I saw a woman jumping to her death.
She is a regular at medical emergency for suicide attempts or parasuicide (nobody seems to know). She always manages to run away before she is taken to the Psychiatry ward. Did you know that women are less often successful at suicide attempts than men? It is because they tend to go for “softer” methods.
She locked herself in the bathroom. Everyone started freaking out. The security guards kicked the door from its hinges. They caught her by her arms as she was jumping from the window sill.
I cried. She is breathing, but I have never seen such lifeless eyes. I have never seen one who did not want to live quite that much. I wanted to be angry: here we were, trying to save lives in an overflowing hospital, and she was trying to take hers. I wanted to be angry. But I couldn’t.
She is alive. Her shoulders were dislocated from the force of being caught and dragged back inside, but otherwise she is physically unscathed. But I have never seen such hopelessness.
She is alive, and still I will never forget that image.
I don’t know what is wrong with the world, or perhaps it is this time of the year (Spring is such a beautiful time). This year I have seen too many of these cases, mostly overdoses. Let’s not wait for a National Suicide Prevention day or month or whatever. It’s not just the job of shrinks and psychiatrists to help.
I shudder at the thought of feeling that life is so horrible that you cannot continue. I can’t imagine of desolate one must feel.