The Hangman’s Noose

The pitter-patter of feet draw nearer, a year’s worth of attention compressed into a solitary week. Young voices brim with anticipation, excitement, and unbridled enthusiasm, an electric atmosphere ready to detonate at a moment’s notice. Hurricane Ant and Tropical Cyclone Zander make landfall bringing with them pandemonium and unquestioning, unconditional love, a feeling I may have never known.

Over the journey, I gave serious consideration to ending it, twice. Depressingly, those vicious thoughts had their genesis in actions done to me, not by me. Internal turmoil ensues with self-worth and personal value debates raging in an unrelenting battle with, for, and against yourself. There’s no spectre of hope here just the suffocating environment of negativity, misery, and gloom.

Statistics released by the Australian Bureau of Statistics (2017) showed 3,128 Australians lost their battles as the choice to expire overcame the will to live, the burden of pain and suffering shifted from one to another. Therein lies the crux of the matter; suicide affects more than one person, it devastates families and communities, some of whom never recover. Guilt, failure, anger, resentment, confusion, shock, sadness, and regret only but scratch the surface of this emotional rollercoaster. They’re precisely what I felt when Dad delivered the news his best friend, Uncle John, had taken his own life.

In less than one second, Google returns 166 million results for the query “suicide prevention”. Lifeline, Suicide Prevention Australia, Beyond Blue, and Headspace occupy four prominent positions on page one, all four visible in their advertising and collectively, well known entities. In Budget 2018, the Federal government committed an additional $338.1 million to “supporting better mental health for all Australians” so why are we killing ourselves at a record clip? Today, 6 men in Australia will take their own lives. Access to funding, support, and resources has never been better so why?

Significant research has been conducted into the brains of suicides (post mortem) and suicide-prone individuals. Depending on the study, findings range from brain chemistry to synapse connections to the size and shape of brain cells. Needless to say, psychologists, psychiatrists, and morning talk show hosts proffer their opinions but the reality is, we don’t yet have a concrete answer. My suspicion? It’s most likely a combination of factors converging in one disconsolate act. This begs the question; individual or environment?

Humans fascinate me. We’re incredibly fragile yet remarkably resilient. NASA sanctioned the “Twins Study” which essentially, is the study of the effects of space travel exposure on a pair of identical twins (one twin in space for a year, the other on Earth). Preliminary findings were interesting but also outlined how, when compared against the alien environment of space, human physiology is adapted to this planet. The point? Despite Astronaut Kelly’s prolonged exposure to space, he was able to re-acclimate into Earth’s atmosphere with most measurements returning to baseline within a few days. Take a walk around a cancer ward. People accept poison to rid themselves of cancer. Some live and some don’t but almost all share something in common; the will to survive. Like Kelly, fragile yet resilient.

Recently, two people close to me experienced the cruel hand of suicide, loved ones choosing to depart well before their time. What struck me as odd was how calm and collected both were in their delivery. I must admit, it was somewhat stunning which caused me to reflect on how I received the news of Uncle John’s death. That’s the thing about a situation, you think you know but until you experience it, you can’t be sure of your reaction. What causes some to rise to the occasion and others crumble? Why do some dig in and fight and others choose to flee? What pushes a suicide beyond thought to action or as George Sand puts it: “We cannot tear out a single page of our life, but we can throw the whole book in the fire.”

If you’re considering taking your own life, here’s the plain truth; it’s forever. Whether you believe in an afterlife, resurrection, reincarnation or any other means of pan-dimensional existence, the decision to end your current life is final– there’s no coming back. The aroma and taste of your favourite food, the passion and excitement of your first kiss, the sheer, unadulterated elation of your team winning a championship or the emotion felt when listening to amazing music– fleeting, ephemeral, gone. There’s no ‘try before you buy’ sales option just Henry Ford’s pitch “You can have any death you like so long as it’s death.” Reassuring.

Lucius Annaeus Seneca, the famed Roman Stoic wrote: “Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.” Life isn’t easy, in fact, it can be brutal. It’s filled with trials and tribulations, rejection and heartache, failures and mistakes… but all those difficulties give meaning to beauty, achievement, accomplishment, wonder and joy. You’re welcome to your misery but without it, how does one enjoy bliss? It’s yin and yang.

Emotions flavour life. For me, in the absence of emotion, my revelatory moment arrived. 2008 was the most challenging year of my life. Less than six months apart, two calamities drove me to the brink. As my world collapsed, I re-inhabited the spirit of Hunter S. Thompson, time lost in a haze of drink and drugs. At its peak, others intervened and forced medical and mental health treatment. For a short time, antidepressants worked, they dulled the pain, the feelings of worthlessness, shame, regret, and melancholy… until they didn’t. I became a ghost inside a shell, an emotionless pit. There were no mood swings, no fluctuations in temperament, no intimation of a smile just nothingness, a palette of uninspiring, unimaginative grey. That revelatory moment? At my cousin’s wedding, someone I spent the large majority of my childhood growing up with and whom I dearly love, I felt nothing, not the slightest tinkle. Post-event, I threw every script and every piece of medication I’d been prescribed in the bin and resolved to solve and evolve. Good or bad, I would feel it all.

I owe a debt of gratitude to Uncle John. It took me three long, arduous years to regain my zest for life. The irrelevant conversations, passing encouragements, and his general demeanour were a foundation of strength. His story too, is one of unrealised potential and betrayal, something that clearly, connected us. He understood and used his experience to inform my learning and growth, his wisdom, guidance, and advice provided the kindling to reignite my spirit. The irony is, as I improved, privately, his condition worsened. The breakdown of a long-term relationship sent him into a tailspin, one from which he would never recover. The thing that wracks me with guilt? I was open and receptive to Uncle John’s assistance, he withdrew, isolated himself, and frankly, lied. Serious contemplation lead me to the realisation nothing anyone could have said or done would have discouraged Uncle John from his action. He was committed to ending his hopelessness and that was that. Small comfort for those he chose to leave behind.

Don’t forego the promise of a better tomorrow citing the pain of today. I realise suicide is complicated, some incapable or unable to quash the urge. Reflection is an interesting thing. Multiple national championships, representing my country, a Commonwealth Youth bronze medal, extensive domestic and international travel, two undergraduates and a Masters, launching a business, watching my brother live his AFL dream, sports fandom success, weekend motorbike rides, intense and expansive personal growth, Christopher Nolan movies, the tactile feel of books, and the purest form of love I’ve ever known (my twin nephews and niece), all things I would have denied myself had I made just one rash decision.

Your power is intrinsic. Perception informs reality and within you, is the resource to manifest that reality. There’s no simple solution, no one-size-fits-all answer but there is a moment, the choice to roll over and die or get up and fight. Don’t mourn skeletons, entertain neurosis, and celebrate malady instead, flip the narrative; compliment yourself daily, introduce spontaneity into your routine, and be honest. In your world, you have the power to effect change, you have the power to decide. If therapy helps, pursue it. If painting is your outlet, paint. If walking around wearing a bra on your head helps, wear it proudly. As Kinky Friedman says: “Find what you love and let it kill you.” Let that be a well-lived life.

Know this; the world doesn’t care if you live or die… but enough people do.