When Another Suicide Shakes Us: What Are We Missing?


Today began with the devastating news of yet another suicide within our family’s close circle. Each time such news breaks, the narrative often turns to blame. “How could they do this? Didn’t they think of their family?” These questions haunt conversations. But is that really the core of why someone, especially a child, takes such an irreversible step?

I find myself wondering—what must have been their last thoughts? Was it the fear of embarrassing their loved ones? Or the belief that they had committed an unforgivable mistake? Did they feel like a failure in the eyes of their parents, teachers, or society? Could their path have changed if they had access to someone—a trusted circle, a mental health professional—who could hold them and tell them, “You are more than this mistake. You will be okay.”

This news took me back to my own past, to a time when I struggled with similar thoughts. I remember the harm I caused myself, the shame that followed, and the helplessness of feeling like there was no other way. As a child, small moments of anger would drive me to hit my head against a wall. I didn’t do it for attention—I hid it. I didn’t know how to process overwhelming feelings, and hurting myself felt like the only outlet.

My first suicide attempt embarrassed me, then. The trigger was something trivial—a mistake, being questioned about my behavior at the hostel. At that moment, I truly believed I couldn’t recover from it. Now, looking back, I realize the event didn’t warrant such an extreme reaction. But I didn’t know what else to do. I was paralyzed by fear and shame. Fortunately, I lacked the knowledge that might have made the attempt successful.

Years later, I understand that mental health struggles are not uncommon, yet so many suffer in silence. I spent years thinking that everyone thought like I did, that it was normal to have suicidal thoughts or to self-harm in moments of distress. It was only when I shared this with my husband that I realized—this is not common.

It took immense effort, therapy, journaling, meditation, and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) to reach where I am today. I’ve spent months challenging my beliefs and unlearning harmful patterns. I’ve learned that you don’t have to act on every thought you have. Thoughts can be challenged; beliefs can be questioned. I remind myself that I am no longer in those situations, no longer helpless.

It hasn’t been easy, but it has been worth it. Small victories, like not succumbing to self-harm for the last 8 months, feel monumental. The need for perfection—whether it’s impressing guests or managing my relationships—is slowly decreasing. I used to throw plates if my husband was late for a meal. I’ve thrown phones out of fear of being negatively evaluated. For so long, I believed that I was bad and would never measure up.

Now, I’m learning to be kinder to myself. I’m allowing myself to be imperfect, to take life less personally, and to be comfortable just being me. It’s not about achieving happiness; it’s about realizing that I can survive mistakes, that I am more than my failures or fears.

But I didn’t do this alone—I had help. And that’s what I wish for everyone who feels like they’re drowning: access to help. I wish schools taught psychology and counseling as essential life skills. I wish children knew that their struggles are valid, that they don’t have to face them alone, and that mistakes don’t define their worth.

Every time we hear about a suicide, we ask “how” and “why.” But we must also ask ourselves, “What are we missing as parents, as teachers, as friends, as a society?” Mental health support, compassion, and early intervention can save lives. I know this because I’ve been there.

To anyone struggling: you are not your worst moment. You are more than your mistakes. There is help, and life can take care of you—if you let it.

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