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First, Kate Spade.
And now, Anthony Bourdain.
Among hundreds of others who take their lives, and shall remain faceless, anonymous and unheard.
Neither do I have any way of knowing what might or might not have happened, nor am I an authority on any of this, but I am a bystander who feels chillingly complicit every single time.
Every death is a startling reminder:
We need to pull ourselves out from inside, claw at the mask, no matter how stubbornly it sticks, excavate the grimy details and lay it all out.
No one has it easy. And no one deserves to be dismissed.
We don't get to decide for others.
We don't get to call the deaths "selfish".
We don't get to stigmatise mental illness.
My timeline has been filled today with dozens of posts about mental illness, the stigma surrounding it, suicide, depression and the IMMEDIATE need to talk.
With others.
To ourselves.
Among ourselves.
Perhaps we are not letting our hair down enough. Entangled in a pacey whirlpool that juggles work, social connections and expectations, perhaps we are forgetting to slow down...
Take a break. Talk to someone who makes us feel better.
We've got to figure out personalised remedies and feel absolutely no shame, embarrassment or inhibition, while doing so.
The mind feels like a gargantuan Pandora's Box, ready to brandish a new card every single time I feel like I've seen it all.
None of us have.
We're all getting by...
HOPEFULLY, with a little help from people around who understand.
(If you have suicidal thoughts, or if you know someone who needs help, please refer to this state-wise list of credible mental health professionals.)
(At The Quint, we question everything. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member today.)
Published: 09 Jun 2018,06:47 PM IST