When you come to me for help, I want to help you.
I hope you will let me.
I cannot know your secrets without your words.
I hope you will tell me.
Tell me, please, your thoughts of suicide.
You might feel scared to tell me
When I ask if you are thinking of suicide.
I will try to help you feel safe.
I will not judge you.
I will not interrogate you.
I will not panic.
I will listen gently as you tell your story
In your own words, in your own way.
Suicide might tell you not to tell me.
Suicide might tell you I am your enemy.
Suicide lies.
Suicide might tell you that nobody could possibly help you,
That dying is the only way to end your pain.
Suicide might even tell you that you are a bad person
Defective, undeserving of life
Or love, or hope, or compassion.
Please, tell me.
I cannot help you fight the enemy
If you do not tell me about the enemy,
The enemy that is trying to kill you.
Do not trust your suicidal thoughts.
They are not rational.
They are a symptom, a sign, a cry from inside.
Something inside you needs healing.
Healing, not killing.
Tell me, please, what suicide tells you.
Does it tell you everything that is wrong with your life?
Everything that is wrong with you?
Suicide plays tricks with truth,
Telling only the truths that make you want to die
Hiding the truths that make you want to live.
The pieces of hope.
The pathways to healing.
The possible.
Tell me, please.
Or tell somebody else.
I am only one of many people who can help you.
But nobody can help you if you tell nobody.
Thank you.
One day you will thank you, too.
For telling.
For surviving.
***
© Copyright 2014 Stacey Freedenthal, PhD, LCSW, All Rights Reserved. Written for www.speakingofsuicide.com. Photos purchased from Fotolia.com.
I want to kill myself, I worked through an addiction, got my life back went back to work in the federal government. I never imagine that I would ever get sober, I thought I would never get a job back in the federal government, but I did and I began to start my life all over again. Now after 23 years of being sober and being back in the Federal government and now getting fired from a job after all these years. Now losing that and not fairly either, I am thinking I want to end thsis now, and I want out of this world feel like I want out. Go to the doctor and they give me pills but I don’t feel nobody understands this pain, I pray but do God even hear me why don’t he love me what have I done for him to allow this to happen to me. This is my story life of failing, losing out and pain and I don’t understand why.
I’m sure it will be alright,…plz dnt do anything…..I`m sure you will be fine. You will be alright,…I`ll pray for you 🙂
Randomly, I got on Pinterest tonight. A person that I follow, posted the, “Letter from a Therapist To a Suicidal Person”. I read it. I was about to close it and then saw your note at the end.
I believe in God too. It cannot be coincidence that I saw your note. I will not panic. I will ask that you somehow take the time out for me and let me in. Let me have a small opportunity to chat with you and see where our conversation leads us.
Mark
but what happens when you finally tell everyone, and no help comes from anywhere?
I thought I was going to get better, I really did. I had made a previous comment and my name was “Surviving”. Here’s an update: So, I am going to tell you my life story so far. When I was 8 years old my mom and my dad got a divorce. It was a pretty nasty one too. Then, when my parents got a divorce my mom started drinking. Shortly after that, she became a chronic alcoholic. And… she started beating me. At the ripe age of 11 I had to hide my bruises from all of my friends at sleepovers. She would get drunk and then beat me almost every night I was at her house (it was 50/50% parenting time. So I would be at my dad’s house 50% of the time). Then, when I finally had enough, I left and moved to my dad’s house 100% of the time. Then, a year passed and my life was the average 12 year old girl’s. Then, when I turned 13 it all went to hell. In December of 2015 I started cutting. And then, I told my dad about it and I have started to go to therapy. And I thought that was such an amazing thing, but it’s not making anything better. Then, about 5 days ago… I started cutting my right thigh again. And, then every other day I cut. And I literally cannot stop. And honestly, I don’t know what I want anymore. I am going to tell my therapist that I haven’t cut. And I will lie to everyone that I have to in order to keep this hidden.
I cut more today. And the day before. Two people have made me promise that if I stop cutting they will. But, I know that one of them is just cutting for attention so he doesn’t get it. And the other actually gets it. But, honestly, I think I’m going to keep cutting anyway. Not because I am disloyal to those people but because I’m not strong enough to stop anymore.
I am going to kill myself soon. I am of no value to my family and just cause them more pain and anguish. My husband doesn’t deserve to have me as his wife. My kids need a mom that can be there for them and love them. I love my kids but I never should have had them. I shouldn’t be a mom. If they didn’t have such a loving father that loves them unconditionally, I’d put them up for adoption. I know he will raise them properly without me in the picture. I need to know what to leave them with so that they know this isn’t their fault and that they didn’t deserve to have me as their mother. I want my husband to marry a woman that can be the kind of mother that I’ll never be to my children. They will be so much happier once I am no longer in their lives to mess everything up. I am not even sad writing this because I know it’s the right thing to do. My 6 and 4 year olds will need to know that I did this so that they would have a chance to grow up without me ruining their lives. My 3 month old is too young to remember me later on, so he will be fine. My husband will get over my death pretty quickly because Inwont be around to destroy his happiness. I feel bad for him and wish I had never entered his life because he would have been so much happier never having me to ruin his life.
K,
Oh, how you hurt! It hurts even to read your words; I can’t imagine how much it hurts to live them. I don’t know you and I don’t know your situation. I don’t know what it is you’ve done that you believe is ruining their lives and your husband’s, and I don’t know awful it really is or isn’t. But I do know that anyone who is suicidal 3 months after giving birth should see a professional and be evaluated for post-partum depression or some other treatable condition that could account for suicidal thoughts and self-attack.
The fact that your mind is telling you that your 3-month-old will be fine because he won’t remember you, and that your other children will understand, suggests that your mind is lying to you right now. Please don’t believe the lies. Or at least try not to.
I urge you to get help. As the letter says, please tell somebody. Your gynecologist. Your physician. Your psychiatrist, therapist, or counselor if you have one already. Your husband, too.
For starters, you can call the 24-hour national hotline at 1.800.273.8255 (TALK) if you are in North America. If you aren’t, you can call the emergency services in your area. Wherever you are, you can simply go to the emergency room and tell them why you need help.
I hope you will seriously consider that, right now, for whatever reasons, your mind is not to be trusted. Please let someone help you!
Hello K~
I’d like to give you a view from the other side of the fence.
I won’t say “I know what you’re going through”: I couldn’t help My Partner and now can’t figure my own mind out.
You’re not a burden! Your husband loves you. Your Kids are a Beautiful Gift.
Having a Loved One by your side is priceless! I would give Every Drop of Blood in my body just to get a hug from My Soulmate again…anything, for another hug.
**My Story’s long: not to bore you, or add emotions, just I was My Partner’s Sole Caregiver, Our Love was perfect, simple and beautiful.
*Wanted to show what I did and would do all over again to help him.
I have ADHD, always restless, never slowing-down. Helping My Partner was absolutely The Most Challenging Thing I’ve ever done: my ADHD Energy was often tapped…….I’ve since lost everything, BUT! know what? I’D DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN.
You’re no burden, Love endures.
Please: communicate if you need, Caregivers try their best, watching your face/body language when you don’t say anything, desperate to help.
Crying inside when We can’t figure out The Miracle That would “solve all your problems” for you, even begging God to trade places.
You are loved! If someone doesn’t respond properly when you need, or answer when you ask: help them understand What you need.
We’ll do anything to help our Loved Ones!
My mind’s overwhelmed just coping everyday, but thinking Good Thoughts and Prayers for you and your family.
My Partner completed suicide, in front of me, on 2/16/2015.
We were together ten years, living out-of-state from our families.
I was his first male partner: He’d recently seperated from a 17 year marriage: during the seperation, his ex-wife gave away all his belongings, including two dogs who were like children. His family never bothered, friends sided with the ex.
He felt abandoned by All, praying for “someone who’ll just love me”.
The first 9 1/2 years were perfect.
He did have back surgery in 2005, leading to the Pain Med Rollercoaster.
Found out later, he’d been physically abused as a child. This can cause PTSD that can lay dormant for years until triggered.
Extreme work stress, feeling responsible for the deaths of a best friend to suicude and the dogs his ex-wife gave away “they died, wondering why “Daddy wasn’t there for me”: yeah, He was a big animal lover and was affected deeply.
His mom, an Only Child, would never help/visit, had “allowed” the Child Abuse: by two boyfriends, who she stayed with even after the abuse.
His Dad passed in 2009, our boss said “you’re like a son” right after, but never acted like a Dad. Fred’d taken his comment deeply, feeling hurt when he didn’t act like a Dad.
His brother, who he raised and felt proud he protected him from the abuse, never called/visited.
He was very frustrated, bumbed-out: He helped anyone who needed, without expecting anything, even his mom everytime She needed, had been a Volunteer Fire Fighter, saving several lives, Law Enforcement too.
His Pain (Spine & Cervical Fusions) made him feel worthless ’cause he’d hear of old friends still “living”, but He couldn’t. Felt “worthless” now.
Even in June, 2014, @9 1/2 years of our ten, He asked me if He could make a female friend, missing female friendship. He never did anything to make me doubt his fidelity or integrity, and honestly, nothing made Him feel good anymore: If having a female friend helped, I was all for It.
Ended-up getting more serious, even got engaged, for 8 days in Dec., 2014. Though He’d like/love her one minute, and hate her the next, toward The End, he wanted me because “noone had ever loved Him so unconditionally”, but also wanted to see her a couple days a week.
This personality change happened quick: about 3 months before he passed. I knew Him so long before, I wasn’t going to give-up on the Fred I knew so long before: a beautiful, caring person. We never got a diagnosis, but I knew He had many “demons”.
The night he Completed, in front of me, He said no words, didn’t look at me, but chose to wait until I got home to do So.
I know what people say, but no matter The Reality, I will always have guilt That I couldn’t find “the right words” to change his mind.
I’d always been positive, supportive, no drama, loved the best I knew how.
Had called his mom a week before, as he’d done so many times over the years. Asking Her to come down, That he needed “his mommy” and an apology for the abuse.
She denied the abuse, and made excuses. I begged her that “it could mean Life/Death!”…no good.
Yet she yelled after “there should’ve been an Intervention…..last time I spoke to her.
We didn’t have a Civil Union: work, His Demons kept us so preoccupied, and that we loved each other so much: never a rush to have a piece of paper to confirm It.
The night He died, I was treated no better than a friend/roommate because no C.U.
He was still breathing/bleeding After: I desperately gave compressions and cleared the “fluids” out of his mouth until the police arrived.
So desperately busy trying to save Him, didn’t realize my arms/shirt covered in “fluids”, then feeling hurt, seeing the cops’ faces. “The Best Thing that ever happened to me is dying, bleeding, I failed Him” and all you bastards can do is give me looks!
His mom……got control of Him, Our Ten Years didn’t mean shit! to anyone: all those days/nights of suffering….just Us two, noone ever helping/caring! But now, I/We meant nothing!
Three weeks before they graced me with his Death Certificate: didn’t know when he’d passed until Then.
Got an email from BCBS with ER Charges, otherwise I would’ve never known Where he actually died.
Cops…Society…everything/one who never cared about US, robbed me of the most important promise I’d ever made: That we be there, together, at our Last Breaths…….he’d felt so abandonded all his life, it was so important to have, at least, someone there at his Last Breath: and those m.f.’s robbed me/him of It.
A year now: still fighting the VA for care: lost Him, my job, Our Home, couldn’t afford to move, but had noone, his family still never came down. They aren’t honoring his Final Wishes!! Missed His Service: our old boss screwed me on going.
The police left me at the house, alone, at 3:30a.m., w/out mentioning I had to clean-up. So scary, going into the house: everything felt “dead”, without meaning: I didn’t belong There anymore……This was Another Life.
Saw the trail they left from the bedroom out the front door, rounded the corner into the bedroom: there It was: Life’s Assault, My Failure Incarnate!
Stood there, looking at the Soaked Bed……so numb, so much Loss so fast……my mind was so full, It was blank. “what the hell do I do?” “Why did they make such a mess?” “what’d they do, drag him out?!!”
All I could do is grab a garbage bag, and grab-and-stuff until all that was left was…….the mattress. “What the hell do I do with That!?”……I scrubbed It six times: at least it wouldn’t be so bad until I figured out what to do.
Still so numb…scrubbing My Soulmate off of the mattress, but gotta do something!
The mattress sat there a week until I found someone to take the mattress.
Going in the house caused anxiety, shaky hands and nausea: would sit outside until exhausted…3-5a.m., then go just inside…and sleep on the couch by the door.
Fought The House three months to clean It out….had to move. Got so bad, I felt almost paranoid The House was alive, trying to keep me there.
I was in a prison without bars: all around, Life went on like nothing happened: noone came around, his family never bothered, the neighbors mowing their lawns, kids playing……but I HAD to get the hell out! Not Your Life Anymore!
Had to rent a 13x8x5 dumpster, overloading It with Our Life, or watching the garbage truck as It crushed my desk I used to sit at Saturday mornings, coffee in hand, relaxing…..no work, no stress…..CRUSHED! Gone……
Now dealing with Complicated Grief, PTSD, Disenfranchised Grief, a Social Anxiety Disorder……and, what I believe is Learned Helplessness.
YOU MATTER, ARE NOT A BURDEN, ARE LOVED.
I’ve been suicidal for a while now, but recently I’ve been getting pushed into it by outside forces as well. I feel like it is something that is just going to have to happen. I was toying with the idea of trying medication, but I cannot allow myself to be committed to a hospital under any circumstances. I have a severe phobia – in fact, my fear of doctors is a big part of what’s pushing me toward suicide. So I don’t trust doctors at all. I know not to ever tell a psychiatrist that Im suicidal, but what happens if I deny being suicidal, but they dont believe me? If their instinct tells them that I’m suicidal, can they commit a patient based on just their instinct, or is it 100% safe (zero chance of commitment) as long as I say the words “I’m not suicidal”?
When ever I have been admitted to hospital for ‘acting out’ a psychiatric nurse will do an assessment. This involves 3 questions 1) what did you take, 2) why did you take them, and 3) do you still feel like taking any more? 3 is the main question … answer yes and they keep you in overnight, answer no and they will say ‘OK, you can go home now. Simple really!
Hi NeedTo-
Usually It’s required you have Intention AND Method. Ever wonder why the big concern about having a gun, ammunition? Because guns have the highest success rate.
Some Attempt Survivors say That at the last minute I realized I didn’t want to die. A young lady in the F.B. Group used pills, they failed, but She said she was glad they did.
Guns are less-likely to fail, so you won’t get That chance.
**That it worries you, do you have someone Who can act as your representative? If so, They can look after you/how you’re treated.
Some believe Suicidal Intentions are expected, more as a symptom of Depression. When you say you have a Method, depending on your State’s Laws, they have to report you.
In states that don’t, it’s up to the Therapist’s Opinion/Conscience.
Please……have a friend help, but try to find the courage to seek help.
My Partner had an almost paranoia when I’d mention getting help: he’d sometimes cry, saying he wanted help, but then get scared/panic when I’d suggest anything, saying Us Two could handle It by ourselves.
Wish I had all the answers He needed to still be here with me…..
but I didn’t. Life sucks, is so empty….
I feel Life ripped everything away too, and everyone saying to stay strong, start a New Life bullshit..
I just can’t see it.
We don’t ask Rape Victims to move-in with their Assailants: well, Life is mine, raped Us of our life.
If you still, somewhere, have a speck of hope left, seek help.