Thoughts about suicide, and reaching out
Jul. 2nd, 2015 12:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dbskylerDon't worry, I'm not suicidal. But, I did just come back from a memorial for a friend who committed suicide. And so I've been thinking about him, and about the mental state that leads to committing suicide, and I feel I have to write about it.
My friend planned his suicide. He left messages -- lots of different messages, for lots of different people -- and one of the things he said in his messages was that he knew his suicide would cause pain, and that the people he loved, and the people whom he knew loved him, had kept him alive, and that if it weren't for that connection, he would have committed suicide long ago. But now it was too much, now he wanted to end his suffering, and while he knew help was available, he was deliberately choosing not to seek it out.
I didn't know this friend very well. In truth, I am probably stretching things by using the word "friend"; he was more of an acquaintance, and a mutual friend of other friends, and I had had no idea that he even struggled with depression, let alone to this extent. That was one of the things he said in his suicide notes, too -- that he had become good at mimicking happiness because he didn't want to inject his unhappiness into interactions with others.
And I think about the times when I've been depressed in my life, and I realize I've done the same. There have been times when I was severely, deeply depressed, and no one knew. When you're in that state, reaching out is the very last thing you want to do, and even if you know intellectually that it might help you, your emotions tell you that it won't -- that it will only cause unhappiness to others, and stress to yourself at a time when you absolutely cannot bear one more iota of emotional pain -- and so you curl in, and instead you just endure. If you're lucky, then, like in my case, the depression eventually lifts, and you come out again. And you don't talk about it, at least not in any real, deep sense. You don't talk about it because it's uncomfortable to talk about, and worrying to friends and family, and even stigmatizing. But mostly you don't talk about it because there isn't really anything to talk about. There's no story to tell. There's just a feeling, something that encompassed you for a time and then went away -- or, as in the case of my friend, didn't go away, until he couldn't bear it any longer and made it go away using the only method he believed would work.
And so, in memory of my friend, I just want to say -- reach out. If you're depressed, and have nothing to say, then just say that you're feeling depressed, and have nothing else to say. If you're not depressed, reach out to the people around you. Check in with them, and find out how things are going -- try to find out how things are really going, moving beyond the shallow shorthand of "everything's fine." Try to reach beyond the mimicry.
Try to create a world where help is not only available to those who seek it, but already there to those who lack the capacity to seek it. Reach out, one person at a time.
My friend planned his suicide. He left messages -- lots of different messages, for lots of different people -- and one of the things he said in his messages was that he knew his suicide would cause pain, and that the people he loved, and the people whom he knew loved him, had kept him alive, and that if it weren't for that connection, he would have committed suicide long ago. But now it was too much, now he wanted to end his suffering, and while he knew help was available, he was deliberately choosing not to seek it out.
I didn't know this friend very well. In truth, I am probably stretching things by using the word "friend"; he was more of an acquaintance, and a mutual friend of other friends, and I had had no idea that he even struggled with depression, let alone to this extent. That was one of the things he said in his suicide notes, too -- that he had become good at mimicking happiness because he didn't want to inject his unhappiness into interactions with others.
And I think about the times when I've been depressed in my life, and I realize I've done the same. There have been times when I was severely, deeply depressed, and no one knew. When you're in that state, reaching out is the very last thing you want to do, and even if you know intellectually that it might help you, your emotions tell you that it won't -- that it will only cause unhappiness to others, and stress to yourself at a time when you absolutely cannot bear one more iota of emotional pain -- and so you curl in, and instead you just endure. If you're lucky, then, like in my case, the depression eventually lifts, and you come out again. And you don't talk about it, at least not in any real, deep sense. You don't talk about it because it's uncomfortable to talk about, and worrying to friends and family, and even stigmatizing. But mostly you don't talk about it because there isn't really anything to talk about. There's no story to tell. There's just a feeling, something that encompassed you for a time and then went away -- or, as in the case of my friend, didn't go away, until he couldn't bear it any longer and made it go away using the only method he believed would work.
And so, in memory of my friend, I just want to say -- reach out. If you're depressed, and have nothing to say, then just say that you're feeling depressed, and have nothing else to say. If you're not depressed, reach out to the people around you. Check in with them, and find out how things are going -- try to find out how things are really going, moving beyond the shallow shorthand of "everything's fine." Try to reach beyond the mimicry.
Try to create a world where help is not only available to those who seek it, but already there to those who lack the capacity to seek it. Reach out, one person at a time.