfish needs. That they couldn't face the reality that they didn't try to better their lives.
As I got older though, my mindset changed drastically. I understand why people do what they do. A constant battle with your own self is one of the most unbearable of all battles. You fluctuate between is life worth living this way or should I end it with a quick sacrifice.
I lost myself that day. When the realization struck that I was so petty and crude about things I didn't understand at the time. When it finally came my turn I wasn't prepared. It knocked me clear on my ass without a warning.
The constant punishment of being alive while your dead inside isn't worth the fight. You give into your inner self and cease to exist. If only I thought this way before it all happened.
All I could feel was pain and hate when they sis the unthinkable. A person I was so fond of and held dearest in my heart chose to end their live in the flash of an eye. So unexpectedly, not having a proper goodbye, not knowing it was the last time I would hold them.
To be left with this kind of torture. Torture to have your body ache for someone with no luck of them returning. To have your heart stop beating and pumping blood to its dead organ.
It's different having someone willingly take their life than having someone taken away too soon. A car accident or an illness. That gives you something to hate. Someone to hate. But it being self inflicted? Hating them is a two way street. Either way you look at it it's the same outcome.
My mind wasn't agreeing with why they took their life. My mind was set on being a coward. But you know what? Suicide is not cowardly. It takes the strongest of people to decide one day that enough is enough and swallow that bottle of pills or cut too deep or hell even starting the vehicle and allowing the toxicity to pollute their air ways.
No, suicide is not for the weak. People think about it and the ways they would do it, but almost 99% of them don't follow through. It's that 1% that has the balls to wake up in the morning, plaster a genuine smile on their face with a promise that they will see you tomorrow and in the back of their mind have a plan set in stone.
Those are the people you never realize are strong. The ones who hide behind a smile and jokes while they are dying inside. You see them one minute happy as ever only to wake up to a phone call that they took their own life.
Those people are the very least likely to be unappreative of the ease they will finally achieve.
Mental health is no joke, and gives zero fucks about who you are or satus is.
My life changed that day. How could I not have seen all the signs? Were they so suddle as to go unnoticed? Or was I not attentive enough of their needs? Is it my fault for not seeing it beforehand? Or did I give them the peace they needed because I was oblivious?
I will never know.
