And there will be light

Trigger warning: This essay contains a non-graphic mention of a cricketer’s suicide.

There are empathetic words.  There are thoughtful gestures.  There are meaningful actions.  And there is, “A Day for Thorpey.”  The great former English cricketer Graham Thorpe had died by suicide a year ago.  In his honor and in a quest to raise awareness of mental health issues, the Surrey cricket authorities designed this past Friday (Thorpe’s birth anniversary) as “A Day for Thorpey,” mobilizing fundraising for Mind, a charity organization.  Several current and former cricketers partook willingly in this noble cause.  But one tribute stood out to me.  It was by Thorpe’s friend and teammate, Nasser Hussain.  He wrote a moving tribute to Thorpe.  One line, in particular, was moving: “He was always there for me in my darkest moments really and that was really what I was saddest about now that I was not there for him in his darkest times.”

Over the past few years, there has been an increased awareness of the insidious and debilitating effects of depression.  The messily tangled threads of societal stigma and callous insensitivity that were once intertwined into our collective thinking are being gradually extricated from the mental fiber of our society.  But are we at an ideal state yet?  I think that the answer is evident from the sufferings of the Thorpes of this world and their caregivers.

I want to delve a little deeper into the line that Hussain wrote about not being “there” for Thorpe.  In the same article, he wrote about the number of times that he wanted to reach out to Thorpe but a fear of stating the wrong thing led to delay and demur.  Firstly, I sincerely hope that Hussain does not live in regret.  Because his predicament was real and understandable.  It is never easy to reach out to someone in mental distress (especially if we are not professionally qualified) when they have not explicitly stated that they would like to discuss their problems with us.  And if and when we do, we may not always– best intentions notwithstanding – help them in a way that would benefit them. 

The difficulties that people face, are complex and varied and may not come with easy solutions.  But I will point out three things that I believe rarely work.  The first is expressing haste in offering a solution.  The second is to make one feel like they might be better off ‘ignoring’ or ‘reacting less’ to the problem(s) that they are facing.  And the third is to paint an unrealistically rosy picture of the present or the future, in a bid to give them hope.  The truth is, all three of these may have been done with genuine care, affection and a sincere desire to help.  But whenever I have gone through periods of mental turmoil, none of the above has worked for me in improving my mental wellbeing.

Some people believe in taking a journey inward to process their feelings and arrive at a homeostasis.  Others may be distinctly more comfortable in sharing, with trained professionals or otherwise.  Some may expect support from people whom they consider their support system.  Others might not wait for anyone to check in on them.  The point is, the level of comfort that one may have in opening up about their travails, differs from person to person.  For instance, one would never know what Thorpe would have truly benefited from.  As Hussain notes, even when people visited Thorpe’s house to check on him, he would not want to get out of bed to see them.  Having seen him as a nimble-footed batsman, Hussain alludes that Thorpe’s emotionally paralyzed state would have been a tragedy to witness in person.

There are multiple accounts of Thorpe’s loving wife and children (not to mention, his friends) all striving to pull him out of the depressive state of mind that he was in.  Sometimes, a sufferer might be so deep into a dark tunnel with their eyes tightly shut, that they might not be able to see their loved ones holding a light for them.  They may not be able to hear their loved ones say, “this too shall pass.”  Writer Sujatha once said that it is important to believe in at least one thing “unquestioningly.”  Some people might have a supreme power as their anchor.  I have a support system as an anchor.  The way I interpret Sujatha’s line is that during tough times, we need to hold onto something to keep us going.  An anchor that makes us believe – “unquestioningly” – that there will be better times ahead.  That there is meaning in living life.  That we have a sense of purpose that will drive us in the right path. 

An almost blind faith or belief – be it in fellow human beings, God, or anything else – is what could enable one to open their eyes to the paths and possibilities that could lie ahead, be it therapy, tapping more into one’s support system for perspective, or other coping mechanisms.  Seeking professional help is not a sign of weakness.  Instead, it should be seen as a sign of one empowering oneself with a validated, even if underutilized, approach to chip away at their struggles.  And as one works out an approach, they should give themselves the license to share only what they want, with whom they want. 

At various points in my life, I have been the recipient of immense kindness, sensitivity and thoughtfulness.  I would like to think that in a few instances, I have been able to extend a bit of emotional support to others.  At the same time, I am acutely aware of the fact that I have felt let down by people of whom I expected more, during trying times.  And I have also disappointed people by not being there for them when a little more time and attention from me may have been welcome.  I don’t think that I am alone in having gone through these myriad experiences.  I just wish that there comes a time in the future where breakthrough advances in the fields of psychology and psychiatry create a lasting impact on people’s lives.  Until then, let us hope that when people feel beset by darkness, they find a way to convince themselves that there will be light.  And one day, when they are able to be so, they may be that light.