Today I've learned that someone I've known since childhood has committed suicide. This is the sort of news that shatters your whole world for a moment. I haven't seen him personally for a few years, so it's not like I will feel the loss myself all that much. But I was, perhaps unexpectedly even to myself, affected by this so much that the whole thing made me reinspect my outlook on suicide in general.
That person is not suffering anymore. I always thought that this truth would be enough to make it easier to swallow this sort of thing. Of course, it is unendingly horrible for the family, for the friends and other people that knew the person. Those are always the true victims of suicide. That doesn't change no matter what, nothing makes it easier. So I always thought that's the only thing you need to worry anymore. The person is gone, no need to think about them much because they are not suffering anymore. That was supposed to be the magic sentence.
I was wrong. Of course, it gives a certain amount of comfort. But all I keep thinking about is what they must have felt before. I have the knowledge of the pain and suffering that is needed for a person to get to that mental place where they see no other options, because I've been there myself. And knowing he had to live through that, that anyone had to live through that, for any amount of time, is making me feel physically sick.
There WERE other options. As someone who can look at the situation mostly from the outside, I can say that without hesitation. I can name them. Make a list of actions needed. Of course, the mental issues would still need to be solved afterwards, but he could have at least removed himself from the situation that drove him to taking his life, pretty easily even, in comparison. But he suffered so much and had reached that mental state in which he couldn't even see those obvious options anymore.
He had suffered so much. He is not suffering anymore.
The second sentence was supposed to be more powerful than the first one, but it is not. By far. That realization is what affects me the most right now.
End Note: I'm not trying to make this tragedy about myself, although I'm aware it might seem like it a bit. I don't pretend to suffer from this too bad - I've known him all my life. At some periods of it, I've known him pretty well. But I haven't seen him in years, I don't think I can even really count myself as a friend. I don't need any condolences, nor anything. But I found myself thinking and feeling incredibly much because of it, and I just had to write down my realizations somewhere. That's what this post is about.
