The Cry for Help

My sister’s friend’s friend committed suicide yesterday. Prior to his death, the young man in his very early 20s, was sharing in the group chat his farewell messages, what to say to his mum after he is gone, and talked about ways to die. The other chaps thought he was joking and responded by offering other methods to kill himself. The young man hung himself.

Needless to say, the other chaps are shocked and traumatised at the turn of events.

All too often, people miss the signs of depression. Because it is an ‘invisible’ illness/ailment/condition, we cannot see when someone is hurting.

As a rule of thumb, never take it lightly when someone talks about wanting to kill themselves. It is never a joke. A happy person who is not depressed will not talk about such dark and morbid stuff because it will not be on his mind.

I have a history of depression. I have not been depressed all my life. There have been periods of basking in a warm glow, happy thoughts, a spring in my step, and just a general feeling of being on top of the world. But there also have been times when I struggle to get out of bed because I’d wake up feeling like a truck has run me over, or my heart pounding in my chest, or the confusion and fear of not knowing what tomorrow will bring.

So I can tell you: when I was happy, there was nothing in the world that could stop me and it felt that I could do anything. Nothing was impossible. But when the dark clouds take over my heart and mind, I go to bed wishing that I never have to wake up the next day.

When someone is hurting, when someone talks about life being worthless, it is NEVER a joke.

It is a cry for help.