Loving and helping your loved ones who are depressed

The first time I heard the word “suicide”, I was a J.S.S 2 student at F.G.G.C Shagamu. A friend of mine had just received her report card, saw that she was repeating the class, and decided she was going to kill herself by strangulation using a cutlass. While some of us were scared and were pleading with her to reconsider her decision, the majority of my classmates said to leave her alone to commit suicide if she wants to as they were pretty sure she wasn’t going to go through with it.

The second time suicide came under my radar, I was in S.S 2. We had just gotten a new principal, Mrs. M.B. Abolade, who told us that the names of the first and last three students in the mid-term and final exams would be called on the assembly ground. Two girls in my set had found out that their names were among the last three in their respective classes, and their names would be called out on the assembly ground hence, they decided to commit suicide to avoid the shame and stigma. The first girl drank bleach, while I can’t remember what the second girl drank, and they both ended up in the sickbay. The irony was that because there were a lot of names being called, and a lot of those names were mispronounced, we’d have missed the names of these girls. But as everyone had heard about the girls’ attempted suicide, we were listening for their names and heard their names clearly when they were called out. I’m happy to say that today, these 3 women are doing well in their careers and all have kids.