What will people think of you?
What will people say about you?
Some people asked me these questions when I told them I was publishing an essay in the New York Times (“A Suicide Therapist’s Secret Past”) about a very dark time in my life when I made a suicide attempt. I can’t really blame them. I myself had the same fears.
It’s stigma. If I had been pummeled by a tornado and almost died, or survived breast cancer, or been robbed at gunpoint, no one would question my decision to tell others of my experience. However unfairly, suicide and mental illness are treated differently. They are, to many people, unspeakable.
The meaning of stigma is “a mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or person.” I refuse to abide by the notion that people with suicidal thoughts, depression, and other mental health problems deserve a mark of disgrace.
Depression and suicidality are things that happen to people, like cancer or bad weather. It’s not our fault, and it’s not something that taints us.
And so the fear I felt in coming out paradoxically fueled my motivation to do it.
A Long-Held Secret
For 22 years, I kept secret from almost everyone that I had made a suicide attempt in my first year of graduate school in Austin. Personally, it felt deeply private to me, even tender, a source of shame and failure regardless of whether that shame was deserved. Professionally, it seemed too much of a liability for people to know.
Of all people, some mental health professionals hold very stigmatizing attitudes toward people with mental illness. In my master’s program and beyond, I heard some colleagues’ disparaging remarks: “People who attempt suicide just want attention.” “She’s being manipulative.” “He’s so sick.”
Many physicians and nurses are openly hostile to people who have attempted suicide. When I worked as an emergency room social worker, more than once a physician came to me and said of a patient who had attempted suicide, “Could you please tell them how to do it right next time?”
Stigma exists even among researchers who devote themselves to helping prevent suicide. Early in my doctoral studies, I heard a suicide researcher complain that some people who worked in their research lab had a history of suicidal thoughts or behavior. The researcher wanted to know how to “weed out” these people before unknowingly hiring more people with a suicidal past.
From these experiences and more like them, I got the message loud and clear: Don’t tell anyone your past if you want to get a job, be respected and cared about, and succeed. Hide. Be quiet.
So that’s what I did – for more than 20 years.
Liberating Truth
I never lied. When people asked me why I was so interested in suicide prevention, I told them a friend of mine had died by suicide in high school, and the experience had filled me with questions about how to help suicidal people. I give this same explanation in my essay Why I Study Suicide.
It’s true. But it’s not the whole truth.
The whole truth is much bigger than a 1,400-word essay in the New York Times can capture. Maybe one day I will write a far longer piece about my experiences with depression and suicidality, maybe even a book. But for now, I wanted to at least come out of the closet.
Suicide prevention activists and researchers like to say that we need to lift the taboo about suicide. Talk about it. Diminish stigma. If enough people from diverse walks of life share their stories about mental illness and suicide, then stigma will buckle under the weight of enlightenment, education, and compassion.
As I explain in the New York Times piece, the longer I hid that I myself had been intensely suicidal, the more hypocritical I felt. I needed to do my part.
Some people cannot take the risk of revealing their mental illness, suicidality, or other vulnerabilities. They might be fired, or discriminated against, or hurt in other ways. Though I wish it were not so, the risk is real.
I could afford to tell my story. As an associate professor at the University of Denver Graduate School of Social Work, I have tenure. I’m not going to get fired for revealing my past.
It also helps that I recently finished writing a book, Helping the Suicidal Person: Tips and Techniques for Professionals. This gave me a huge sense of accomplishment and pride. I feel more confident now, not only professionally, but personally, too.
What Do People Think?
So let’s go back to the questions that came before the essay was published: What will people think of you? What will people say?
I’m happy to say that almost all of the responses have been positive. In the New York Times comments section, on my personal Facebook page, and in emails, phone calls, and handwritten notes, people convey their support. There are no doubt some people who think less of me, or judge me, or are aghast because I suffer from depression and I attempted suicide. I am not likely to receive emails from them.
Perhaps most gratifying to me are the emails from other people with mental illness and suicidality, many of whom are also mental health professionals. They tell me that my story helps them to feel less alone, less afraid, and more hopeful.
I love knowing that my essay is, in its own small way, spreading hope to others. But my motives in publishing it weren’t entirely selfless.
In sharing my experience with suicide, I also hoped to help myself. My suicidal past was a big secret to carry, especially as someone working in the suicide prevention field. I felt like an impostor, hiding in a dark closet of secrecy.
In coming out of the closet, I have stepped into the light.
Copyright 2017 Stacey Freedenthal, PhD, LCSW. All Rights Reserved. Written for Speaking of Suicide. All photos purchased from Fotolia.com.
Thank you, I hope you have support.
Thank you, Jessica! I’ve had great support over the years, and still do. Personal and professional, friends and family, cats and dogs — I’m grateful for them all! 🙂
Thank you for your work, Stacy. I found you today when my friend “Sue” asked for help to know what to say to her cousin who called her very early in the morning because she was having suicidal thoughts. I had access to the Internet, so I googled “encouraging things to say to someone with suicidal thoughts” and texted her several of your suggestions and all the positive, encouraging things I could think of to strengthen Sue. I reread your article and about you before closing the tab at the end of the day. When I was 24, I lost my father to suicide. It was a dark and difficult time, but I was pregnant with my first child and had to be strong. Years later when I was teaching freshman English, I always publicized the Psychology department’s efforts to help. “You may never need their services, but your roommate might, or your mom, or someone you care a lot about,” I would say, “so find out how you can help.” I’m glad you could come out into the light, Stacy. I am 86 now, so I know something about fear and stigma, having lived through a time with no support groups and lots of misunderstanding and judgmental attitudes. It’s good for you to shed the secrecy, and it increases your credibility, too. 10.01.23
Dale,
Thanks for your thoughtful comment. I appreciate your supportive words!
I hope your friend’s cousin makes it through okay. And, too, I’m sorry about your dad’s suicide.
Twelve years ago, at the age of 39, I attempted suicide. It was the darkest time of my life. I was embarrassed, shameful and feared that somebody would find out. I lost my job, lost my partner and wished I hadn’t survived. Only a few people knew and I kept that secret close. Three years after I attempted suicide, my nephew killed himself. He was so young, only 18, with a full life ahead of him. I felt guilty that I never told family members, especially my nephew. I wonder if he would have come to me for help, had he known what I had gone through. Maybe he would still be alive. Why does suicide have to be something so taboo to talk about? After reading the articles and comments on this site, I realize that I am not alone. So many people had/have the same secret…even you.
As sad as I am that you made a suicide attempt Stacey, it is encouraging to know that people can recover. I am in my late 60’s and since I retired 6 years ago, life has been less than kind. I have been watching my mom die a slow, painful death, I myself suffer from a chronic, incurable disease and I suffered trauma, after which I hurt others (not physically) in the process. I am in physical and mental pain every single day and if not for my family whom I adore, I am not sure I would still be here, though I fear death especially since I believe that anyone who takes their own life does not go to heaven (though the ‘funny’ part is that after all I have seen and been through, I no longer believe there is a God). I am on medication and am working with a psychotherapist from one of the country’s top notch mental health facilities. What hurts the most is that before all of this, I was at my physical and mental best and was so looking forward to retirement. I have SO much to live for…a beautiful family to include a grandchild, wealth, etc. yet many nights I wish I would go to sleep and not wake up). My life was once as close to perfect as one could get. Every day I get up and hope that this day will be better and though some days are not ‘as bad’ they are not anywhere near what they used to be. I still most days have the lingering thought that I want to leave this world, though I really don’t if that makes sense, however I know doing so would destroy my family. Anyways, thank you for sharing some hope.
Thank you very much for ‘coming out’ i attempted suicide 4 times in a year whilst the pandemic was going on. The last time was last May and was then most serious in that i wanted to die. I turned off my phone and lay on my bed waiting for the light to go out. Even as i was writing in pain as the pills started getting into my system i told myself to be patient. this would soon be over. It was only due to a concerned friend that i’m here. I’d been unconscious for 24 hours and ended up in a psych ward for 4 months. I remember the hostility of some nurses whilst in the general hospital. i was so down i just felt like i deserved their scorn. i guess nurses try to save peoples lifes and can’t understand people wanting to end theirs.
I’ve recently started training as a peer support worker and what this has bought up for me is that i haven’t talked about the attemps. Not even to my therapist who i trust and know i can. i’m very selective about the people i go out with as i feel like i have this finger pointing at me saying ‘shes the one who tried to kill herself’. the hard thing is that i’m very sensitive to the subtle changes within people when they’re around me. Before these episodes i was a thriving woman who had respect from the community. I’m a massage therapist and i had a decent client base. Now, very few people come to my door. I wonder how i come to terms with it all
Louisa Cox