Don't kill yourself

Choose coffee.

A fund manager in Sydney killed himself last week. A father in his forties. I first saw it mentioned by another fund manager on LinkedIn. Jewish guy, apparently. Leaves behind a wife and young kids.

A mate and I were talking about it. My mate’s had mental health issues in the family, including one suicide. Something he is keenly attuned to, something he watches closely and manages in himself.

There was a particular texture to our conversation, one that I have surprisingly often with other men around my age (I’m not 40 yet, but getting there). I’ll try and convey some of that here.

I have no idea about the circumstances of this particular fund manager, and so none of what I write may apply to him. I’m just sharing some of the thoughts his untimely death provoked.

This period of our lives is tough. Young dads. We face family pressures. We have dependents. They depend on us. Financially, emotionally. We want to be good dads. We want to be good husbands. We are in the throes of our careers. We want to win. If you’re ever going to win bigly, now’s the time. The weight’s coming on a bit easier, tougher to work off. Back pain. You’re not the young man you once were.

Life’s become defined by compromise. When I first had a kid the way I thought about it was: you are measured out of 10 as a father, a husband, a friend, health, and work. If you’re a 10/10 in all, you have 50 points. But you only get 25 points to allocate each day. Your friends and health might drop to 0 as you scramble in other areas. Some days you’re a sucky dad or husband. Compromise. (Son didn’t even make the list. Sorry mum.)

And that’s if things are going well. Let’s not even get started on divorce, addiction, illness, a death in the family. A disabled child. Singular or lifelong cataclysmic events that tend to lie beneath the surface, behind the external facing self.

The boundless potential and freedom of youth has careened into the gritty, textured, responsibility-laden reality of manhood.

But here’s the thing. Whining is for losers. No one cares. Your friends care but they have their own problems. Whining is bad for your soul. Just get on with it. You know this already. Oh, no one told you it would be like this? You want to live a life they told you about? Go live in a fairytale.

It’s hard, and sure there’s no hierarchy to suffering, but it’s not the Eastern Front. We live in opulence. Figure it out.

Here are some reasons you should not kill yourself:

• You can always kill yourself tomorrow. Why kill yourself now, when you can just wait and see. It’s a one way door. Funky stuff can happen in your head, circumstances can change. The world is big and weird. You always have the option, why would you give that up? Don’t ever kill yourself today — you can always kill yourself tomorrow.

• It’s not fair on your kids. You know that already.

• You don’t win any brownie points. It’s not a solve. Your friends will be sad and your enemies will laugh at you. You probably don’t even have any enemies. You’re not an archnemesis guy. Most people won’t think about it much at all. Except the people who love you.

• Choose coffee. A fake-internet meme is Albert Camus asking himself “coffee or suicide?” Blokes I know ask themselves this every morning. Have a cuppa. Lift weights. Read a book. Swim. Walk the dog. Eat cake. The miracle of creation is all around you.

• Sleep. Sun. Food.

• Do you really want to top yourself over a work thing? Ok so you underperformed or markets suck. Your grandparents fled Cossacks. Get a grip.

• There are better ways to go. Tackling a terrorist. Seppuku. That time in 1865 when former governor of New Zealand Robert FitzRoy killed himself because the method of weather forecasting he invented didn’t work. The bar is high.

• Plenty of great men fumbled bad. John Maynard Keynes got wiped out by margin calls — twice. Isaac Newton invented calculus then got obliterated in the South Sea Bubble of 1720. Mark Twain sank his fortune and a chunk of his wife’s into a typesetting machine that almost worked, bankrupt at 59. Winston Churchill got wiped out in the 1929 crash. You’ll be fine.

• Lesser men than you punch through every day. Obviously, you can do this. Every man in your line made it work. The world is filled with men who make it work.

You’re a dad and a man and it’s life. Go out and win.

May his memory be a blessing.