If you feel unsafe right now, please pause and reach out for immediate help. In India, call Tele MANAS on 14416 (or 1-800-891-4416) or AASRA on 022-27546669. In Mauritius, call Befrienders Mauritius on 5483 7233. If you are in immediate danger, call local emergency services or go to the nearest hospital.
Let us speak plainly. Not finding a reason to live is not a personality flaw or a lack of gratitude. It is often a nervous system in pain and a mind that has run out of bandwidth. Many people I coach are not really asking to die. They are asking for the suffering to stop. That distinction matters because pain can be treated, even when it feels permanent.
Name What Is Happening Without Turning It Into a Verdict
When the mind says, “There is no reason to live,” it often means, “I cannot imagine relief.” Depression shrinks time. Trauma narrows attention. Burnout steals colour from ordinary life.
So I start with a reframe that is both psychological and compassionate: you are having a thought, not receiving a prophecy. In a crisis, thoughts arrive with the confidence of facts. They are still thoughts.
If you can, try one sentence: “Something in me is overwhelmed.” Not “I am weak.” Not “I am ungrateful.” Just overwhelmed. Shame is petrol on despair. Naming the experience reduces shame, and that creates a little room to breathe.
Your Brain in Crisis Is Not a Reliable Narrator
Under chronic stress, the brain prioritises survival over meaning. The threat system scans for danger, the body floods with stress hormones, and the part of the brain that helps you plan, hope, and hold nuance goes quiet. In that state, hopelessness feels logical.
In India and Mauritius, culture adds extra weight. We are often taught to keep going, to not burden others, to “be strong”. So people hide pain until it becomes unbearable. Please hear this clearly: needing help is not drama. It is data. It means your system is overloaded.
Do Not Make Permanent Decisions With a Temporary Mind
There is a version of you that exists in late-night exhaustion. I call it the night brain. It argues like a clever lawyer, presenting only one side of the case.
If you are there, your job is not to solve your entire life. Your job is to get through the next 20 minutes safely.
I do simple nervous system first aid: I reduce access to harm. I move to a brighter room. I drink water. I put both feet on the floor and feel the contact points. I send one message to one person, even if it is just, “Can you stay with me for a bit?” These are not spiritual clichés. They are stabilisers.
In yoga, we speak of ahimsa, non-violence. In a crisis, ahimsa becomes practical: “I will not harm myself today, even if I cannot promise anything beyond today.”
Ask a Smaller Question: “What Is Unliveable Right Now?”
Meaning is a big word. Sometimes it is too big. When you cannot find a reason to live, ask a smaller question: what feels unlivable?
Is it constant criticism at home. Financial pressure. A relationship that has become a courtroom. Loneliness in a crowded city. The pressure to be the “strong one”. Grief you have not been allowed to mourn.
When we identify what is unliveable, we can shift from an existential verdict to a solvable problem. Not easy. Solvable.
I once worked with a high-performing leader who told me, “I have everything. I feel nothing.” The “no reason” was a blend of sleep deprivation, alcohol as anaesthetic, and a decade of unprocessed shame. We did not chase purpose first. We rebuilt basic stability, then honesty, then support. Meaning returned slowly, like a dawn, not like fireworks.
Borrow Reasons Until Yours Return
Sometimes you do not need a reason to live. You need a reason to not die today.
Borrow one. Borrow it from your future self who has not met you yet. Borrow it from someone you love, even if you feel disconnected right now. Borrow it from a promise you have not fulfilled, a curiosity you have not followed, a place you still want to see, the possibility that relief is real.
Borrowing is not a weakness. It is what we do when the inner bank account is overdrawn.
Rebuild Life From the Body Up
When people feel empty, they often want a grand answer. My answer is usually annoyingly basic, because biology is basic.
Eat something warm. Step outside for a few minutes of daylight. Move gently, even if it is a short walk or stretching near a window. Protect sleep like it is medicine. If alcohol or substances are part of the story, treat them with seriousness, because they can intensify depression and impulsivity.
Then add one micro-action that restores agency: one shower, one appointment, one honest paragraph in a notebook, one small task completed. Purpose is rarely found in one epiphany. It is built through small actions that prove to your brain, “I can still influence my life.”
As an aspiring yogi, I also return people to breath, not as a performance, but as a signal to the nervous system. Slow exhalations tell the body, “You are safe enough for now.” You do not need an hour-long meditation. Three minutes counts.
The Societal Question We Avoid
Sometimes the problem is not you. Sometimes the problem is the world you have been trying to survive in.
A culture that rewards overwork and calls it ambition. Families that treat emotions as inconvenience. Communities that stigmatise therapy. Systems that demand you perform strength while you are quietly breaking.
If life feels pointless, it may be because you have been living in survival mode for too long. Your pain might be asking a brave question: “What if the life I built is not the life my body can tolerate?”
When to Seek Help Urgently
If thoughts of ending your life are frequent, if you have a plan, if you feel you might act on it, or if you are using substances to cope and losing control, please treat this as urgent. Reach out to a helpline, a trusted person, a therapist, a psychiatrist, or a hospital. Depression, trauma, bipolar disorder, severe anxiety, and grief can distort perception, and they respond to evidence-based care. Medication is not a failure. Therapy is not indulgence. Support is not shame.
A Closing Note From Me to You
I will not insult you with forced optimism. I will offer a quieter truth: meaning is not always something you feel. Sometimes, meaning is something you practise.
Today, your practice can be simple: stay. Let tomorrow have a chance to speak.
If you are still here reading, part of you has already chosen life for a few more minutes. That part is not naive. It is courageous.
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