American celebrity chef, author, travel documentarian, and television personality, Anthony Bourdain, 62, joked about failing upward, about making every mistake imaginable yet still ending up with a dream job. He was paid to travel the world, talk about food, and share stories about people. So when the news broke in June 2018 that he had died by suicide, it came as a particular shock.

Similarly, fashion designer and businesswoman Kate Spade, 56, who also died by suicide in June 2018. Coming to India, Bhaiyyuji Maharaj, 50, a Madhya Pradesh-based spiritual guru who had mass following, including powerful followers from various political parties, committed suicide in the same month.

These three people inspired millions and seemingly “had it all.” From the outside looking in, it is difficult to understand how things got so bad for these celebrities when everything about their lives appeared so good.

Reflecting on the suicide of affluent and “have it all” personalities, journalist Aaron Sagers has some interesting confessions to make. Sagers have made a living as an entertainment journalist, pundit and television host. “I have been paid to travel the world and speak with fascinating people while trying all manner of food and having one adventure after another. And for an entire year, I wanted to die.”

He  was exceptionally proud to have built a career doing everything he wanted to do. “My job became talking about superheroes, science fiction, folklore and the paranormal. I shared the stage with heroes and filmed segments spelunking into ice caves, racing muscle cars, skulking around supposedly haunted buildings, and ladling seemingly ancient spirits direct from freshly tapped barrels.  Life was good,”  writes Sagers in HuffPost.

But in the relatively short span of time, his life changed drastically. He continued to be successful. This triggered a clinical depression. Every day he contemplated his own death.  “I was acutely aware that I did not want these feelings, but they were there anyhow.”  

He continued to be successful. “But the energy I brought to the stage or camera, to hype up crowds or do silly stunts with celebrities, was hollow. The ‘me’ that was the authentic, joyful person on the job became the mask. As I would continue to have adventures and enviable gigs, good-natured friends and supporters would post on social media, ‘Jealous,’ ‘You’re so lucky,’ ‘I hate you,’ and, ‘I want your life.’ In response, I would quietly think, ‘I hate me too,’ and ‘Please, take my life’.”

There were great days as well. Those days spent with loved ones, or feeling high from a job well done. Soon he would realise that “I” was the alter ego. The mask would come off, and the grotesque husk would emerge.

The pressure to deliver, to be the person others expect you to be, to live it up and love a life and job others would kill for just served to cement the mask in place. “I felt like I had to appear ‘together,’ and that being grateful for my success meant I wasn’t allowed to feel so broken. Sagers felt he couldn’t allow myself to admit to such pain and “weakness” publicly for risk of damaging his  “brand.” Sagers, fortunately, found an answer and lives on!

May be the masks that these personalities had to wear led to their untimely death. If these successful “had it all” personalities, could not take off their masks, how difficult it is for ordinary mortals? Why do we as a society make it impossible to live without masks?  The task of genuine spirituality is to get rid of our masks and recognise our vulnerable true selves. Can I be true to myself and to the Divine?

(The writer is professor of science and religion and author of Death: Live it!)