May Sickness

The other day I was late home from work for the third time this month.
It wasn’t due to overtime or anything like that. It was simply that the train had been delayed.
In a country where you can set you watch by the train’s arrivals and departures, it seemed strange that nobody was very surprised.
I later found out the reason - 五月病 (gogatsubyo - May Sickness).
You see, in Japan, everything starts in April - the new school year, the financial year, company promotions and transfers, moving to a new house. So as the pressures of daily life increase at this time, so do the number of people who feel they can’t cope.
In most cases, gogatsubyo manifests itself as mild depression or a lack of motivation or energy for the month of May (much like our post-holiday-season blues). But for some people, it all becomes too much and they take their own lives.
You’ve guessed it. My train was late three times this month because three times a different person had jumped from the platform to commit suicide.
The most recent jumper was here in Zama, so it felt all the more real and troubling. Usually my reaction is pretty selfish. I think, ‘Why did they have to jump and make everybody late? Why didn’t they just go off into the mountains or something?’ But this time, being so close to home, it made me think a bit more about the whole topic.
It led me, too, to talk to my students about suicide, and our conversations ranged from the slightly irreverent to the downright chilling.
One student told me of a former co-worker. The co-worker had a lot of stress related to his job, and took to carrying a noose in his briefcase everyday. The fact that he felt he could take his life at any time allowed him to deal with the pressures his work put him under. When the troubles eased off, he felt comfortable enough to come to his office noose-free.
This story seems to have a kind of twisted logic to it, much like with people who purposely cut themselves. The noose acted like a kind of stress release or a symbol that he had some control in a world where he felt powerless.
Still and all, I worry that his situation masked a deeper problem not related to work stress.
The noose was one thing, but he also showed my student a ‘Guide to Suicide’ he had been able to buy - not over the internet, as I expected, but at a real bookstore.
The ‘Guide’ showed all the many ways to take your own life, even going so far as to recommend the best train lines to jump at. You see, as if the victim’s families didn’t have enough to be dealing with, they have to pay the train company huge compensation for the loss of business the suicide caused. Not all companies charge the same rate, however. The line on which I live is one of the cheapest, hence the three tragedies so far this month.
I just feel that anyone who goes out and buys a book like this has more serious problems than meet the eye. According to my student, the co-worker seems ok and in good spirits now, but I worry for him and his loved ones.
I realise this has all gotten terribly heavy, so let’s lighten the mood.
Another student cracked me up with a funny little anecdote.
In Japan, people usually take their shoes off before they commit suicide. I never really figured out the reason (this was not one of my high level classes), but it seemed to have something to do with signifying you’re ready to die.
When you go to some amazing cliffs or deep gorges here in Japan, you will sometimes come across a lonely pair of shoes and realise something terrible has occurred.
The thing is, you often come across the same lonely pairs of shoes in the car parks of large supermarkets and department stores here in the city.
You might be thinking that, overwhelmed by the 24/7 Japanese shopping culture, people just suddenly lose the will to live. And you might be right! I’ve felt that way myself at times.
But the more rational explanation is that some people just love their cars a little too much. They don’t want to spoil their beautiful shiny pedals or plush interiors. So they take off their shoes before getting in, and drive off, leaving behind an unintentional air of doom and gloom in the equivalent of the local Tesco. A little fitting, don’t you think?