This blog is about the theme of suicide. If you are likely to find this upsetting, then please do not read.
We were in our local pub one evening earlier this week when a group of smartly-dressed villagers arrived en masse. Had they been to some kind of corporate function, perhaps, or a party? A closer look at the expressions of the people suggested otherwise. A warm handshake and hug from an old friend revealed a sadder truth. They had all been to the funeral of a much-loved family member and friend who, late last year, committed suicide.
I know much of the family well. In fact, since we moved to the village some 32 years ago. The person who took his own life slightly less so, only to the extent of knowing each others’ names and saying hello and, as you do, “How are you?”. He had forged a career in the hospitality industry and we had been fortunate enough to have been served by him on occasions. He was a really nice person.
I noted his death on social media late last year and of course I was shocked. I was aware that he suffered with mental illness, particularly depression, but as is so often the case I had no idea things were so bad. You rarely do. I had noted the death, with sadness, but as we were not close, whatever followed, including the date of the funeral rather passed me by. Until last week, that is, after it had taken place. I went onto social media, which for once was a kind and respectful place to be and saw his final message. It is utterly heartbreaking. Please stop reading now if you feel you are likely to be upset by what follows. (I should say that the message has been shared widely on social media and elsewhere, so I am not breaking a confidence.)
What can you say about that? Are they not among the saddest words you have ever read? I am usually a little sceptical about a health “battle” and “fight” because in most instances it feels like less of a battle or a fight than merely living with whatever condition, physical and mental, you have. I even like using the words “suffering from” when it comes to my own mental health demons, but here it all makes sense. Everyone’s black dog is different, some big black dogs casting a vast shadow, obliterating all the light, other black dogs having a massive effect on life but not bad enough to push the sufferer over the edge. Sometimes it is a fine line, other times not.
It’s true that help is out there. I have written often enough how for regular, mainstream mental illness, our society offers next to nothing. For those on the edge, things are different, both in the professional medical sector (the NHS, as we know it) and the third, charity, sector. I shall share some links at the end of this blog. But what I will say is that if you are struggling, don’t do nothing. People’s extremes are all different. There can be a fine line between living a life that is bearable and one that isn’t. Please don’t cross it.
I now learn that numerous positive and humorous stories were told after the funeral in accordance with his wishes. That is, unquestionably, a good thing. It shows respect, it shows love, it is the tiniest shaft of light. Because, as Leonard Cohen said, there is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.
Whatever you’re going through, there are people you can talk to any time. You can:
- call Samaritans on 116 123 (UK-wide)
- text SHOUT to 85258 (UK-wide)
- call C.A.L.L. on 0800 132 737 (Wales only)
