There is a place in England west of Eastbourne. It is known as Beachy Head. It is part of the Seven Sisters, a cliff formation on the Channel coast. Beachy Head is also referred to as the “Cliffs of Despair” in Tom Hunt’s book of the same title (Tyrean Martinsson’s book has thrown me another curve ball here!). It is one of those most popular locations sought out by suicidal people because jumping down from Beachy Head is a dead-sure thing in 99 percent of the cases.
In my native town of Stuttgart, there was a tower of despair – the TV tower that was the model for Seattle’s Space Needle. I remember that during all of my childhood there were newspaper articles about people who jumped to their death from the observation deck, and I was always wary when up there whether anybody would do it while there were other visitors. Legend had it that one person jumped and ended up crashing through the tarp of a passing moving truck, ending up (and surviving) on a sofa. It would have been as impossible as Puccini’s Tosca jumping from the pinnacles of Rome’s Castel Sant’Angelo into the river Tiber … Those news articles seemed so outlandish … Until one of my teachers (English and sports), a bright, handsome young man of 26 years, took his life by jumping. It was shocking to say the least. I’ll never forget that day in 6th grade. They put up high grills later. Too late for this young man.
Cliffs of Despair … How do we know that somebody has mentally arrived in such a place? When it is still such a stigma to be judged mentally ill, how would anybody entrust somebody else with their situation? Especially when medication often enough enables people to keep a bright, smiling front to others. Like a former classmate and friend’s mother who took pills to end her life. Like a friend’s father who jumped from his office window. We only seem to learn the full truth when we are facing the loss.
So, if we can’t sense the despair, how can we hold them back from that final, fatal, physical step? Aren’t we, as a judgmental society with our craving for perfection, such a cliff in ourselves? Would I perceive if anybody in my vicinity nursed the thought of suicide, and would I be able to talk them out of it in hinting that there is always another option? A mental jump away from the abyss. Prayers and trusting in an Almighty presence who will help? Or talking openly about the angst, the despair to somebody sworn to professional secrecy, such as a therapist or a theologian?
Maybe we have been in place close by, ourselves, and our own silence about our despair discourages others to open up. A career becoming a dead-end. Betrayal from a friend or family. Mobbing. Abuse. All causes that make us think that we are worthless and that there is no way out of the situation. But if we manage to get there mentally, there always is. A change of career. An open word with those friends or family members, even if it ends in closing doors – others WILL open. Seeking alliance with others away from the mob, the abuser.
The Cliff of Despair around here is the Narrows Bridge. It is the railroad tracks. It’s a shot-gun. An over-dose. Oh, so many dreadful ways to exit a life that has so many more opportunities if only one manages to walk around the bend mentally.
Can we be more open-minded? Take away the stigma, so people confide more? So we can support them on their way back to hope and even anticipation of what wonderful things they might yet discover in their journey on earth?
Your turn to ponder!
At least two people I’ve known to take their own life were often downbeat about their situation at one point and the next time I talked with them they were as happy as could be; having made the decision, one said she was on her way to Oregon on a trip. The other person didn’t seem so happy but wanted to make sure I was; asking about how things were with me, going on without much about his situation. Those kinds of conversations are often clues to a suicidal bent.
With hindsight, Paul. I know people with PTSD who seemed so unstable that I was scared for them; these days they are calm and happy. Didn’t expect that to happen either. Their trauma is real, but they got themselves help. And the help helped. I wish there was a guarantee for help to succeed or to know when to help.
The effort put into teaching one another there is a stigma to mental illnesses has not been wasted, we readily accept the lesson. I have no understanding of the eagerness to do so.
Harold A Maio
Is there really any effort involved, Harold? Anybody different from what and who we are is regarded with distrust, which is a self-protection mechanism, I guess. We are tribal people. If somebody is different, they don’t belong. Now put that mysterious label “mentally ill” on them, and they are put in a corner where hardly anybody dares approach anymore. We’re phobic of the unknown.
While this prompt can definitely be read in a serious tone, I have to admit I was thinking of Princess Bride when I wrote it down, although I believe a true reference to the movie would make them the Cliffs of Insanity instead of Despair. Really, these prompts can go just about any way you want to take them, but yes, we need to have compassion for those who struggle with depression, despair, and suicidal ideation, or suicidal thoughts. After experiencing my own struggles and seeing others experience them, knowing family members and friends who have attempted or committed suicide, I know that it is a mental health issue that cannot be easily seen, heard, or overcome. Depression can come from a chemical imbalance, but it can also come after/during a physical illness, surgeries, spiritual attack, or other changes in life which cause deep grief or a loss of a sense of self. It’s a serious issue and one we need to speak up about often. So, while I wrote this prompt in a place of health and while thinking of a comedic movie, it is a serious prompt when we consider it as a real issue and not a place in a fantasy movie setting. However, I think that using these kinds of prompts, even in a semi-serious setting of a fantasy movie/novel, we can start to discuss them, pull them apart, and consider how to approach mental health issues. In the movie the Princess Bride, the characters scale the Cliffs of Insanity as part of stopping a nefarious plot to start a war and while this is all treated as a lark, there is a serious undertone. One of the things I love about writing fantasy is that we can touch on some of these larger issues while putting them in a different place, possibly treating them as something we can scale and conquer (as they do in the movie), and while that may not be realistic to how things work in real life, I think it’s good to consider how we can both live with/accept these issues and empower others to live life well.
Thank you so much for sharing these great thoughts, Tyrean! Fantasy as an alternative place to deal with serious topics … that is an interesting approach. Though, of course, it shouldn’t be new to me. After all, all the classical myths deal with those metaphorically, and Fantasy, methinks, takes the archetypes from those myths. But do people who deal with these issues understand that they are talked to when reading about their issue on a more imaginary level? Would be interesting …