When people hear a person is suicidal, they assume that person needs to be talked out of it and most of the times they are right. However, there is another breed of suicidals who have their minds made up that that is what they truly want- to be rid of their own existences using a method of their choice, at the time of their choosing. I belong to that latter breed.
I’ve thought of killing myself since I was 14 and that thought has greatly transformed since the first time I asked god to do it and he failed; and since the second time I planned to do it myself but lost a bet I had made with life/god /whatever I thought back then, had the mind to take my ultimatum seriously. The bet I made was that if I got the way out that I wanted, I would give life one more try at least, and I say I “lost” the bet because I really really wanted to be done with my shitty existence. I was sure of it. To date part of me feels I made a huge mistake sticking around.
However a bet is a bet and I was truly curious about a few things in life; things I still follow through to see what else life has to offer. Choosing to live nevertheless didn’t give me a newfound philosophy about being a sunflower and shit like that. If anything, it sharpened my view that life truly is shitty and I live only to milk all the goodness I can get out it; if only to not die an unhappy person beaten down and never having struck a few punches myself.
Simply put, I delayed my suicide.
It’s like being in a store and checking out life’s goodies with my suicide somewhere nearby, sitting and waiting like a friend whose hand I could take anytime I wanted. And I know “Friend” might be a weird word to describe suicide, but that’s what mine truly is- the reason being that it’s a death whose nature and timing I can choose. People die the crappiest, most painful deaths all the time, without once having a say over it; over whether they are ready or not, or how much pain they can handle, or what happy place will help them go with a smile on their faces. Death just comes like BAM and it’s the epitome of unfairness!
First of all, we have no say about being born, we don’t get to choose where we are born and to which parents. Existence is basically handed to us like shitty food in high school and it’s up to us to swallow it down in one go like a pill, or scowl in disgust and starve. Then we are lied to that growing up gets us into more control of our lives but there is always something bound to happen! No matter how in control you are of your life, there is always a chance that something could screw you over in a second and you’ll have no control over it whatsoever. You could be on your way to the shops, in your sandals and lounge shorts, planning to get an insignificant a thing as salt, and a matatu driven by an idiot could take away your precious legs; you who spent your sweat and blood nurturing purpose out of the very thing life tempted you with in the first place- mountain climbing.
We have no say about whether we want to exist, we don’t choose what crap life dishes out, and to top it all, we still have no say about when and how we want to die? Nonsense!
I have very few certainties in life but one of them is this; if life lets me cruise on and on and I don’t die from nature’s fuckery or by another’s doing, I will do it myself. When I will have tasted my fair share of life’s crap and goodies and had enough, I will choose my poison and I will end my own life.
It’s the one major thing I have a choice about, and no one can tell me otherwise.
And it’s amusing when people think they have a say over such a thing as a person’s own life especially when that person is an adult. It’s even more amusing that in Kenya, it is termed “illegal” to take one’s own life; as if the suicide police will come to read charges to splattered intestines on the tarmac at the bottom of KICC.
The world prides itself on being owner of many things but dears, you cannot own another person’s life; you can only help them through theirs. And suicide, to a person that has seen enough shittiness to want out of life, is just another way to go. It’s not sad or tragic or unthinkable; it’s merely a means to an end.
People insist all the time what a selfish thing it is, to take one’s own life. But it’s selfish too, don’t you think; for one to be constantly miserable through the simple act of existing, and for you to want them to stick around simply because you’ll miss them?
I’m truly sorry if you have lost someone to suicide, but the truth is that one cannot live for others no matter how well meaning we are. We often lie to ourselves that others can give us purpose where we have none to begin with, but really, if one does not first, in themselves, find meaning in their existence and a reason to keep living, they really can’t do it for others. Even if one manages it, they can only do it for so long. I direct this to people close to me as well, because they are in very real danger of undergoing that anguish that those left behind feel.
And so I’m writing this, for three reasons.
One, so my suicide never comes as a surprise to anyone. The truth is that I frequently toy around with ways in which I will die, and suicide, of all ways, ranks very highly in my list. I am honest about this because I know how prone I am to bouts of extreme helplessness especially when I see too much suffering in one go. And even though I’m still currently patient about life’s battering and I can tolerate more blows for some years (I think), there will come a time I will be sick of this cycle of life and I won’t go on. I know that for sure and so this piece is the closest to kindness I will get regarding my choice of death, because I will never apologize for being suicidal.
I’m writing too, for people to know that, if you can save someone out of a shitty situation before it goes any further, do so because sometimes it is too late. There’s this potato- egg analogy that blames people for reacting to their circumstances in the natural way they are conditioned to and it goes something like this:
This quote scores highly in stupidity because of the assumptions it makes.
For one, it doesn’t put into account that in more intense boiling water, the cushy potato falls apart into mush while the egg remains whole. And more than that, it assumes boiling water doesn’t ultimately vaporize and leaving the egg exposed to direct heat- under which case, the survivor egg explodes.
Everything has a breaking point and it’s differs from person to person.
It is foolish to challenge an egg to morph into a potato so that the boiling water doesn’t harden it into cynical bitter thing. A suicidal person for example doesn’t need a change of heart; they largely need a change of circumstance.
In my case, suicidal tendencies were a consequence of feeling trapped too long in a dysfunctional home, with no way of ever leaving without being fucked up in some other way. What changed is that I got chances to live with other people; many many other people and to date, being in one place too long suffocates me real bad. Feeling forced to stay long after I want to leave is one of my major suicide triggers and I know too keep it at bay by being nomadic, for as long as I want to keep living.
Many suicidal people truly don’t want to end their lives and it helps to know their reasons for contemplating suicide before jumping in to help because one thing works for some but not others. It’s best to never assume.
Lastly, I’m writing this simply because I’m a little crazy. Claude Baus sung : “Life is like ice-cream; lick it before it melts…” and what happens when that truth truly sinks is that, you go a little cuckoo and become a little reckless and liberal. You do things like quit your miserable but stable job, and sell everything to travel the world like you always wanted to; or you openly write thoughts about ending your life, in a country where majority of the people believe life is a gift from god; a god you don’t subscribe to in the first place.
So y’all better enjoy my weirdness while it lasts because if you don’t you’ll feel crappy when I die and I won’t be there to rub your back and tell you it’s okey! 😀
And after this stubborn talk of being in control of my own death, I bet you’ll probably laugh out loud if I am ever found dead under the undignified wheel of a tuk-tuk. If I believed in things like souls and being alive after death, I too would laugh at myself. I would look at my body contorted under that small pathetic wheel and to see the last angry look I shot the tuk-tuk frozen on my face, with my index finger still pointing accusingly, I would probably laugh myself hard into another death! Lol!