When It Becomes Too Much

TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with a subject matter that some people might find triggering.

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Eight carriages.

One hundred and twenty tons.

20 miles per hour.

It would have been so easy.

One last breath.

One last heartbeat.

Before the void had swallowed me whole.

I'd just read something that had left me debating my future. In a matter of moments, the crushing blackness of depression had changed me from happy-go-lucky to tired and weary, settling over me as quickly as the coming of winter. My heart and soul ached and my eyes stung with tears. Suddenly everything I was working towards felt pointless and I wondered why I was wasting my time.

Standing on the platform at Queensway Station, I realised how easy it would be to just step out into nothing. It would have erased so many problems. The feeling of hopelessness would have been snuffed out in the flash of a Tube train's headlights.

As I waited for those lights to pierce through the darkness, other thoughts began to cross my mind.

The train driver. How will they feel?

My family.

My friends.

The million and one other things I want to do with my life.

The things I want to say to people before my time's up.

The words people have said to me in recent months.

The tears continued to well up. The pain in my body was all to real, the dulled emotions I was feeling causing me to feel heavy and ill.

I wanted it to end.

I couldn't take it any more.

I'd already suffered for so long, the constant up and down of my moods grinding me down. Life, in that moment, was awful and, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the break I needed. My life was useless and hopeless. Why bother continuing? Why not just end it?

There's the rumble of an oncoming train. The warm rush of air in the tunnel. The bright orbs at the front of the train appear from the darkness.

I take a deep breath and watch as it closes in on the platform. This was it. I could do it. Wipe it out and go somewhere better.

The whoosh of the train racing into the station. The squeal of the brakes. Taking a deep breath, I took a step forward and boarded. A moment later the doors hissed closed behind me. I shut my eyes and leaned against the plastic wall before placing a hand over my heart.

I'm still here. That beating in my chest is the reason I'm here. It wasn't time to go yet.

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If you're affected by anything written in this post, please speak to someone. You can find a list of helplines (sorted by country) on this website.

Look after yourself and don't let anyone dictate to you what your life should be like. It's your life. Live it as you see fit.

Dear Internet

Dear Internet,

Can we please pause and take a collective breath?

Recently I've been horrified to read a number of news stories of people who've killed themselves because they've been bullied on Facebook, or Twitter, or Tumblr, or some other random website. You may sit there and think, "Well, they shouldn't have taken it so seriously".

No, it shouldn't have happened. It should never happen. Unfortunately it does.

I know that people will always argue. It's part of who we are. It's part of life and of having an opinion. But, with the internet, you don't know how a person is feeling. You don't know if they're happy, sad, or if they've just lost their lifelong partner. You can't see them so you can't read their emotions. They may have told you that they're happy while, on the inside, they're screaming for help.

I know because I've done that. I, like many millions around the world, have been bullied both in real life, and online. I've been bullied for my accent, for my hair, for my clothes, because of where I'm from, because of my weight. I've been called names, been ridiculed in public, been screamed at on forums. I've been torn apart for the pettiest, most trivial things.

It takes courage to be able to walk away from it all, to tell yourself that you're better than it. Unfortunately, some people don't have that courage and they see the only way out through dying. What a waste of a life. What a waste of potential. That person who killed themselves because someone on Facebook called them fat? They could have cured cancer. They could have saved your pet's life. They could have been the one who established life on Mars. They could have. They could have. They could have.

I've been in the sad situation of having to counsel people who've lost ones through bullying and it's never pleasant. Often the victim has plastered on a face, hiding what they're really feeling. The question which always gets asked is "Why?". Why didn't they say something? Why didn't they get help? Why couldn't I see there was something wrong? Why couldn't I help? Why? Why? Why?

So please, before you hit that "Send" key, think. What are you saying? Would you want to be the target of that? How would you feel if it were you? Take a deep breath and walk away. It's not worth it. It's not worth the pain and the tears and the heartache.

So please, let's have some civility and thoughtfulness for others. If you're a victim, please seek help. There's plenty of people who will help you find a way out, and never forget that someone, somewhere, loves you. If you see if happening, whether in real life or online, please step in and stop it. You never know, you might save a life.

All our love,
The World.