#anthony bourdain is having the best day of his afterlife right now

[saturn-garden]

KISSINGER IS DEAD SOMEONE GET THE CRABS IT IS TIME TO RAVE

[lizziexazz]

When Our Heroes Become Helpless

In the recent years, we’ve lost many idols to suicide. On Wikipedia, there is a list of public figures who had committed suicide, complete with methods and rationalised with reasons. Countless tragedies reduced to a statistic.

After each death, we often say how depression doesn’t have a face, it doesn’t have a bias in choosing its victims.

Robin Williams devoted his life to making us laugh. Chester Bennington bravely bared his soul in his music; birthing anthems of our youth. Avicii created music that allowed us to dance our pain away. Kate Spade painted our world in bright, bold colours to wash out our grey days.  And Anthony. Anthony Bourdain took us around the world; inviting us to live vicariously through him.

What happens to us when our heroes become helpless? 

They seem to have had everything life could offer- the best jobs, devoted fans, fame and fortune. While the rest of us are struggling in our pursuit of happiness, they seem to have found the answers.

Yet they decide that none of that brought them peace, and perhaps it is only in death that one can truly be free.

Some argue that suicide is an act of cowardice. Of course, the only people making this argument have never taken their own lives, so how can we assume that the final moments of one’s life before ending it was filled with fear?

I think suicide not only takes courage - to stare death in the face and say “I’m going out on my own terms”- but it’s also so calculated, so methodical, carried out after so many fantasies where we imagine every possible way to end it all, that a coward could never see it through. A coward would give up. If it is in our nature to fear the unknown, then death would be the most frightful thing of all.

Some also suggest that by killing yourself, you’ve given up on life. Give up, as if these people volunteered themselves to defeat. I think suicidal people battle their demons every day, fighting for a reason to live, to break through the bleakness of life when you realise how small and insignificant you are in the grand scheme of things. I think those who turn to suicide didn’t give up, but instead have nothing left to give.

It is a painful reminder to us when we learn that our heroes are not the invincible icons we perceive them to be. That they are as human and as fragile as we are. That suffering and jadedness can happen even to the most fortunate among us. 

When news breaks out that a celebrity had committed suicide, we are launched into this discourse of mental health, of seeking help. To reach out to our friends, to be better support systems to those who need it. I often reflect: Am I a good friend? Have I missed certain signs? How can I do better, I MUST be better.

Yet while I think it is our duty to make this life as rich and joyful as possible for our loved ones, I think it is also important to understand that it should be our basic human right to take ownership of our own lives.

Many, especially those who are religious, would say this is Pride. Muslims and I think Christians too, believe that those who commit suicide would never get into Heaven, that it is the biggest sin God would never forgive.

Now, I have never been a religious person. I believe in humanity, in being a good person and to give back to this Earth for all the wealth we have received from it. So I don’t invest my time on this planet as a deposit for the afterlife. I believe this is the only life we have and must make the most of it.

But in believing that, I also feel that no one else gets to define how to live our lives.

That if we reach a point where we feel "I have lived the best life I can, or I’ve had my fill of despair, and I am ready to go now”, that it is cruel to further imprison us on this planet simply because our jailers can’t bear the heartbreak they would inevitably inherit from us. I think the pain they would feel is but a drop of the daily poison we imbibe called depression.

I think one of the reasons we feel anger and betrayal at those who leave us by suicide is because we were exempted from the final chapter of their lives. We had no say in the matter, we were ‘robbed’ of the chance to make any amends or say all we needed to say. It is selfish, I believe, to be angry at those who kill themselves, because even in their death, we are still only thinking of our own pain. As a person who struggles with suicidal thoughts (and previous attempts), I believe many others who feel suicidal place everyone else’s happiness before their own; that to finally end their lives meant that for once, they want to put their own needs first. Days when all you saw was a brave, strong person, we are looking at all of you as those who we just couldn’t bring ourselves to hurt, even if it meant we had to endure the pain on our own. We go on living for your benefit. So, do not say that suicide is selfish when it is the living who had selfishly forced them to deny the peace they were pursuing.

That being said, I do wish that before our heroes killed themselves, that they know just how much they meant to this world. They touched our lives, even changed it. I hope they know how sorry we are if the pedestal that we had them bound to, made their lives that much lonelier and tragic.

And I hope they know that even though at times like these, when their deaths make us doubt that there could be hope for the rest of us, I wish they knew that in their brief lives, they made ours worth living.