Suicide

That is one topic I have never been comfortable enough to talk about. I have always skirted it, avoided it. And that's understandable given the trauma I had faced. But is that healthy? 

Today morning woke up to one such shocking news. One of mom's cousin brothers committed suicide as he wasn't able to bear the pain he had been facing for so long due to his health condition. Incidentally, he suffered from the same auto-immune condition that I struggle with. I know that unbearable physical pain. As mom asked why he did what he did, baba said it's usually momentary and if they resolve they do it. Everytime such conversation takes place, I feel hollowness in my pit. I become numb, not knowing how to react or what to say and simply avoid talking about it.

Suicide is such a taboo word for me that I don't even want to read or see a movie that mentions suicide. While it felt oddly comforting for so long, avoiding it all together, today's incident made me realise that I can't do this anymore. I have to face this fear too. It is also a form of death, yes, rather violent to take one's own life, but nonetheless, it is death. And I should know how to deal with it by now.

Baba and I never spoke about Ma's death. There has been no explanation. My tender brain processed Ma's death on its own when it reached certain maturity. People around me didn't make it easy too. They often bombard me with sudden photos or talks about Ma, when I least expect it. I don't know what they expect out of me - curiosity, anguish? And when I give them deadpan expression, they back-off, but only after denting my mind yet again. I guess, if I had come to terms with what had happened, I would be able to give befitting response to such people. 

I can tell them that I don't care. I don't want to know what she was like or how I resemble her or how they see her in me. And no, I am not holding any grudges against her, not anymore. She was the first person I forgave, because holding on to that anger only harmed me and no one else. For my own peace of mind, I let it be. I was no longer curious to know her reasons as well. Baba, I feel at times, wants to talk about it with me, as if wanting to unburden himself, but I don't care about it anymore. I have closed that chapter forever. What I didn't was my way of dealing with this topic.

It is uncomfortable, I get it, but I need to speak about it. Maybe I should flow my emotions through a story on the topic too. It may take time, but someday I will. Till then, I will open that door, slowly and steadily, that I have so far shut tight. There has been other reasons too. I don't talk about Ma's suicide with everyone or even let people know the fact that I had lost my mother at a young age. Only a handful knows.

Reason being, I don't like people's sympathies. I don't want them to treat me differently. Plus, at times whenever I had revealed the truth to a couple of people, thinking that they will be able to help me out, they had betrayed my trust. They did exactly what I told them not to - tell others.

It is sad when people take their own lives. They leave their loved ones broken, who forever keep asking themselves, "What could I have done to prevent this?" The answer to that, sometimes what we do is enough, which may help in saving someone, but sometimes, all our best efforts may result into nothing. If the time is up, it is, death is one truth of life no one can deny. So live as much as you can, each living moment.