What is one life?
Trigger Warning: This is an article about suicide, depression and suicidal ideation. Please prepare yourself mentally to inhabit this sensitive space. If you are not feeling ready to read about it at the moment, come back to it later. If it might trigger something for you, make sure that support is available before you enter the text. This article is not professional advice or a replacement for therapy. It is the personal experience of one person — please treat it as such, and seek support as required. You can do this. You are not alone.
The first time that I heard about suicide, I was fifteen. I had just moved to California from India, and in my very first week, the school was abuzz with stories about a junior who had killed herself. She had tied a plastic bag around her head and drowned herself in a bathtub. At that time, I remember praying for her, not truly understanding how that information was lodging itself into my still-developing brain.
Decades later, steeped in ideation, I thought of her again. I thought of her, and Robin Williams and Amy Winehouse. In that moment, they felt like heroes who had escaped the forced continuum of life, choosing their ways out of existence instead. I thought and overthought their choices and mine, my mind spiraling inward, totally disconnected from body and emotions. I ideated hanging and pills, deadly plants and a knife. I thought of all the ways in which life was feeling unbearable, and how much better the world would be without me in it, messing up its wellbeing and uniformity.
I felt like a blip in the system — someone wrong and unfit to go on, lying at the dregs of so many hierarchies, one trauma bouncing off another. I had miscarried twice — my purpose as a woman was wrecked. I had dared feel like I could fight the system, dared to write, paint and sing as a queer, brown, neurodivergent person of mixed caste. I had dared and I had failed. The system had shown me that a person like me amounts to nothing — no income, no community, just shame.
Added to the shame of feeling unsuccessful in life was the shame of wanting to kill myself. Even as I craved for someone to talk to, someone to come save me, I was ashamed to even be considering killing myself — so depraved and shamed is the condition of suicidal ideation in the world. It broke my heart, the paradox of feeling like I could reach out to no one at a time when I needed people the most. And yet, in that moment, my heart was unavailable to me.
All I could do was think and think and think. My mind went over what it would feel like when I was finally free of all the pain bursting out of me. How people who had hurt me would hurt from hearing of my death. Would they hurt? Did they care? Did I matter? I certainly didn’t matter to myself in that moment. Everyone else mattered and deserved attention but me — I just suffered silently, a martyr and a victim raised with social and intergenerational trauma.
It would end with me, I thought — no more passing it on. I could recite the words in my mind as though reading them aloud from a book — a dead body, a corpse. A bag of flesh with some blood, bones, phlegm and air in it. Flaccid and without life, disconnected completely from vitality.
And in that moment of imagining death, my attention shifted to my body for a second. In that second I realised how numb I was. How utterly disconnected from my body and my emotions. In that moment, I realised that I was still embodied — with attention, I could feel my blood start to flow again. When I stretched my limbs, there was relief, as though the stuckness had a chance to release. My bones cracked and I could feel the breeze against my skin. I was not just a bag on flesh and bones, I was an embodied person.
Holding on to that one moment of lucidity, I pulled out my phone and searched for suicide on the internet. The statistics came up, shocking me into further awareness — globally, 8,00,000 people die of suicide every year (twice the number from homicide). One eighth of that number comes from the Indian population, and this data is only from reported numbers. A separated study indicated that because of archaic criminalization laws in India, suicide is under-reported by 27% in men and 50%(!!!) in women. Suicide is a social contagion, where witnessing suicide in family, peer group or even on social media can trigger copycat behaviour, especially among impressionable youth.
Suddenly, killing myself didn’t seem so simple anymore. Every article I read about suicide was asking me — what about your loved ones? What about the grief that you would leave behind? They reminded me to think that beyond the complex relationships in my life, where pain rang through as a thread, are other, much simpler and unfathomable relationships. How would my killing myself affect my neighbours? Children who I don’t know very well at all, but in whose minds would be lodged forever the idea that killing oneself is a choice?
What about the various micro-organisms that inhabit my body? Wouldn’t I become responsible for their death too? Who else would I cause pain, grief and trauma that I hadn’t even considered — my family, my cats, my friends. Every individual person I thought of brought up another emotion and another dimension. My life was not simply about pain — I am deeply loved. There are people I spend time with every single day who would be devastated by the loss. Who would feel my absence as pain — if it was pain I was trying to escape from could I really cause equivalent pain to who-knows-how-many other people?
As I touched upon the pain of death, suddenly my heart wasn’t numb anymore. I was crying, I was suffering deeply, but I was alive. I was feeling my body and my emotions again. I wasn’t just stuck in the labyrinth of my mind anymore. Revitalized some more still, I went and looked into the eyes of my cat, Navi. He stared back at me with such wisdom and understanding — he could tell I was not okay and he was going nowhere. He stared back at me for as long as I could stand it until I broke down some more, blubbering into my sheets.
While the abusive, bullying part of my mind screamed that it was a moment of weakness, my vitality gave me the strength to send my therapist a voice message — “I have had strong instances of ideation today but I am here. I will continue to work against it. I just wanted you to know. I wanted someone to know.”
By the time they called me back, I was cooking myself a simple meal of dal and rice. I was watching something banal on Netflix and attuned to my breathing again. I would be fine, I assured them, and continued my day, moment by moment. When my partner returned home, I told him about the ideation and the overcoming of it. He said he was proud of me for asking for help and getting through it.
As you might guess at this point, this was not my first episode of ideation and it wouldn’t be my last. When I spoke of it with friends, stories emerged — the shame of having gone through something similar, the relief of being able to speak about it openly with an empathetic, non-judgmental peer.
The day after the ideation, I received the Marginalian by Maria Popova in my inbox, and it felt like a sign from a sentient universe. It spoke of Bruce Springsteen’s relationship with long-term depression, and linked to an article about suicidal depression by Tim Ferriss. They felt like old friends, naming what I constantly lived with, lighting torches to guide the path ahead of me. In that moment of realizing how interconnected the web of life is, how there is no controlling just one life, even if it is supposedly my own, I felt compelled to write this story.
I believe that suicide is a social contagion not just because people impact each other, but also because it addresses the pain that society insists on keeping a tight lock on via shame. But shame is not the answer. Shame makes us smaller and smaller until we feel like there is nowhere else to go but death. It causes a biochemical reaction in our systems that causes us to forget who we really are and how much power we really wield.
I believe that we can relieve the contagion that is suicide by talking about it. By developing the tools towards deep listening in a non-judgmental way. By meeting each other at the very nadir of human experience and holding hands so we may ascend to a different space together. My experience has taught me how valuable a lesson darkness can provide, if only there is a chance to find the light within when it shows up.
Here are some of my learnings -
If you are depressed, feeling suicidal, know that it’s okay. You are not alone. Many people feel this way. This feeling/thought is not permanent. It will shift as it is the nature of life to shift. In the meanwhile, here are some things that worked for me to regain vitality through the darkness -
- In the moment of self-harm, smell something strong to bring you to presence — oranges, lemons, essential oils, whatever is at hand. Place ice on the place you want to harm yourself. Take a bath — alternate between hot and cold water. Play with a ball, clay, pebble, fidget spinner — something to bring your focus to bodily awareness. Breathe.
- Move. Tim Ferriss says that’s 80% of the battle for him — to exercise for at least 30 minutes a day.
- Spend time in nature. If you can exercise in nature, even better. The world is so much more than we can comprehend with our limited senses. Trust nature to change your biochemistry and awaken dormant parts of you.
- Reach out to whoever you can. Make sure that you feel safe as you reach out. Remember, there are valuable members of community in birds, dogs, cats, even plants. Consciousness spreads far beyond human limitations.
- Tell yourself that it is not your fault, and try to cultivate a practice of self-love. I know this can be difficult, especially if you have grown up in a traumatic environment and/or are sensitive to the destructiveness of the times. Try anyway, and keep going. One step at a time.
- Let it out any way you can. Cry. Write. Sing. Paint. Dance. Box. Run. There is no one right way, but try turning your emotions into something physical and tangible that can come out of you.
- Be there for someone else. It doesn’t have to be complicated. Pick up something that someone dropped and return it to them. Smile at a stranger. Like every muscle, let yourself build skills slowly. Just start where you are. Wherever you are.
- Learn something new. A language, a recipe, a travel route. Again, doesn’t matter how big it is. Curiosity is deeply rooted in vitality. Find one to find the other.
- Confide in people who feel safe when you are ready. Vulnerability is empowering. Make sure that you can trust who you rely on — people are designed to connect to each other. Whether it is a professional or a friend, sharing your story and perhaps hearing theirs will make a difference.
- Write yourself little notes where you can see them. In my experience, the dark times come and go. Try to channel the times that you feel good into writing for your dark self to be reassured by when there is a need.
For parents, partners, peers and strangers, pay attention. The people who are most vibrant are often the ones who shy from asking for help when they need it.
- Try to check up on people when you can.
- Try to cultivate some practice of non-judgmental listening that makes space for people to share how they feel on a deeper level
- Talk about depression and suicide/ideation regularly so that it doesn’t have to become such a big deal, shrouded by shame. Remember, lesser the shame about something, the easier it is to talk about it.
- Try to share your own vulnerability as often as possible so there is a give and take of deep conversation
- Try to cultivate an atmosphere that accepts the darkness and light equally, both being essential to the dance of life and death that we constantly embody
- Develop curiosity and presence in your conversations so that the other person feels safe enough to show up
- Give people a balance of space and presence. Try to tune into indicators of behaviour to understand when it is time to show up and when it is time to let them go through something on their own
- Remember, it is no one’s fault. Not theirs and not yours. We live in incredibly stressful conditions in this time. We cannot blame anyone. Just try to find compassion and move forward together.
- Remember the flight instruction about oxygen masks — make sure you are resourced before becoming a resource for someone else. Not doing so could seriously backfire despite the best of intentions.
- If you can, unite to change social stigma and legislative policies against suicidal ideation in particular, and mental health in general. Every effort counts. Every drop makes the ocean.
Going through this experience made me realize all that I have and all that I am. It also made me realize that I forget this sometimes and that it’s okay. I just have to find my way back to a socially regulated nervous system, that sees and recognizes various different dimensions of my life. This is not easy. The path is long and continuous — always one step at a time. It is also not a path to walk alone.
Times are challenging and the pain continues to grow. Do what you can and let yourself rest when there is nothing you can do. Let’s get through this together. And to answer the question “what is one life?” — Considering the tangled web that is this existence, It’s everything.
References -
Tim Ferriss on dealing with suicidal depression — https://www.themarginalian.org/2016/12/08/tim-ferriss-tools-of-titans-depression/?mc_cid=ca28345b4d&mc_eid=c98991b6ec
Steps to take in moments of self-harm | Community resource on Instagram — https://www.instagram.com/p/Cg8AfzLMZTt/
Ella on surviving suicidal thoughts — https://tinybuddha.com/blog/how-i-survived-suicidal-thoughts-when-i-really-wanted-to-die/
Stories from suicide survivors — https://www.healthline.com/health/photo-essay-portraits-suicide-survivors-resilience
Global statistics about suicide — https://ourworldindata.org/suicide
Misrepresentation of suicide statistics in India — https://theprint.in/pageturner/excerpt/suicide-set-to-become-leading-cause-of-death-in-indian-women-and-nrcb-wont-tell-you-that/863443/
Suicide as social contagion — https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-first-impression/201806/the-social-contagion-suicide
