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.
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Thank you for this. I read this a couple of years ago and I’ve read it many times again.
The last part always stuck with me… I actually have “for telling, for surviving” tattooed on my forearm.
Anonymous, your comment means a lot to me. Thank you for letting me know my words touched you. I’d love to see the tattoo!
Every day when I wake, it’s a disappointment… I’m STILL here. It’s somewhat comforting to know that others feel like I do. Every morning, I wish for the end.
I understand completely
Thank you.
I think “chronic suicidal thoughts” is likely the most searched term in my phone. I think of it daily, and have for more than 3 years. It has been an on-and-off thought throughout my life but more recently a daily resignation. Until yesterday I figured I probably wouldn’t, that’s I can accept the thought Let It Go and move on. It’s just depression. But yesterday in an almost glorious moment, the realization that I could and would kill myself washed over me like a warm blanket. Like most women I don’t relish the idea of the wreckage it will leave behind, and that’s probably what generally keeps me here. It’s certainly not for me. For me I want to be gone. Anywhere but alive, anywhere but in pain. I have wonderful fun days and on those days I still think of it but I know it won’t happen that day. And other days, the darker days, I wish for it so wholeheartedly. If I could just find a way out. But now since yesterday I feel a bit better in knowledge that I can and will. I have undiagnosed borderline personality disorder , I am a psychologist, I know the answers, but when it’s your own pain it doesn’t matter. I know how to reach out I know who to talk to you I know all the right answers oh, and it doesn’t matter. The only happiness for me is in the knowledge I can and will.
I understand, Sierra.
All too well…
I hope you are still with us.
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You are kidding me with all the words before you ask me to explain
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