The Abyss

2010. I spent New Years Eve on a train. A journey that should have taken three hours, took closer to seven or eight. The reason? En-route, in separate incidents, our train killed two people. Each by their own design.

I could not empathise with these other human beings who chose to end their existence by throwing themselves in front of several thousand tons of speeding metal.

It was beyond my understanding why they might think that, at best, instantaneous death, or at worst the prolonged agony caused by a mistimed jump would be preferable to going home that night to celebrate the dawn of a new decade.

More pressingly, I could not relate to these people. They were clearly different to me. Suicide was obviously ‘very sad’ (duh), but not a problem that me or those like me would ever face.

So I resorted to the trope of the uneducated or fearful or ignorant. “Suicide. How selfish”.

How little did I know…

Fast forward to late 2019. I am a supposedly successful professional earning good money, married, and father of a beautiful newborn. Life should be good. Life should be more than good.

So why am I stood on a train station platform, emotionally empty and psychologically numb, save for a macabre curiosity about how it would feel to step in front of the next passing train?

Not actively preparing to jump. But not entirely discounting the proposition. A creeping interest. An uncomfortable curiosity. With the discomfort rapidly (and worryingly) decreasing.

Closer than I have ever been to the literal and metaphorical edge. Staring into the abyss. But not quite willing or able to step into it. Yet.

I subsequently learned that passive suicidal ideations are a not unusual outcome of desperately wanting to escape one’s circumstances. But getting help to improve one’s circumstances is the answer, rather than following through on the ultimate self-destructive impulse.

A brief period taking anti-depressant medication was my run-flat, whilst Cognitive Behavioural Therapy enabled me to change my tyre.

If you are not on the edge and somebody confides in you that they are:

Please. They are desperate but they trust you. Encourage them to ask for professional help. Try not to judge them. At least whilst in their presence.

We, including you, are all only a few circumstances removed from the abyss. Illnesses of the mind do not discriminate. Even those at their lowest can be healed. And even those not yet at their lowest might have contemplated what it would be like to step in front of that train.

Look after yourself, as well. It’s gritty stuff and you’ll need a release.

If you are on the edge. Please ask for help. Dial one of the numbers below. Speak to a friend. Speak to a doctor. Trust me. It gets better. I promise.

I know that I have healed. Now, when a train passes at high speed, I once again slightly involuntarily shiver. That is my mind reminding me that I want to live. And that, is a wonderful reminder indeed.

Samaritans: 116 123

Campaign Against Living Miserably (CALM): 0800 58 58 58 (5pm - midnight)

Childline: 0800 1111

Give Us A SHOUT: Free Text 85258

Combat Stress (serving armed forces personnel and families): 0800 323 4444

Combat Stress (veterans and families): 0800 138 1619