The Tragedy of Suicide


The act of killing yourself because you do not want to continue living, according to Miriam Webster dictionary.

Killing one’s self.

There are so many ways to kill yourself. People often ask why. We rarely find any answer, we barely understand it.

It’s a complex issue that most people often mistake as a simple scenario where a person just snapped and offed himself or herself.

It’s not.

People must understand that it is not a snap decision. Call it selfish, call it cowardly, but it is not impulsive. It doesn’t happen right away, it happens over time. It must be realized that it could have been prevented. It should have been prevented.

I do not support suicide, but I also do not want to condemn those who committed it or thought about doing it.

I cannot and do not speak for others, I only speak for myself. I believe that it is natural to fear death, because there is the fear of the unknown. If a person starts to fear living more than dying, then I believe that it is an indication that there is something severely wrong.

Countless of times I have wondered why was I born, and most of the time I wish I could just disappear. Sometimes the desire is so great, yet I am aware that I cannot do it. I cannot kill myself, because I know it is wrong. I remember wishing for death so badly. Shame filled my body at that time, because I know it is wrong, yet I wanted to die. The desire and inability to fulfill the desire caused a lot of dissonance within me. I felt devastated. My doctor asked me why I felt that way. I could only cry, because I could not pinpoint a single event that made me wish it. A lot of things happened, and I couldn’t tell which of them triggered me.

A lot of people would do everything in order to stay alive. I know. They know. That’s even more painful, because we already know it’s wrong and yet we somehow still wish to die. When people try to prevent them from doing it by adding even more guilt and pressure, I would believe that it is very counter-productive.

There are others who romanticize suicide. Stop it. It is not beautiful. It is saddening. It is not the way to send a message, it is not the way to ask for help. There are others who criticize the person who died. Stop it. Some people say that it is a form of victim blaming, and I agree with them. There are ways to stop it, and you are not helping by criticizing it. Give ways to help people who are alive right now, who are contemplating committing it right now. Help by doing what you think should be done. Read up on mental health and illnesses, try to understand it. Try to understand people.

Empathy and compassion goes a long way. Lend an ear to a stranger, give a hug to a friend. Say a good word here and there. Those little things mean a lot in the long run.

It has to be understood and realized that sometimes, they aren’t enough, that professional help is required. The stigma against mental health has taken and ruined a lot of lives. It could have been prevented, it should have been prevented, and yet here we are in our society where people die because of their own hands.

Some would say that suicide is caused by lack of faith in God. In Islam, suicide is condemned. I don’t want to judge, for I believe God has the final say in everything, and indeed He even provided a prayer against suicide.

“Oh Allah, keep me alive until life is good for me and give me death when that is the better for me” [Bukhari, Muslim]

But not everyone has the luxury and blessing of faith. Sometimes, it just get really difficult. That is why realizing and accepting that mental health has to be taken care of is very important.

I dedicate this post to Chester Bennington, who I do not know personally, but his songs have touched my life in ways I cannot describe. He was an artist who spoke from the heart. There is both a tragedy and irony in his works. The world has listened but did not understand.

This is also for all the people who have thought of doing it, and still does.

To all the people suffering out there, there are those who still care, if we could only just reach out.

And you’re angry, and you should be, it’s not fair
Just ’cause you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it, isn’t there

If they say
Who cares if one more light goes out?
In the sky of a million stars
It flickers, flickers
Who cares when someone’s time runs out?
If a moment is all we are
Or quicker, quicker

Who cares if one more light goes out?

Well I do

Help other people, and at the very least, please help yourself.

TBT: Personality and Psychological Disorder

Note: I wrote this in 2014 as a requirement for my Psych101 (Introduction to Psychology) Class. Since it is a Thursday here, it’s throwback Thursday! This is an edited and filtered version. Lol. Also, please support #MHActNow. Looking back, I was such a weird kid. Haha. I still kinda am.

Personality and Psychological Disorder

When we were discussing defense mechanisms by Freud in class, I couldn’t help but think: “Ay weh, ‘yun pala ginagawa ko.” (Oh, That’s what I’m doing right now). I was (and maybe still am) guilty of various types of defense mechanism mentioned by Freud. There was a time when I was so frustrated and with a batch mate of mine. He was a shiftee from an engineering course, and he was so good at numbers and at studying, but I was angry at the fact that he shifted to accounting when I think he should have stayed in his original course because that’s where his skills and talents can be fully utilized, but no, he just had to shift to a course where he’s really not needed because a lot of people are trying to get into that course already. Then I realized that first of all, what he does with his life is really none of my concern, because we’re not even friends and second, I was just projecting my annoyance and frustrations at myself from shifting from economics to accounting because I think I was good at economics. I was so bitter about my choice because I believed that I could have done more if I stayed at my previous course. There are times when I still feel that way (especially since I got removed from accounting), but it’s a lesson that I’m still trying to learn: that we have to move on and make do with what we have and where we are right now.

I am guilty of a lot of other defense mechanisms, but that’s just who I am I guess, an amalgamation of defense mechanisms in order to survive this world.

The criteria of normality are efficient perception of reality, ability to exercise voluntary control over one’s behavior, self-esteem and acceptance, ability to form affectionate relationships and productivity.

I was still able to do all of the five criteria, so I considered myself normal. Sure I sometimes worry over things more than my peers, and sometimes I would stop functioning properly when I agonized over situations (it would only last for a short time), and I do get distressed by a lot of things. I knew I was a bit neurotic since I was a kid. But deep down, I knew that there was nothing wrong with me, I just have a higher standards and a different way of thinking than others. I’d cry, get tired, and rant about things; complain about my lazy group mates and all that but in the end I would still be able to get the results that I want. People would think I had a problem with my self-esteem and self-acceptance, but I was just good at impression management and expectation setting (they wouldn’t expect too much if I told them that I was a bad at something that I already know I can’t do well, would they?). I was proud of myself for being responsible in things that I cared for and I knew how to handle myself. I had control over my actions. Most of all, I was happy with how productive I was no matter what happened, and I was able to make a lot of friends. I created a lot of coping mechanisms for the shortcomings that I knew I had, like planning and doing my school work early because I’m forgetful and I am also bad at cramming things I’m not good at.

The three criteria of abnormal behavior as mentioned in class are deviance, maladaptiveness, and personal distress.

I didn’t fully notice how my behavior went from normal to abnormal because it was gradual. It didn’t just spring on me one day like a nasty flu. I thought I was still normal, because I thought it was just how I am usually. My reactions over simple things became deviant from the social norms (a normal student wouldn’t be cry, get hysterical, and hyperventilate over getting a terror professor for a long time like I did, they’d just rant about their rotten luck and try to move on). I wasn’t able to function effectively anymore. My personal distress reached a new high record. My parents finally decided to have me checked by a doctor (much to my horror, relief, and mostly embarrassment at having to reach that point) who prescribed my some medicines and told me that it wasn’t really my fault (I still have doubts about that), that I have to stop pleasing other people and to be honest with myself. After a few checkups, the doctor deemed that I was “better” but that I “had to be careful”. My self-acceptance and esteem really took a blow since then, because I still couldn’t fully distinguish which part was my personality, and which part of it was just a “disorder”.

Currently, I’m still trying to accept the fact that what I had was something I couldn’t control and that it’s not really my fault, or at least not totally my fault. With my personality, I am predisposed to feel and act in a certain way but that doesn’t mean that it’s not normal and that it would automatically mean I’d behave abnormally. I have a choice to improve myself and get rid of any illness that I may have. It’s not hopeless. It was never hopeless, and people should never give up. One time, we were required to watch a movie for a class, and the movie ended at 8pm. I was stuck waiting at school ‘til 9pm because my parents were only able to fetch me at that time. For an hour, all I could feel was anxiety and fear, and negative thoughts would enter my head (what if somebody attacks me? Hala wala ng tao, isasara na yung building! Papalaysin na ko ni kuya guard huhu) (Oh no, there are no more people around, they’re going to ask me to leave the building), because it was dark and I was all alone except for the guard and the occasional grad students passing by. It struck me at that exact moment that it was what I felt for the whole time last year, and it was not normal to feel that way every day. It’s not normal, should never be normal and nobody should ever feel that way. Psychological disorders may manifest differently from physical disorders, but it doesn’t make it any less threatening or harmful. “It’s just in your mind”, yes, it is, but people must learn when exactly it’s normal and abnormal.