About Suicide Thoughts

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**I found this post while cleaning out my document folder. I wrote it four years ago and assume I did so because I had recently lost someone and I questioned my own mortality. **

Why People That Commit Suicide Don’t Talk About It Beforehand

I am terrified to share this, because of the stigma associated with people that attempt or commit suicide, hell, people who even think about suicide.  However, I am going to because I had a very dark moment last night that I believe only God helped me out of.  Only God because I was alone in my basement.  People don’t talk about this shit because they are embarrassed.  They don’t talk about it because they are afraid they will be laughed at, made fun of or worse yet, called a psycho and told to “get help.”

We all know someone who committed suicide.  Tragically sad, it’s true.  We sit and we think, “Why didn’t we know how they felt?”  “Why didn’t they reach out?”  “How could they do this?”

I’ll tell you why.  Because during the grey moments before the darkness consumes; before the shadows engulf the eternally depressed, We Did Reach Out.

We complained a lot.  We were sad a lot.  Or maybe even we were a little too happy.  We tried to talk about how we felt, but no one wanted to hear about it.  They were either too busy or they judged.

“Stop being stupid.”  “Don’t be an asshole – grow up.”  “You have so much to live for.  Just be happy.”

Or there is the whole: “Everyone feels like that.”  “Oh, you’ll be fine.” “Suck it up, buttercup.”

There is a subtle, consuming darkness before the thought that “I seriously cannot think of one goddamn reason to be on this Earth” hits a person.

There is that complete darkness – literal and virtual – that we sit in and we actually begin steps to take our own life.  We yell, we cry and sob – We beg God to help us.  We do this alone, maybe in the basement while our loved ones sleep upstairs, clueless.

Some of us get a fleeting moment, a millisecond in time of rational thinking – some of us do not get that sliver of hope. Some of us write notes because there is no other way to communicate, some of us do not because we have no idea what to say. And quite frankly, they didn’t want to hear it in the first place, so what is the point of a note, really?

I mean… fucking really.

So, maybe we go to the ‘shrink’ and we talk about our shit for a while and the only solution they come up with is, “You are (fill in the blank).  Here, start this medication and come back in a month.  We’ll see how you’re feeling then. And oh yeah, don’t forget the $50. co-pay.”

Or we go to the shrink and they nod the whole time we talk and they hand us a piece of paper with bullet points on it.

Or we go to the shrink and it’s so goddamn expensive it comes down to “Electric Bill or Mental Health?”

We have really exhausted every option and all we want is to be heard. We need someone to just shut the fuck up and listen.

So maybe the next time someone you know (whether you are very close or not so close) seems to be acting different or is sad (maybe for the 13th time in 3 weeks) or really happy (too happy?), ask what’s on their mind and really mean it.  Sit and listen; don’t judge.

You might just save that person’s life.

***

Image: Pixabay

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/observe/

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Author: D. A. M. Steelman

I could get through life just fine quoting heavy metal lyrics.

8 thoughts on “About Suicide Thoughts”

  1. This is such a thoughtful post and I can totally relate to your feeling when we judge people around us for being sad and complaining.When we take other people for granted and pretend they will jump out of their problems on their own.
    It almost impossible for people to be compassionate these days and not everyone can afford the expensive therapy every time.So yes, as you said we should have some compassion for fellow human being and give them the help they need.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. It’s important to be alert to cues and act on them, but context is important. I really appreciate your conclusion.

    I had to endure several months of therapy as a high school junior because a concerned friend told the principal I was thinking of killing myself when I wasn’t. I had been down in the dumps for a few weeks, and during a general conversation about suicide with a group of friends, I was the only one who admitted to having thought of killing myself before, but I went on to explain that I’d never do it because I enjoyed life too much and I was too much of a coward anyway. At the time I was Catholic and believed I’d go to hell for eternity if I killed myself. I just figured they were normal angsty teenage thoughts and was surprised that none of my other friends would admit to having thought about it. To my consternation, I got called to the principal’s office for a meeting with my parents the following week, and even though I explained all that to them, all involved adults decided I needed a referral to a psychiatrist. That ended up causing a great deal of disruption in my family’s life & finances as my parents, who had 3 other children with busy lives, had to take turns taking off work to carry me from school to therapy then back home, and not many insurance companies covered therapy in the 1980s; certainly my parents’ company didn’t.

    I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry, but I was resentful for a long time that my family and I were made to go through that. If my friends & family had been paying closer attention to my words and my behavior, they would’ve known better.

    Liked by 1 person

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