Nearly a dozen souls were admitted to the psychiatric unit
the second night I was there. All of them were seriously contemplating or had
attempted to leave this world. Although I was there for the same reason, I
found myself heartbroken that I had so much company. And then I realized that
these are the survivors. That year, 48,344 people died by suicide in our
country. The impact reaches everyone.
I’ve hesitated to add my thoughts to the dialogue, for a
couple of reasons. First, I want people to understand that although my bipolar
disorder distorts my thoughts in a way that sometimes makes suicide appealing,
or leaves me with terrible obsessions, I am still usually stable.
Second, I found myself imagining the guilt someone might
feel when a loved one dies by suicide even after following these ideas. Guilt
on top of grief is a very heavy burden. But my hope that someone’s grief could possibly
be avoided became stronger than my hesitation. I’m absolutely not an expert—but
having been in situations that could have easily become tragedies, I feel like
I have a voice to be heard. Plus, from my experience, these things actually
help more than you’d think they could.
I’ve split the following ideas into two sections. One for
helpers, who represent the “strong lifeguards”, and one for considerers, who
represent the “smart swimmers”.
For Helpers—Be strong lifeguards
1. Be an available safe place
When
I was out for a walk on a busy road and all I could think about was stepping in
front of a car, and my husband was 45 minutes away, I called the next person to
come to mind. I called my friend.
Like
a lifeguard wears a universally identifiable bright red tank top marked with a
large white cross, without specifically saying it, my friend had reminded me
over and over again that she was there for me. And not just that she was there
for me, but that in a moment of crisis, she would drop everything and stay with
me as long as I needed it.
Sometimes
when I’m having a hard time, I call my dad. It helps that he’s a therapist, but
more than that, he’s a regular in my life. The regulars are like lifeguards,
perched in places that enable them to spot the signs of something not being
quite right. Just as drowning is often silent, depression is excellent at
silencing the ability of a person to reach out. The regulars are the ones that
considerers can trust to help, and the ones who they can think of reaching out
to.
To
someone considering suicide, the regulars in their life are like lifeguards jumping
into the water. If you can be on the phone, great. If you can be together in
person, even better. It’s important to reduce the person’s sense of isolation,
because depression is also excellent at amplifying loneliness.
In
your attempts to help, be careful to not imply in any sense that the person,
their situation, or their requests are a burden. A lifeguard would consider it
their duty and responsibility to help. It’s what they signed up for. Grief
would be a heavier and longer-lasting burden.
I
remember the night of my first daughter’s blessing day, when she was only a
couple of months old, feeling like such a burden with my postpartum issues that
it would be better if I just left the world, and that anyone would be a
better mother to her than I would be. Looking back now, I realize how wrong I
was, but in that moment it made complete sense. I’m grateful that when I shared
these thoughts with my husband that he took me seriously. That’s part of being
an available safe place.
2. Take it seriously
Both times I was admitted to the psychiatric unit, the first
professionals who evaluated me didn’t think I was truly at risk. But I knew
myself more than they did. I feared my spontaneity and I knew that I didn’t
feel safe. Later in the process, I was finally taken seriously. Viewing someone
as attention-seeking is not helpful, and honestly might even encourage an
attempt. I’m sure I’m not the only one who might have sarcastically thought, Oh
really? If I attempt or follow through, then will you take me seriously?
Lifeguards are trained to be the most serious person at the
pool. When someone has enough courage to say they’re having a hard time, pay
attention. Start talking about it.
3. Talk
about it
Shrink
the elephant in the room. Someone asking me if I feel suicidal is not going to
suddenly make me feel like it’s a good idea, whether or not it had already been
on my mind. In fact, bringing it up and discussing what I’m going through and
giving me feelings of purpose, belonging, and hope help me realize and
reinforce that it’s not a good idea. Think
about it. A swimmer talking about
drowning isn’t more likely to drown. And a lifeguard can give tips to help in
dangerous situations.
More
than once, my husband has been the one to drop everything, and he has become
excellent at talking about my suicidal thoughts. If something’s not clear to
him, he’ll ask, “Should I be worried?” That question helps me sort out what I’m
feeling and communicate the urgency of the situation.
4. Keep them safe
When I was seven years old, the lifeguard at our local pool
instructed me to swim from one side of the pool to the other to test if I was
ready to play in the deep end. I really struggled, and as I caught my breath, I
was told to stay in the shallow area.
I’ve asked
my husband on more than one occasion to hide the sharp objects and medications
in our house so that I don’t have access to them. When I’m feeling more stable,
we put them back where they belong. Ask the considerer what you can do to help
keep them safe and do it.
5. Help get help
A strong lifeguard knows his or her limits. Once they’ve
done their part, others, like paramedics, step in.
So, when you’re helping someone who is considering suicide,
help them get professional help. You can get on a call to a crisis line with
them. Go to an emergency room or mental health access center with them. The
simplest things can seem so overwhelming when depression is involved, and
there’s a particular fear that comes with considering suicide which is hard to
overcome alone. But with someone by their side, they’re much more likely to get
the help they need.
For Considerers—Be smart swimmers
1. Go through the motions of coping
You’ve probably often heard the phrase, “Just keep
swimming.” If you’re considering suicide, trying coping activities may be
helpful. Some of my go-tos are music, funny tv shows, cooking, exercise, art,
and writing. Find something you can count on to soothe your soul. Work to find
a distraction, and if you need to, take a break.
2. Make other plans
Smart swimmers know when their body needs a break and they
need to float. Sometimes, however, I find that doing nothing exacerbates my
feelings of worthlessness. My psychiatrist taught me a trick though for those
days I need to float.
She said to make plans. Make a plan for tomorrow that will
improve it. They don’t need to be grandiose things. For example, even though I
don’t feel like doing anything today, I can plan to take my kids to get ice
cream tomorrow. Planning the memories you want to make is incredibly powerful
against suicidal thoughts.
3. Find a way to be kind
Okay, so maybe this one doesn’t really fit with my swimming
analogy, but planning to do, or actually doing something kind for someone else
is another powerful tactic against suicidal thoughts. Again, it can be
something simple and even anonymous like picking up some trash at the park, or doorbell-ditching
a treat for a neighbor. It increases self-worth almost instantly. Intentional
kindness makes intentional living easier.
4. Leave triggering situations
One cold rainy day, I found myself at work with an intense
obsession to jump off of the balcony near my cubicle, and as the urge became
stronger, I realized it was time for me to take a sick day and leave the
situation. Smart swimmers do their best to stay out of dangerous water.
5. Have a safety plan
Smart swimmers wear life jackets in open water. Prior to
being released from the psychiatric unit, patients are required to write a
safety plan for those times that they find themselves again in figurative open
water. We write down our warning signs, coping skills we can use, the people
we’ll reach out to (choose some good lifeguards beforehand, so you’ll never
find yourself swimming in a pool with no lifeguard on duty), the places we can
go for help, and then we sign our name in a promise to live as long and as best
as we can.
Forty-eight thousand, three hundred and forty-four people—all
with names. All with families, and hopefully friends. All of them felt they
were drowning. Maybe now, by keeping these ten ideas in mind, we can keep more
of us afloat.
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