A lot has happened since I came back from my holidays. My original plan was to write a post about the trips and share my experiences alongside some photos. However, that’s the main problem with plans, they sometimes do not follow through. Things have been difficult for many many reasons and I managed to lose some interest in this blog. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that I have been learning to control myself and my emotions a lot more without needing this blog as my escape, as my coping mechanism. However, here I am today, 00:23 writing when I need to get up earlier to go see the doctors before work.
The thing is, today I found out that a friend committed suicide approximately three weeks ago, yes, three weeks ago. None of our common friends were aware of what had happened till today and we are all shocked. I had known her for two years and I witnessed her mental health decaying, I also witnessed her seeking support and being hospitalised. It was not easy, especially when we are talking about a woman in her early 30s. A beautiful person inside out, sweet, polite, considerate, supportive of others. She made me smile countless times. I saw her at the end of July just before going away on holidays and she was looking better, her eyes still had some sparkle despite being slightly wide whenever she spoke. She seemed to be under medication but she managed to recognise me on a London bus. If you have heard or seen anything about London’s public transportation, you will know that recognising people sometimes can be tough. But she saw me, she approached me and we spoke for a short time. She told me how she was feeling better and had so many plans for her life and her children’s life. Yes, she was a mother of three.
I’m still in denial. I struggle to accept how she would reach such a level of sadness and depression when she still had plans and was eager to talk about them. That last hug now feels painful. It hurts because I wish I could have done something to help her. I know it was completely out of my hands and she must have been so desperate to think that death was the only way out, she was so in love with her children, she cared so much for them… I cannot understand why she did this and I know I will never fully understand it. How could I? How could anyone understand when we will never know the struggles she was facing every single day of her life. This entire situation makes me wonder how many people are in pain and feel they cannot speak up despite having friends and family around. How many people must feel that there is no other way… I just wish she had seen the light at the end of the tunnel, her children need her, they will always miss mum and live with her suicide over their shoulders, haunting them. Finding out about her death three weeks after was also terrifying on its own. Why did it take us so long to find out. Why? We all have so many questions that will remain unanswered. No one will ever know the truth.
Rest in Paradise beautiful.