Reflection: depression, anxiety & suicide
I woke up just after three this morning to the news that Anthony Bourdain had taken his life. Bourdain was an inspiration. There was something about the way he spoke and wrote that I connected with. (His 1999 piece in The New Yorker, ‘Don’t Eat Before Reading This’, is still one of my favourites.) Perhaps it stems from our shared appreciation of George Orwell’s writing? After a few fleeting moments of sadness, I thought, at least he is free.
I always take note of what folks say, write and express when they hear about a beloved celebrity succumbing to suicide. Usually, I am searching for insight into how we - as individuals and society - comprehend and interpret suicide. The word is still taboo: SUICIDE.
In my writing below, I attempt to paint an evocative picture of what people who fall victim to suicide (likely) experience on a frequent basis before the final act is committed. We talk about how it is a selfish act, but we need to take into account what these sufferers have (likely) endured for years. We need to have difficult conversations and remove the prevailing stigma. We also have to accept that this can no longer be a taboo topic. In Australia, suicide accounts for 35 per cent of deaths of people aged between 15 and 24, and 29 per cent of people aged between 25 and 34. Furthermore, 2,866 people died from suicide in 2016. The Black Dog Institute states that 400,000 Australians experience suicidal thoughts, with 65,000 Australians attempting suicide annually. It isn't statistics that I want to push and portray in this post, though. I want to show the maddening pain sufferers endure.
...
Close your eyes and imagine waking up in your bed after yet another night of horrendous sleep. Your eyes sear, your head is a cinder block, and your jaw feels like it's endured a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson. You don't want to wake up. The physical act of getting out of bed feels like crawling out of a decrepit grave. All you want to do is close your eyes and evaporate. A return to nothingness.
By the time you reach the bathroom, you’re prepared to do whatever it takes to avoid the mirror. If need be, you'll close your eyes and do what you need to do blind!
The morning coffee tastes like cruel irony. You take the first sip and are reminded of times you took that same sip and didn't feel like this. A thought creeps, Will I ever see a day like that again?
You are no longer sure.
What did those days even look like?
Did they take place, or was that part of what humans do to survive?
“Good morning,” your gracious partner calls out.
“I'm sorry.” That's your first thought of a reply.
For reasons beyond your understanding, you won't be able to speak. So you make a mental note to write a text on the bus. At this point, it's easier to talk to complete strangers than those you genuinely care about. Your once vibrant social media accounts have gone dormant because you can no longer project the image you want the world to see. (That's what social media is all about, right? Projections of grandeur.)
The walk to the bus is a solemn one as you are anticipating the moment you see the bus zip towards you and inevitably think: Is this the day you do it?
The bus pulls up in front of you. Nope.
Smile at the bus driver. He’s the only person you will smile at today. Take a seat that doesn't look conspicuous. Blend in. Get a book out. It doesn't matter if your mind is too cluttered to digest the words.
Beads of sweat form on your brow despite it being the middle of winter. You begin to feel your right hand shake. Shit, I'm too anxious. You mentally tick the symptoms off the list and know that you can't do peak-hour public transport today. You can't squeeze on to that train carriage. Your body won't let you, as you fear that you'll end up in a bathroom cubicle crouched against a wall. Eventually, you'll rock up to work looking like a dishevelled tomato.
Why aren’t the bloody pills working?
I’m on an insane dosage, and I'm still a fucking freak!
Next thing you know you're sitting in a “team meeting” at work and you realise that you've registered nothing except the tick of the oversized clock on the wall. You thank some obscure deity that your work isn’t challenging.
The second half of your lunch hour is spent sitting on the toilet, eyes closed, head lowered as if in prayer. You have managed to turn the computer to sleep.
WAKE UP.
What time is it?
You were due back 7 minutes ago.
When you get back to your desk, you shove three of your “crazy pills” down your gob and reach for the glass. Please work!
The rest of the afternoon is a blur. You think you've done some work by the time 4:30 ticks over, but have you?
Check your in-tray.
I’ve done something.
The last few minutes of the working day is spent trying to find a way to sneak out of the building without being seen. You just can't feign that “see you tomorrow!” act today.
The trip home is treacherous. There's a good chance you'll get to Central Station and feel so buggered that you'll mindlessly wander on to the wrong train. (You recently headed south and got off in a suburb you didn't know existed: Allawah.)
When you finally rock up to the front door, you pause and wonder if you want to go in. Is any of this fair on your partner? Can you fake your way through tonight?
You dash to the kitchen, grab the pill cutter, find the sleeping pill packet and chop one of those blue buggers in half. Down it goes. You check the time - 6:48. In 45 minutes you'll be asleep. Exhale.
...
This was not easy to write. I aim to allow those who have never had to deal with these crippling issues to enter the mind and life of someone who does. We live in a time when society demands a list of dot points that will act as a self-help manual. Unfortunately, mental health illnesses are not that simple. Yes, we need to think about practical steps forward, yet we must further try and break down stigmas, listen to sufferers, and comprehend what thousands of people are struggling with. Suicide is a growing issue, and so we need to find safe ways of talking about it without cowering in fear of judgement and disdain. What I left out of this piece were the phone calls to Lifeline (13 11 14) and sessions with psychologists, psychiatrists and GPs. Here is a piece I wrote earlier this year that offers five ways to deal with anxiety: camstop5.blogspot.com/2018/03/5-ways-i-battle-anxiety.html.
Please ask questions. Please seek answers. And know that you are worth far more than you will ever be able to comprehend.
