Category Archives: Suicide

Why I Talk About Suicide

Posted on by
11

In the last few months, one of the things I have become passionate about is suicide prevention.  As a result, I have become more vocal about my own suicide attempts and what brought me to the point where I felt that suicide was my only option.  I have come to believe that the more light that is shed on this difficult to discuss subject, the more aware people will be about the growing epidemic of suicide.

I remember how much pain I was in before I tried to take my own life.  It was a physical and mental pain that was more than I could bear.  The thought of how many people are out there who are in that kind of pain hurts my heart.  I want to let them know that they can move past that pain, and make it to a place where they are happier and healthier.  I want them to know that having hope is possible.

Silence keeps the subject of suicide clouded in mystery.  However, many suicide attempt survivors find it difficult to impossible to talk about it.  There is a great deal of shame associated with having attempted to take your own life.  People make judgments about the type of person your are.  There is an awful lot of pressure to ” perform better” in the future. Not everyone who has survived a suicide attempt is emotionally strong enough to break their silence.  They may never be strong enough. However, since I am strong enough, I feel it is my duty and privilege to attempt to educate people about suicide, and suicide prevention.

Each year the amount of people who die by suicide goes up.  My hope is that if enough people take on the challenge of educating others about suicide and suicide prevention we will one day see the suicide rate go down.  It may be an unrealistic hope, but unrealistic does not mean impossible.

If you are interested in joining an online community for people who have survived their suicide attempt, please take some time to look at Suicide Attempt Survivors

Suicide In My Face

Posted on by
13

On Sunday morning my mother called me.  She wanted to tell me about a relative of ours who had died by suicide on Friday.  She asked me if I would go to the viewing with her later on in the day.  She thought it would be beneficial for me to go and speak to the family, if the time and situation was right, and assure them that there was nothing they could have done to stop their son from taking his own life.  As she and I both said on the phone, it is one thing to be a mental health activist sitting behind a computer, where I can stay some what disengaged.  It is something completely different to do that work in person.

Even though this person was a relative of mine, I really did not know him.  My extended family is rather large and most of the time we only see each other once a year at the family reunions.  Because of that, not many of my extended family know about my suicide attempt. The opportunity has not presented itself to share something like that.  Which meant telling anyone at the funeral home about my suicide attempt was completely new territory for me.  It made me a little anxious.

As we entered the funeral home, I was introduced to one of my mother’s cousins, who also was the aunt of the person who died.  She was holding it together pretty good under the circumstances.  The mother was not.  She was crying uncontrollably for most of the time that we were there.  The wife was sitting in a chair beside the coffin, and there were pictures of the deceased’s children all over the room.  It was difficult for me to be there.  Seeing how devastated everyone was made me think about my own attempt and how close I had been to causing this much pain to my own family.

After we had said hello to a few people, I went and sat next to one of my mother’s aunts.  She really is a nice person, she has always treated me well, however, she is also like most people, uneducated about how mental health issues can affect people.  She sat there giving me the gossip about the whole situation, part of it involved the marital problems between the deceased and his wife.  Basically, the long and short of it is that the wife is being held responsible for her husband’s death by suicide by some of the members of the family.

That made me angry.  It made me angry because it was NO ONE’S FAULT! Not even the young man who took his own life was at fault.  He was sick.  If his head was full of similar thoughts to my own when I attempted suicide, then he was very sick.  For the first time since my diagnosis, the misunderstanding that people have about mental illness was right in my face, and I did not like it.

My mother and I did have an opportunity to speak to both to both parents.  The father seems to be doing really well under the circumstances.  He really loves God and has placed himself and the situation into the Lord’s hands.  He is not angry, and is not blaming anyone.  When we spoke to him he held my hand and had his other hand on his back the whole time.  It was as if he was giving me comfort in his own time of grief.

The mother was not doing as well.  I shared with her that some parts of my story, tried to help her understand  that her son had been sick, and that there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent what had happened. I think she was too immersed in her grief to really understand what I was trying to say.  The few things she did say, indicated that she was also very angry and blaming the wife.  I wish what I had said could have made more of an impact with her than it did.

As difficult as it was for me to be there,  I think it was good that I went.  It was my first real life exposure to suicide, outside of my attempt, and it gave me an idea of the types of judgments that people form about someone who has taken their own life. I also learned that being an activist in the “real world” is something I can do, I just need some more practice at it.

My Daughter Speaks Out…

Posted on by
16

I love my daughter.  She is funny, intelligent, warm and caring.  She sparkles when she smiles.  Every morning when she wakes up, she kisses me.  My daughter impresses me with her strength and self confidence. She is a blessing to me.

I have not always been the mother she has needed and wanted.  She had to spend a great deal of time raising herself and worrying about me during the time that my depression was so bad.  She deserved better than what I gave her. I have been more afraid of what she thought about me and that time in our lives than any other person in my family.

When I brought up the idea of her answering some questions for my blog, I figured she would be resistant.  To my surprise, she not only agreed to answer my questions, she really seemed to want to.  Her answers were honest, forthright, and for me, brutal.

What did you think when you found out that I had tried to commit suicide?

I was scared. I honestly didn’t know what to think. Anger went through me when I found out you were in the hospital again! Then when dad and I showed up at the hospital I got really sad, ’cause I didn’t know what was going to happen. You kept getting worse and a nurse said “Why dont you take your kid somewhere else? She doesn’t need to see her mother like this.”  Right then and there I knew everything wouldnt be fine. I knew something awful was going to happen. I was sad and mad

What was it like to be around me before I started getting help for my depression?

It was awful. I didn’t know when you would have a good day. The littlest things would set you off and you would yell. or you would just stay in bed all day under the covers and not come out. The rare times you would come out would be to get something to eat or drink, other than that I hardly saw you.. or you would be angry.

Are you ever embarrassed to have a mom who has a mental illness?

I’m not embarrassed to have a mother with a metal illness. I’m glad you are still here. I could have it really bad, and not have you here today.  Soo I’m thankful I have a mother, even if you have a mental illness. We all have our problems, and we just have to learn to move on and live with them…

Knowing that mental health issues are in our family, what are you going to do to keep your mind healthy as you grow up and when you are an adult?

I know there is a very high chance of me getting everything you have right now. However, considering I have seen it first hand with you, I will have a good idea on how to catch it and make sure it doesn’t get as far as yours did.

How will I keep my mind healthy? I will think right and do the right things. I will see a person who knows if I could get it every so often just to make sure I won’t get mental health issues or if needed, to catch it in time before its get to the really bad stage…

website-hit-counters.com
Provided by website-hit-counters.com site.

My Mother's Point Of View…

Posted on by
4

Last week, I asked my mother some questions that had to do with my suicide attempt and depression. Despite any pain answering these questions might have caused her, she took the time to answer them.  Two things jumped out to me when I read what she wrote, 1. my mother has a deep love for God (something I admire) and 2. my mother loves me bunches.

What were your initial thoughts and feelings when you learned that I had attempted suicide?

Sadness.  Confusion.  Knew you were not happy but had no idea the depression was so deep.  Sorrow that you felt so unworthy and unloved.  It grieves me that any human being would feel so alone.

It bothered me that you would be in such a fog that it wouldn’t register that the God who created you, who knows the number of hairs on your head, who has your name written on the palms of his hand, who knit you together in your mother’s womb would NEVER leave you nor forsake you.  He said so.

Did you have any idea that I was depressed before the suicide attempt?

No.  Our past history had left a a wide chasm between us and I really wasn’t close enough to you to know about your state of mind.  I did believe that you were a very unhappy person.

What did you think about my Psychiatric Hospitalization?

Hopeful that you were in a place where you could get some real help and not harm yourself.

Do you believe that you have ever had any depressive episodes?

Definitely.  As a young wife away from family and friends, and pregnancy made it worse.

What changes have you noticed in me since I began therapy and my mental health medication?

You seem happy and interested in other people.  You seem to be enjoying life and handling all the ups and downs it throws at you.  You seem confident and you are fun to be around.  You have a lot interesting things to say and yet you are a good listener.  It’s clear that family is important to you and you treat us with respect and honor and love.

In the last few years I have noticed many positive changes in you.  What propelled you to make those changes in yourself?

A firm belief in Jesus Christ as my Lord and Master, and my desire to please and emulate Him in spite of the fact that we are born into this world as wicked sinners.  He is my guidepost, my standard.  Although, I disappoint Him in many ways, I try to remember to honor and glorify Him in all I do and say…..To have someone recognize that there is a difference in my life makes me feel really good but best of all it is a testimony to the goodness of our God.

What do you think is my best quality?

I thought long and hard about this one – perseverance – some might call it stubbornness – something the women in our family have a full helping of – it does serve to help us overcome a great many difficulties.  I think you have “harnessed” that stubborn spirit in a positive manner and use it to your advantage.

Any thoughts you want to share that were not covered by my questions?

I have wanted to see you happy and enjoying life for a long time.  It makes me happy beyond words to see you participating in life and sharing with us the wonderful person that God made you to be.

I never want you to be afraid that we would not love you nor forgive you or that you ever have to go through a trial alone.

The Tears Woudn't Stop – Suicide

Posted on by
12

At the end of They Threatened To Arrest Me I was in an ICU room, hooked up to an IV, with my guard in a chair by the door..  By this point, I had been threatened with arrest, stripped searched, and made to feel as if I was a criminal.  I know I was suicidal, however, I really felt that the way I was being treated was not helping my suicidal thoughts, instead it was making them worse.

As I suspected, I had a very sleepless night in ICU.  I spent most of the night crying. There was a guard in my room all night, who  I attempted to ignore.  I was still very angry at how things turned out.  I wanted to go home, and I was miserable.  I also still had that terrified feeling about what was going to happen to me next.

When the doctor came to examine me in the morning, he was oddly silent.  Except for letting me know that I had to stay hooked up to the heart monitors to satisfy the psychiatric hospital (which I would be going to the next day), and  that I would be moving to a regular room, he said nothing to me.  Not even to answer my questions.  What I did not know at the time, is that none of the doctors or nurses would give any information to my husband either.  They did not feel compelled to,  since I had been involuntarily committed.  The hospital was considered my guardian at that point, and I was considered incapable of making my own medical decisions.  Because of this, my husband also had no right to know what was going on with me.

Shortly after the doctor examined me, I was transferred over to the regular floor, my guard following me over.  I still was not eating, for fear of a bowel movement, since all my bathroom activity had to be monitored.  The nurse I had at the time, started giving me funny looks when I kept turning down my insulin shots.  I am sure they were thinking I was trying to harm myself in another way.

That afternoon I got a new guard, who I think was trying to do his best to make me feel more at ease.  It sort of backfired.  He tried to prepare me for the transfer to the psychiatric hospital.  He let me know that I would be going in a sheriff’s deputy car, riding in the back.  In my mind I was thinking “Yet another thing to make me feel like a criminal.” Contrary to what the nurse in the emergency room said, there was a chance I could wear my own clothes to the psychiatric hospital, it depended on what the deputy who was in charge of transferring me decided.  Finally, he told me that because of sheriff department policy, I would have to be handcuffed during the transfer.  My terror became stronger.  I kept thinking about how this would not have happened if I had not called for help, and how could they keep treating me like a criminal when I voluntarily came to this hospital.  I burst into a fresh round of tears and quit talking.

That evening, when it came time for me to take my medication for my restless leg syndrome (RLS), I was  given a dose that was less than half of what I am supposed to take.  I asked the nurse who brought it where the rest of it was.  Her response was to roll her eyes and to let me know that either I took what she brought and quit complaining, or she would not give me anything for my RLS.

I got on my cell phone and called my husband and told him what was going on. The nurse left my room, taking the smaller dose of my medication with her.  I was so very angry.  She came back in and told me that the doctor’s orders were for that smaller amount and there was nothing I could do about it.  I believe it was about this time when I said very loudly “that just because I was involuntarily committed, did not mean that the doctor or anyone could make medical decisions regarding me without telling me what was going on“.  My husband was still on the phone and he told me he was going to come back to the hospital, in order to see what he could do to help me.  I over-heard the  guard tell the nurse that if this was going to be how I was going to behave, then he was going to take my cell phone away and not let me have visitors.  I guess he had forgotten all the hours that I had done nothing but cry and because I got angry about the medication situation I was now going to be considered a troublesome patient.

When my husband was just about to my room, the guard left my room to speak to him.  Apparently, the guard told my husband to calm me down so that I could still have visitors and to make their job easier.  I guess I was not supposed to be upset about anything that was going on.   Before my husband came into my room, he went to the nurses station to have my nurse get my medication bag and verify the dosage amounts. That is when he discovered that between ICU and the regular floor (which, by the way, are technically on the same floor), my medication bag was lost.  After an hour of searching, my nurse found it.

She verified that I was correct about my RLS medication dosage, and then called the doctor.  My husband spoke with the doctor, and let him know that just because I was involuntarily committed did not give anyone the right to change my medication dosage, especially without consulting me or him.  He also asked the doctor why my other medications had not been administered.  The doctor told my husband that as a general rule in that hospital, if you are admitted because you are suicidal they take away all of your medications, and only let you have them back gradually.  After much discussion, my husband was able to convince the doctor that it would be a good idea to let me have all my medications, in the dosages I was supposed to.

I still cannot comprehend the hospital’s reasoning for treating me the way they did.  Nothing was done to eliminate my terror, instead everything they did do only increased it. Nor do I understand their reasoning for not letting my  husband know what was going on with me.  Even if they thought I was not capable of making my own medical decisions, he had a right to know what was going on with his wife.  I am thankful they did finally listen to my husband when it came to my medications.

Bumps In The Recovery Road – Mental Health Awareness

Posted on by
4


I am sure that I am not alone when I say that my depression recovery has experienced a few bumps in the road. In fact, I hit a rather large bump last September, which ended in a brief hospital stay. Unfortunately, because I did not have any medical insurance, the hospital that was chosen for me was a State Run Psychiatric Hospital.

Finding the right depression medication for me proved to be something of a challenge. Since I am a diabetic, I could not take many of the depression medications because they can raise a person’s blood sugar. Then a whole bunch of other medications were put on the black list, because of my restless leg syndrome (RLS). It seems they affect dopamine in much the same way that RLS does so they can make it worse. After several months, we found a combination of medication that seemed to work and did not cause the usual problems.

I was feeling better, I had a better outlook on life and I had a small measure of hope. So when the bump in the road happened, I was taken by surprise. Looking back I can clearly identify certain things about my behavior that should have been signals to me that that I was not doing well.

I had become overly emotional with my anger and sadness. I picked fights with everyone I could, and I was back to crying all the time. The way I was feeling had been my “normal” for several years,so it did not dawn on me that I was in serious trouble. After feeling like this for several days, things sort of tilted to the very bad. I was taking my usual everyday handful of medicine, when I decided that I was going to add about ten extra beta blockers to my usual dose.

What I looked like during this "bump in the road"

What I looked like during this "bump in the road"

Once I fully realized what I did, I called my counselor.  She was not in.  The receptionist decided that she thought I needed to talk to someone on the Crisis Line, and immediately transferred my phone call.  I went through the whole scenario with a lady who answered the Crisis Line phone, up to the point where I took the extra medication.  After the lady on the Crisis Line heard that, she suggested that a Crisis Team come to my house and evaluate me.  Knowing that her suggestion was really more like she was telling me what was going to happen, I agreed.

The Crisis Team that showed up to my house, consisted of two men.  One was a psychiatrist and one was a Sheriff’s Deputy in plain clothes.  After asking me several questions, the psychiatrist suggested that I go to the local hospital and be checked out to make sure that the extra beta blockers I took were not going to cause me any problems.  He went on to suggest that it might be in my best interest if I went to a mental health facility for a few days, until I got through this crisis (bump in the road).

I did not want to go to either places. I knew I would end up in a state run psychiatric hospital, and I was terrified of going there. However, I also knew that if I told them no, the deputy would call for back up and I would still end up going, except I would be in handcuffs. I could not let that happen in front of my daughter.

When we got to the local hospital, the psychiatrist had me sit with the front desk lady and he went back to talk to an emergency room doctor. This is about the time that I got really angry and realized what the psychiatrist was doing. He was working with the emergency room doctor and they were going to have me 10-13nd. Where I live, that is the code for having someone involuntarily committed to a psychiatric hospital. I felt like all my rights were gone, and in essence they were.

I realize now that the crisis team probably saved my life. Since my counselor was not in her office, I probably would have taken more pills and would have tried to commit suicide again. At the time though, I was pissed. I felt as if I had been tricked into going to the local hospital, and that if I had not tried to call for help, I would not be in this mess.

I was totally refusing to see that what the psychiatrist had done was get me to the place I needed to be, with as little drama and trauma as possible. I was too busy being pissed off to admit that even if I only took ten extra beta blockers, it was still ten too many and was a strong indicator that I was heading down the path to a suicide attempt.

I have to say, I think that it is very good that the county I live in has crisis teams that will go to someone’s house to evaluate their mental state. If I ever got into serious trouble with my depression again, and I could not get a hold of my counselor or my other “safe” people, I would call the Crisis Line and get help that way.

More of my hospitalization experience in another post

Are you in crisis? Please call 1-800-273-TALK
Are you feeling desperate, alone or hopeless? Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255), a free, 24-hour hotline available to anyone in suicidal crisis or emotional distress. Your call will be routed to the nearest crisis center to you.

* Call for yourself or someone you care about
* Free and confidential
* A network of more than 140 crisis centers nationwide
* Available 24/7

Why I Tried Suicide – Mental Health Awareness

Posted on by
10

This time last year, the one thing I wanted more than anything else was to die. Each day I was alive was pure torture, and I wanted it to end. The only way I could see it ending was to take my own life.

I did not get to such a low point over night.  It took years of untreated depression for me to feel so bad all the time.  In fact, I probably had been dealing with depression on and off since I was a teenager.  Each depressive episode I had was worse than the one that had preceded it.  Until finally the depression became debilitating.

Starting in the Fall of 2007, several upsetting events  happened that I think pushed this current round of depression to an extreme that I had never experienced before.  At first, I did not recognize what was happening because a couple of physical illnesses I had been diagnosed with had symptoms that masked the depression.  By the time I figured out what was really going on, I found it impossible to ask for help.

In my mind, the event that seems to have started my descent towards severe depression, was when I was diagnosed with Adult Onset Asthma.  The diagnosis came after a brief hospital stay, due to breathing problems.  Up until that point, I had been a fairly healthy person and I did not know how to cope with a chronic illness.

For some reason, it was a struggle to get my asthma under control.  As a result, I spent almost a solid year on steroids. At that time,  I knew that steroids really messed with a person’s blood sugar, what I did not know is that steroids can also mess with your brain.  Steroids have been linked to depression, hostility, rages, and anxiety.

After my asthma diagnosis, I never seemed to get back to feeling how I used to. I was always tired, and needed to nap frequently. I became extremely worried that I would have an asthma attack away from home and not be able to get it under control or to a hospital in time.  This worry fed an Anxiety Disorder that I had,  encouraging it to become increasingly worse. My husband and I figured that I was so tired all the time from the asthma, and I did not tell him about the problems I was having with anxiety.

In the Spring of 2008, my son and I had a falling out and he moved out of the house under very difficult circumstances for both of us. Having my son so angry with me and leaving the way he did devastated me. It felt as if my child had died. Looking back, I can see that was an extreme emotional response to the situation. However, at the time that reaction seemed appropriate.

After my son left home, I was diagnosed with Type II Diabetes.  My blood sugar was almost five hundred at the time I was diagnosed, and the doctor said that is what had been causing my frequent need to nap and why I felt like I had not bounced back from the asthma.  I had a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that I now had two chronic illnesses.

My anxiety became worse after I learned about my diabetes.  Not only did I now have to carry emergency supplies for an asthma attack, I had to start carrying insulin, syringes and diabetic emergency supplies. The thought of having to give myself shots in public or at other people’s houses freaked me out.  I began staying at home more and more, until the only time I left it was when I absolutely had no other choice.

As I isolated myself more and more, my depression and anxiety grew stronger and stronger.  My internal dialogue became nothing more than a recounting of everything that I had ever done wrong and should feel guilty about, what a horrible person I was, how I did not deserve love from anyone, and what a burden I had become to my family.  The emotional pain that I was experiencing, began to feel like a constant physical ache.

The ache became more painful, and I began to entertain thoughts of suicide.  I was not totally committed to going through with it, but the suicidal thoughts were in my brain, acting as a constant reminder to me of how I could get rid of my pain.  I began to research the best ways to kill myself.  My thinking was, if I ever decided to act on my suicidal thoughts then I would have a plan that I knew would work.  I was very thorough in my research and before long, I had what I thought was a rock solid suicide plan.  All I had to do was wait until I got to a point where I felt like I needed to implement it and for the right time.

One of the things I believed I had to do before I could act on my suicide plan, was to get my daughter and husband to a point where they could rely on themselves and each other.  Until the depression got so bad that I could barely function, I had been the person who cooked the meals, cleaned the clothes, ran the kids places, and did errands for my husband.  Because my anxiety was making it impossible for me to leave the house, my husband was having to do more and more of these things.  That was perfectly fine with me, because it meant he was going to have to learn what  I needed him to learn before I ended my life.

The next thing I had to do before I committed suicide was to push my family away.  My thinking was if I could distance myself from them, then it would not cause them as much pain when I died.  I treated them badly.  I raged, I yelled, I became a very nasty person to be around.  I made their lives miserable in an effort to make them not want to be around me.  It worked.

A few weeks before I decided the time was right to die, I became obsessed with my thoughts of suicide.  Day and night, that is all I could think about.  Those thoughts seemed to be alive, and they kept morphing into stronger more persuasive entities.  My feeling of hopelessness became so strong, that it felt like that was the only emotion I felt.   I cried almost non-stop because the constant ache I felt had moved into my soul, and had taken over my whole being.

Finally, the day came when my suicidal thoughts became so strong that I had no other choice but to act on them. I could no longer bear the searing emotional and physical pain that consumed my body and brain.   My soul was weary from my constant feeling of hopelessness, and I no longer feared what would happen to me after I died.  The only thing I was waiting for was the right time.

On Sunday, May 17th, 2009 everything lined up the way I needed it to.  My husband and daughter were gone for the day, they had learned how to take care of themselves, and they rarely wanted to be around me. I had already come to terms with my death.  There was nothing in my way, and I no longer had the strength or urge to fight my suicidal thoughts.  I implemented my suicide plan.

At first glance this story may seem very sad and depressing, however, I do not view it that way.  From these series of events I learned gratitude.  I am grateful that my fool proof suicide plan did not go the way I thought it would.  Out of my hopelessness, I learned to be hopeful. I have hope for my life now that I never had before.  My inability to ask for help taught me that asking for help is  a good thing.  After I tried to end my own life and entered into therapy, I asked for help.  The help I received came in various forms, including medication and treatment for my depression.  Now I know, things never have to get to that low of a point again.

My desire is that my story touches someone.  Either a person who is feeling the way I did in the months and weeks before my suicide attempt, or a family member of someone who might be exhibiting similar signs and behaviors that I described in my story.  The message I hope they take away from my story is that people do not have to feel that way.  There are very effective treatments and medications that can prevent someone from ending their own life or trying to end their own life.

No, this is not a sad or depressing story.  It is a story of hope and healing.

If you or a loved one is in imminent danger of committing suicide call 911 immediately.

National Suicide Hotlines, USA

Unites States of America

1-800-SUICIDE–1-800-784-2433 1-800-273-TALK–1-800-273-8255

1-800-799-4TTY–1-800-799-4889 (Deaf Hotline)

Why Suicide? – Mental Health Awareness

Posted on by
Reply

A person who has never had suicidal thoughts, or tendencies has a hard time understanding why someone would want to commit suicide. It is difficult for them to imagine how someone could believe that death is a solution for anything. However, for the suicidal person, death is seen as the ultimate solution.  

Suicide is not a pointless or random act.  To the person committing suicide, it makes perfect sense, and is something they have given a lot of thought to.  It is a solution to an otherwise unsolvable problem.  That problem usually is unrelenting psychological pain.

Generally, when a person reaches the decision to end their own life, they are so full of pain that they want it all to just end.  Their consciousness is full of a never ending stream of distressing thoughts and feelings, with which they are preoccupied.   This stream can contain messages of self-loathing, that they are a burden to their families, guilt, a pervasive sense of hopelessness and other very negative thoughts and emotions.

Because of their skewed thinking, the suicidal person believes the messages that are flooding into their head.  If they could turn them off on their own, they would.  However, they are not able to make use of problem solving strategies, so their internal dialogue continues to be full of negative messages.  This leaves the suicidal person with no way to alleviate their extreme pain.

The only option they see to end their pain is to take their own life.  All their thoughts began to revolve around this idea.  They begin to formulate their suicide plan.  Deciding how they are going to end their life, figuring out when they are going to do it, and where it is going to take place.  It is extreme thinking, with an all or nothing mentality.

A suicidal person cannot think beyond the fact that suicide will provide them an escape from intolerable circumstances, and their pain can end instantly.  They are seeking oblivion and suicide will provide it for them.

If you or a loved one is in imminent danger of committing suicide call 911 immediately.

National Suicide Hotlines, USA

Unites States of America

1-800-SUICIDE–1-800-784-2433 1-800-273-TALK–1-800-273-8255

1-800-799-4TTY–1-800-799-4889 (Deaf Hotline)

The Stigma Of Suicide – Mental Health Awareness

Posted on by
Reply

Society has preconceived ideas about people with a mental health issue. Not only does this stigma cloud how people view the actions of someone with a mental illness, it also determines how a “normal” person believes someone with a mental illness should look. So when I attempted suicide last year, it took  many people by surprise. They had this idea that I was “too smart to ever do anything so stupid”, and I did not fit into their idea of what a person with a mental illness should look like.

Many people think that if  someone attempts suicide they are weak or have some sort of character flaw.  Some have religious  beliefs that say suicide is an unforgivable sin.  In the face of such negativity, is it any wonder that many people with suicidal thoughts will not reach out for help?

People who are suicidal are not weak nor do they have a character flaw.  They are individuals with very real illnesses who need understanding, respect, and care, not judgments and misunderstanding.

The Stigma Of Suicide


The stigma associated with mental illness prevents many people who are at risk of suicide from seeking help for treatable problems.  The stigma of suicide itself may also reduce the number of people who reach out for help, and adds to emotional burdens.    Family members of suicide attempters often hide the behavior from friends and relatives, since they may believe that it reflects badly on their own relationship with the suicide attempter or that suicidal behavior itself is shameful or sinful. Persons who attempt suicide may have many of these same feelings. Those who have survived the suicide of a loved one suffer not only the grief of loss, but the pain of isolation from a community that may be perplexed and uninformed about suicide and its risk factors.

Historically, the stigma associated with mental illness, has contributed to inadequate funding available for mental health services and suicide prevention programs.  It also contributes to insurance companies not providing enough health care coverage for mental health services.

Until the stigma is reduced, treatable mental health problems, including those with a strong relation to suicide, will continue to go untreated and crisis treatment services will also be limited.  This means, the number of people at risk for suicide will remain much higher than it should be.

If you or a loved one is in imminent danger of committing suicide call 911 immediately.

National Suicide Hotlines, USA

Unites States of America

1-800-SUICIDE–1-800-784-2433                           1-800-273-TALK–1-800-273-8255

1-800-799-4TTY–1-800-799-4889  (Deaf Hotline)

Why Die?

Posted on by
6

Photobucket

Originally posted September 9, 2009

I have been asked, why is it that I thought suicide was a viable option for me.  There is no easy or quick answer for that question. From my perspective though, my choice of suicide was not a random or pointless decision. By the time I finally attempted suicide my thinking was so skewed, that unless a person has experienced similar thoughts, it is difficult to explain just how all consuming my suicidal thoughts were and why.

The last few months have been the lowest I have ever experienced.  Let’s face it, when a person gets to a point where they can see suicide as a logical, problem solving choice, it implies that, in their mind at least, they have reached a point where their life has very little meaning.   I felt abandoned, alone, unloved, afraid, sad, angry and unworthy.  I felt as if my back was against the wall and there was no other way out.  For months, it seemed as though every thought I had involved suicide.

I think I became obsessed with the thought of suicide.  If I encountered a difficult problem, my first thought was of suicide.  If my husband and I had an argument, my first thought was of suicide.  If I became sad about something going on in my life, my first thought was suicide.  I am sure you get the picture by now, I was applying the “solution” of suicide to every difficulty I faced.

To me suicide represented an end of consciousness.  An end to the horrible thoughts of feeling like I had been abandoned, that I was unloved, alone, afraid, sad, angry and unworthy.  An end to a deep, searing psychological pain, that just would not go away.  I had no hope and I believed that there was no one or nothing that could help me.  Suicide was the ultimate way that I could escape.

Fortunately, when it finally came time to enact my suicide plan, there was some small part of me, deep inside, that was not absolutely, convinced that suicide was the right choice.  That part, that little tiny voice, is the one that ended up calling for an ambulance.  Since that time I have learned that I am loved, that I am not alone, my sadness is not as deep, my anger is slowing going away, I am becoming less afraid and I am learning that I am worthy.  I no longer see suicide as my only choice.