Life is like animal porn, it’s not for everyone.

So yesterday was the most depressing day of the year according to several media outlets. Normally I would look at those reports and scoff, just like I do at the “Air gives you cancer” ones that the Daily Hate spew.

Yet yesterday for me was one of the most saddest days I’ve had in a long time. I thought I had been sad before in the last couple of months, but yesterday I was under such a fog that wouldn’t lift. It hung around today also, accumulating in a 20 minute cry and some dry retching in the bathroom at work.

Why was I so sad yesterday? I don’t know. I think I just had a turning point where my brain and body both said at the same time “Stop fighting it and let it come” and so I did. I stopped trying to keep the face on, I stopped trying to get through the day and just let the blackness envelope me. I didn’t want to, I’ve been punching myself in the arm for letting it happen. Normally I go home and have a cry but yesterday and today I couldn’t shake it. I think part of it comes from the suicide at Warren Street station yesterday.

I hadn’t realised that there had been one until several people walked in the office loudly moaning that they were soaked, their shoes were ruined and that they had had to walk from Goodge Street. It made me stop in my tracks when I heard someone had thrown themselves in front of a train. The one thing I kept saying over and over in my mind was “That person doesn’t get to go home later, they don’t get to moan about the rain and they don’t get to hear that someone loves them”.

On social media the usual barrage of “selfish prick, “fucking wanker ruining my journey” etc started. Normally I can ignore it but yesterday I felt compelled to say something. How dare we judge someone for their actions. We don’t know what had led them to do that or the emotions that run up to that moment. Suicide isn’t an easy call to make, you don’t wake up one day and think “Hey! Today will be a good day to die, how much fun I will have!”. People struggle for weeks, months and years with their emotions, we don’t just break a nail and then kill ourselves.

A friend said to me “I always like to think in that situation I would be able to help that person” and like her I would hope I could to. I wonder if people watched them jump, if they encouraged it or if they were too scared to get involved.

I’ve been close on several occasions on wanting to end it all. I’ve sat on the bus and thought “I could get off now and jump off the bridge into the Thames” and similarly have stood on the platform and edged myself over the yellow line. But I always hold back. I don’t know if its because I think of the pain I will cause those who care about me or if I’m not brave enough to do it.

Whatever the reasons are that people choose to end their life may seem trivial to you and I, but to that person they are everything. Thoughts consume you if you let them and sometimes some of us aren’t strong enough to keep walking through that dark forest until we see the sun. If we as a society were more open about mental health issues instead of hiding behind stigma, we could prevent loss of life.

I hope the person that died found the comfort and freedom they were looking for in those final moments and I hope their family can understand their reasons. Mostly I just hope we can all start being a bit more sympathetic and a lot less dickish.

Just remember that when you think all is lost, find that tiny bit of hope deep in you and keep going. It does get better eventually.

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