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There were anecdotal accounts and rumours aplenty as the financial crisis deepened last year, of individuals ruined by the crisis, taking their lives.  Some even going as far as saying the incident/s took place in high rise offices in the Central Business District.  In Singapore, imagine that.  Although, recent high profile incidents (God rest their souls) globally, might appear to give the rumour mill of urban myths, a believability quotient.

What drives a person to take his or her life?  I personally know of a few dear ones who have taken a similar route and believe me, there are many unanswered questions.

Was it desperation coupled with depression?  Perhaps, the inability to make sense of a system that used to make sense?  The problems were overwhelming and the pit, already deep, continues to spiral downwards?  The ignominy and hopelessness of the circumstance surrounding them?  Coming up against wall after insurmountable wall of deadends with nothing to look forward to?  There was nothing to live for?  There was noone to live for?  There was noone to help?  There was noone willing to help?  Or there was no help big enough on the way?  Did they ask for help?  Could they accept help?

Yet another question.  What makes a divorced, young mother of four school-going children, with bleak employment prospects and only ten cents in her purse, keep going?

Anxiety.  Fear.  Paranoia. 

The external tell tale signs of anxiety being played out, are copious.  Sweat, (I’ve been told only animals sweat.  Humans perspire.  It’s all terminology.  It all has to do with excretion of water from the system), in many forms.

Beads of sweat on the forehead betray nervousness stemming from anxiety.  Sweaty palms and feet are the worst going to and from an interview or important meetings.  Worse if coupled with sweat-stained shirts under the arm.  Or just uncontrollable water droplets streaming from one or all of the above glandular outlets.

Those can be dealt with, apparently.  Even stars (not fledglings mind you) but big names, need to cope with the same “open pore bucket” syndrome.   For such, there is hope.  Botox.  Apparently, these days you can botox all your cares away, including stopping them sweat glands from producing wet palms, sweaty feet and underarm “liquidity”.  Nothing you can cash out but definitely something you can cash in to.

Anxiety stemming from whatever reasons that is not stamped out, builds into uncontrollable fear leading to paranoia.  Most people assume this leads finally to a convalescent home, to put it delicately.  But don’t think this “people-out-to-get-me” syndrome is only the domain of schizophrenics who hear voices. 

This ”malaise” is very much alive:

• in those who think they have a lot to lose
• in those who really have a lot to lose

be it in fame, power or wealth or all of the above.

Those who have clawed their way, I mean worked their way up so high that the only way is down, in any office, reach the same pinnacle of paranoia and project their perceptions on others.  To bastardise a certain mantra, “they will do it to others so they assume others will do it to them”. 

What do they do?  They DO not trust.  They ringfence themselves.  They have the inner circle, who they still do not quite trust.  So they create the “innest” circle to keep an eye on the inner circle who keep an eye on the not so inner circle who stare at the outer circle.  

Hearing things?  External whisperings or internal voices?  Perhaps, they are just two sides of the same coin.