To Be, Or Not To Be:For the Passively Suicidal, That Actually Is the Question

In college, I was asked to memorize and perform William Shakespeare’s famous soliloquy from Hamlet: “To Be or Not To Be.”

To be, or not to be, that is the question:

Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing, end them.

At the time, it felt like just another overused, overshared piece of Shakespeare’s work.

And as a full-blown theatre snob, it was not a deep enough cut to impress me.

But that was before I really dissected it.

Before I let it enter my bones.

Before I let it sink into my soul.

And that is when I realized something.

Oh shit.

I have been asking myself this question my whole life.

When Shakespeare’s Words Mirror Your Own Mind

I became so enamored with the text that I tore up a bedsheet and wrote the entire soliloquy on it with a thick black Sharpie.

I hung it on my wall.

At the bottom, almost like a signature, I drew three birds flying into the distance.

(Those three birds ended up becoming my first tattoo, about five years later in New York with my three best friends.)

And when my future husband saw it on one of our early dates, he said the design looked just like the cover art of his newest album.

Kismet.

Faith.

Great minds thinking alike.

All I know is that it felt meaningful.

Like something had aligned.

Like maybe there really is someone, or something, calling the shots.

And it wanted us to get married and have babies.

But I digress.

Shakespeare and Passive Suicidal Thoughts

Fifteen years later, “To Be or Not To Be” came barreling back into my life when I watched the breathtaking film Hamnet, which explores the grief surrounding the death of Shakespeare’s young son.

Once again, the words landed straight in my chest.

To die – to sleep,

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to.

As someone who lived for years with passive suicidal thoughts, I felt seen by this text in a way I had never experienced before.

Hamlet isn’t being dramatic.

He isn’t being poetic.

He is thinking through suicide.

Turning it over in his mind.

Wondering what it would mean.

And reading it felt like someone had cracked open my skull and copied down the contents.

Every thought.

Every feeling.

It was all there.

Like a mirror being held up.

Like not being alone.

Like maybe I wasn’t crazy after all.

The Pause That Keeps Us Here

‘Tis a consummation devoutly to be wish’d.

To die, to sleep

To sleep, perchance to dream, aye, there’s the rub.

For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come

when we have shuffled off this mortal coil

must give us pause.

Yes.

It must.

And gratefully,

I too have paused every time.

The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune

Now, at 43 years old, a line speaks to me that never did before.

“The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.”

Weapons hurled at us on the battlefield of life.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

Outrageously.

Who is this warrior?

Who sends these weapons relentlessly?

Shakespeare might call it fate.

Fate.

Gladiator.

Mercenary.

Fate, is it you with the archer’s bow?

If so, dear fate, please lay your weapons down.

What will it take?

I surrender.

Please show us mercy.

Please grant us peace.

Because if I must continue to live on

And truly, I must

I’m not sure how many more blows I can take.

My body feels worn down.

My soul struggles to stay lit.

My heart wants to close.

I want to hide.

To sleep.

Wanting the Pain to Stop

And by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to.

I never wanted to die.

I wanted the suffering to stop.

I wanted the heartache to end.

Like a wounded soldier praying for relief.

Like someone with a terminal illness slowly crossing the threshold.

Please.

Just make it stop.

And who would judge that soldier?

That cancer patient?

Call them selfish?

Weak?

Attention-seeking?

And yet how quickly many people judge emotional pain.

Who are we to decide which suffering is harder to bear?

If You Are Still Here, You Are a Hero

If you have longed for death to ease your suffering

and you are still here

you are a hero.

Plain and simple.

Your perseverance is astronomical.

Your tenacity astonishing.

Your bravery undeniable.

Because who else could continue facing life’s slings and arrows again and again and again

and still refuse to die?

That sounds pretty heroic to me.

To soldier on.

To keep living.

To keep breathing.

Even when it hurts.

Look at you.

Really look.

What a fucking hero.

Grief Created “To Be or Not To Be”

Shakespeare was grieving when he wrote Hamlet.

His young son, Hamnet, had died.

And grief poured out of him.

Raw.

Unfiltered.

Onto the page.

And from the page

into an actor’s mouth

into the ears of the world.

And at the center of it all:

Grief.

Grief alchemised gave us “To Be or Not To Be.”

Art, Grief, and the Alchemy of Being Human

Art transforms pain.

Art holds suffering.

Art reminds us we are not alone.

Even in my darkest moments, when I believed no one could possibly understand what was happening inside me

artists were there.

William Shakespeare.

Kurt Cobain.

Robin Williams.

My brother, Matthew Perry.

Artists are alchemists.

They turn suffering into something we can hold.

Beauty in the sludge.

Light in the dark.

And companionship when we need it most.

They remind us who we are.

They remind us what it means to be human.

And sometimes, they remind us how to find our way home to ourselves.

Suicide and Mental Health Resources

If you or someone you love is struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, help is available.

You do not have to face it alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (U.S.)

Call or text: 988

Crisis Text Line

Text HOME or TALK to 741741

Please stay.