- Jo Lynn Chong
Hold On: A Story on Mental Illness
It was 11:19 a.m. on the 14th of July, 2020 when his death struck me. It was suicide.
The colours faded as my hands fumbled around to hold my basketball in place as I pocketed my iPhone which had informed me about the tragic news. The walk back from the basketball court to my bedroom felt like a dream. My mind devised a plan; disorientated, I didn’t know how I managed to keep quiet and continued to check Turnitin on my laptop for my Social Science assignment.
A part of me didn’t want to face the truth. He was my cousin whom I have known since I was young. Although we weren’t really close at all, the news of him committing that almost unspeakable act shocked me to the core.
Nevertheless, I didn’t want to make my mother more worried. She was already anxious enough most of the time. Hence, with a nonchalant tone as best as I could manage, I told my mother, who was standing near the dining table, “Mummy, *tang ge passed away already oh.”
"Yeah, I know", she replied as she immediately ran over to me... "How do you feel?"
Brushing away her attempt to ensure I wasn’t too affected by the news, I, instead, brooded over her reaction. Compared to the expression that she wore on her face when I myself was on the brink of suicide a few years ago, it couldn’t have been more different. Back then, I was still struggling with my own mental illnesses; however, my mother would reprimand me in the most brutal way that I would lock myself in my room to cry just because I felt so wronged by her. Now, seeing her full of pity for *tang ge’s death, a spark of scorn for her couldn’t help but brew in my heart. My wretched soul screamed, but you never showed me pity before! Nevertheless, I understood that my mother herself struggled as well. It is unfortunate that our society does not equip parents with proper guidance to care for their mentally ill children.
After that, many of the uncles and aunts, who rarely spoke well of *tang ge attended his wake and funeral. They were people who called him lazy and weak when he was still alive. I felt sorry for *tang ge. It seemed that the disparaging sentiment surrounding his existence prevailed even after his death. People were whispering in the funeral hall softly as if the whole event was something to be ashamed of. Despite this, I believed that a hint of indescribable remorse was planted inside everyone in the family; nobody ever thought that his mental condition was serious enough to result in suicide.
I, however, recognise many of the condescending remarks that *tang ge had to endure in our society today. They are abundant in schools, workplaces, neighbourhoods, and in families. Every day, people like us express their sneers and mock the mentally disabled because we think they do not live up to our expectations. We live in a judgemental society that has little tolerance for those who are seen as deviant, underprivileged, or marginalised, such as the mentally disabled community. Surely, it's not up to us to judge and belittle others. Yet, we find ourselves doing it so easily. Why can’t we seem to grasp the significance of the concept of humanity? That everyone is equal, mentally disabled or not.
And for those who are currently struggling with their mental health, know that sometimes, in the wake of reality, it may feel like life’s not worth living and we wonder how long we’ll stay alive. Sometimes, it feels like the world stops and we don’t know what we’re hiding from anymore. Sometimes, it feels like our hearts run out of warmth and we don’t know where else to run to. Know, however, that mental struggles come in different colours and shades for everyone. No one gets it the same. And if anyone ever tells you that you’re inferior, or that you’re not strong, or that you’re not putting in enough effort into living, know that it's never your fault for feeling inadequate. So take back that “I hate myself” and just try to hold on. Yes, even if it’s just for a millionth of a second.
Hold on.
*tang ge- Chinese for older cousin brother (who has the same surname as you)
This short story was written after an unfortunate event that happened to someone I know. I understand that suicide is not uncommon and that despite efforts trying to raise awareness about mental illnesses, many in our society are still suffering deeply from it due to a lack of guidance and support. Hence, my purpose in writing this story is to hopefully raise more awareness on a yet to be well-received topic in our society, which is mental illnesses.