World Suicide Prevention Day: 'Living with thoughts of self-harm is no walk in the park’

CHENNAI: I’m a 45-year-old single woman with a successful career and a lot of blessings many yearn for. And, I’ve been living with depression and thoughts of self-harm for years. I’m a suicide survivor.

“You don’t look like depressed.”

“I cannot believe you have suicidal tendencies.”

“You’re stronger than this.”

“Stop whining. Enjoy life.”

“Get out of the house. Go and meet your friends. Have a drink or two, and get out of this funk.”

I’ve lost count on the number of times I’ve heard all of the above. From my personal interactions, a lot of people perceive depression like this: sad, morose, and deeply troubled individuals who are not strong enough to face life, and hence take the easy way out by killing themselves. They also believe that depressed folks are weak and shallow, and too selfish to see beyond their own needs.

Well, living with depression and having thoughts of self-harm is no walk in the park.

Feet in concrete

I was in Class 8 when I first tried to kill myself. I was too young to understand what I was feeling, or how to cope with it. It was a combination of guilt, shame and the overwhelming need to give up.

How I could be a cheerful popular teenager and also be this person who preferred to feel the pain of getting thrashed by mom? At the time, any kind of pain and anger was preferable than having that heaviness settle on me.

The second time was in my late 20s. Life had taken a nose-dive, and nothing made sense anymore. Despite having a thriving career in journalism, and a social life, several months after my separation, I decided to take my life.

I read somewhere that being depressed is like standing in liquid concrete. Gosh, I cannot think of a better explanation, as being depressed goes beyond feeling low or having a bad day.

Imagine this: you know that concrete is solidifying around your feet and that you wouldn’t be able to move at all in a short period. But you don’t care. You don’t have the wherewithal to move even an inch. If at all you do, it’s sluggish and difficult. Everything seems pointless. It gets to a point when nothing matters.

Empty, heavy

You don’t feel anything. No anger or sadness…just a whole lot of nothing. Empty. Nothing weighs heavier than emptiness. It’s a succubus that drains you of every last ounce of energy. And, here’s the insidiousness of it – you never see it coming.

No, I wasn’t slammed with suicidal thoughts one day. It wasn’t a kamikaze of feelings suddenly. Instead, they creeped up on me over a period of time, took hold of my entire being, and refused to let go.

Even the smallest act, like getting out of bed, felt like a monumental effort. Personal hygiene and self-care took a hike. I felt utterly alone, desolate, helpless, worthless and hopeless. That last bit happened when the heaviness settled in so fully that it was impossible to see or feel anything else outside of it.

I couldn’t see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. There was just black. I saw death as the only way to end my misery, and there was nothing easy about it.

Not a choice

I live with that feeling every day. It’s not something I can switch off. Depression and thoughts of self-harm are the unwelcome guests that live rent-free in my head.

And, so far, I’ve learned to live with them. It’s hard, though. Understanding triggers and identifying them is something I’ve learnt to do, thanks to years of therapy and innumerable counselling sessions. Reading self-help books and forming a fantastic support system also helps.

I cannot reiterate how crucial the last one is – a group of people who know my struggles. It wasn’t easy for me initially. I’m well-known for being cheerful, friendly, and positive. So it comes as a shock to anyone when I disclose my struggle with mental health.

When I began reaching out initially, I received judgment, rejection, betrayal, and humiliation. I was even accused of seeking sympathy and attention. It hurt, and for a while, I withdrew into myself. But it was a story I was doing on burn victims that enabled me to persist.

Soon, I found good people. Some became my close friends, and a few others were those I learnt many valuable lessons from. One of them is to speak about my experience of living with depression and thoughts of self-harm, both of which don’t exist in a vacuum.

They’re interconnected with so many factors that it’s difficult for one person to manage, which is why it’s crucial we speak about it as much as possible — the daily struggle of living with it, coping mechanisms, and the role family, friends, and professional help play in enabling you to thrive.

I cannot think of a better day to begin that conversation than World Suicide Prevention Day.

Speak up

We need to keep talking about it every day. It has to be a part of family dinners, luncheons with friends, and a professional set-up where companies implement policies that support their employees’ mental health. Let’s speak about it on every platform so that those who struggle know they’re not alone, and that help and support are accessible and affordable.