They said "I'm Fine" and we didn't ask again: The Importance of Suicide Prevention
By: Mukelani Cele
Septemember is Suicide Prevention. However, This article isnt about encouraging you to "stay strong," or about providing you with yet another motivational qoute , hashtag, or well-crafted awareness billboard assuring you that tomorrow will be better. Because sometimes it doesn't feel better to wait till tomorrow. Sometimes the weight is still there when you wake up. There are times when you participate in conversation, attend lectures, turn in homework, and smile at your pals without anybody seeing that you cried all night. There are moments when you laugh so loudly that no one can hear how much you wish to temporarily vanish. And sometimes the person who is barely holding themself together is the one who everyone believes is doing the best.
We must discuss that painful fact. Every suicide and mental health statistic has a human behind it. A name, face, companion, daughter, son, a fellow student, someone's favourite person or a partner. Since statistics are more palatable than anecdotes, we frequently discuss suicide using them. However, numbers cannot provide you with information about the person who stopped responding to messages. They are unable to provide you with any information on the student who abruptly stopped attending class. They are unable to describe the individual seated in the front of the lecture hall, gazing at their notes while fighting mental turmoil that no one is aware of. They are unable to describe the individual who returns home, shuts the bedroom door, and ultimately lets themselves crumble. And you may be that person.
Gen Z has mastered the art of pretending. We've perfected the skill of appearing fine while disintegrating in silence. We are supposed to be attractive, well-educated, aspirational, successful monetarily, physically fit, socially engaged, emotionally secure, and somehow have our whole lives worked out. We graduate, secure employment, earn money, uphold relationships, provide for our families, and grin for Instagram as if fatigue is just the cost of success. "I just need to be stronger," we tell ourselves. However, being strong does not mean carrying everything in silence. Sometimes crying is a sign of strength. Sometimes it's as simple as saying, "I'm tired." "I do not know what I am doing anymore" is what it sometimes says. Sometimes it involves begging someone over the phone, "Can you please stay with me?" Rebellion is emotion. Being human is resistance in a society where perfectionism is the norm.
Additionally, we have been persuaded that there is an easy fix for every issue.
We're constantly told about multiple ways to cope, medication, therapy, taking walks, journaling and so forth, however we use these as a sheild to persuade ourselves that you we're okay when in reality we arent. it's important to know that we can't buy our way out of sorrow. Trauma cannot be overcome by swallowing. Sometimes we need people instead of another product. Sometimes we need someone prepared to sit next to us without attempting to correct us right away,or someone to say, "I am not going to leave you alone, even though I may not fully understand what you are going through." Healing sometimes starts with being heard.
Additionally, we must cease elevating fatigue as evidence of our merit. It shouldn't be considered a badge of honour to study through the night, survive on coffee, finish three assignments, attend every class, and have no time at all. You are still worthy of achievement despite your tiredness. Laziness is not the same as rest, survival is rest. it's impeartive rhat as a society we cling onto the fact that Academic achievement is not a gauge of ones selfworth , and how productive one might or might not be is not our identity. You're allowed to take a break from academics, allowed to go to sleep, allowed to breathe, and allowed to have days when the most significant thing you do is nothing at all. You don't need to continuously demonstrate your value to be granted permission to exist.
Perhaps this is the most crucial thing we can say in September: I'm happy you're still here. Not because you've achieved success, not because you passed a test, turned in an assignment, made your parents proud, but because you have chosen to live when you've been given every reason not to. Your life is important. Nawe uwumuntu,unegazi elihamba emithanjeni yakho in English this means that You too are a human being; you have blood flowing through your veins. And your presence shouldn't ever need to be validated by an accomplishment. You are allowed to acknowledge that you are exhausted, allowed to express your pain.
Perhaps, one day, you will look back at the night you thought you could not survive and realise it was not the end of your story, only the page you rarely turned. I am pleading with you my sister or brother, stay long enough to meet the version of you that this pain has not yet introduced you to. We love you and we still want to see you thrive. A quote by an anonymous person, "I'd rather listen to your story, than attend your funeral"
Article edited by: Munei Zoe Mbedzi
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