He did not want to die. He just wanted the pain to stop

At 1:48 p.m. on Wednesday afternoon, a man picked up a gun and ended his life.

This happened in the middle of a normal day while life continued around him. People having lunch, sending emails, selling things in the market, crossing roads, attending meetings, digging in their gardens, making phone calls. Inside all that ordinary life, someone decided they could not carry their pain anymore.What kind of pain leads a human being to the point where death is less frightening than facing tomorrow?

I keep finding myself thinking not even about the act itself, but the hours before it. What was he feeling? What does hopelessness sound like inside someone’s mind? Did he wake up already exhausted by life, or did something happen that day? Had he been struggling quietly for months? Did anyone notice? Did he try to ask for help without directly asking for help? Did he become withdrawn? Irritable? Quieter? Did he joke more than usual? Did he suddenly look calmer after a long period of distress? Was there a moment, even a small one, where somebody could have interrupted his darkness?

Could it maybe be that frightening thing about emotional pain that hides inside functioning people who still report to work, greet others, laugh a little here are there, and say, "I am fine."

Usually after incidences like this happen, we become detectives of warning signs.

"He had changed."
"He became quiet."
"He seemed stressed."
"He looked fine."

But what does "fine" even mean anymore these days?

People are tired. They are emotionally tired, financially tired and mentally tired. There is the pressure to survive, perform, to keep going, stay functional, remain reachable, responsive, productive, and many people have become experts at looking okay while quietly falling apart.

Especially men. Many men are taught how to endure pressure, not how to emotionally fall apart safely. So the pain goes somewhere else like into silence, alcohol, anger, isolation, etc, and sometimes, unbearably, into tragedy.

I do not think everyone who ends their life necessarily wants to die. Sometimes maybe they just want the pain to stop. And maybe the truly heartbreaking thing is that they can no longer imagine another way for it to stop.

How many people around us are quietly drowning while still functioning normally? Have we created spaces where people can honestly say, "I am not okay"? Do we really listen when people speak, or do we rush to advise, dismiss, spiritualise, or move on? Have we become too busy to notice suffering unless it becomes catastrophic.

What does it mean for a person to reach the point of pain that leads them to the edge? I do not know. I do not have answers here, mostly questions.

So from where my feet are, let this Mental Health Month serve as a reminder to be gentler with ourselves and with each other. Let us check in properly and take people seriously when they say they are tired. This is a reminder to speak out when the weight becomes too heavy, and to listen when others are trying, however imperfectly, to tell us they are struggling. Not everybody carrying pain looks broken. Some people are still laughing, working, showing up, and silently fighting battles the rest of us cannot see.