Failed at Suicide, Thank Goodness

I know that there is pain
But you hold on for one more day-
And you break free from the chains
Yeah, I know that there is pain
But you hold on for one more day and you
Break free, break from the chains

Don’t you know, things can change?                                                            
Things will go your way
If you hold on for one more day
Can you hold on for one more day?
Things will go your way
Hold on for one more day

(from Wilson Phillips song, “Hold On”)

This particular song is not about suicide, but the words relate to the message in my story below. During some of the more difficult times in my life I would think about these words and try to believe them to be true, that if I held on for a while, maybe just one more day, things would get better for me. 

There has been a lot of news stories lately about suicide, and suicide prevention efforts. As a mental health professional I have some experience with prevention and interventions regarding how to help people who are thinking about committing suicide. Beyond that, sadly, I also have some personal experience with attempting suicide.

When I was a child my household was one of violence and abuse. It was also a household of apathy, one in which there was no caring about me. No acknowledgement  that I existed except to tell me to “go away and don’t bother me.” My father was out of the house by the time I was about nine years old, and my mother, while physically present in the house, was emotionally and mentally absent for as long as I can remember. My older brother was disturbed (a polite word for mentally ill) and unfortunately directed his anger and violence toward me. The physical abuse escalated over the years, but it was the apathy that was the most difficult part of growing up in this environment and the basis for my suicide attempts when I was young.

I attempted suicide twice, once with pills and once by cutting my wrists. Over the years as an adult I always knew about the pills, but it was not until I was in my forties that I remembered the cutting incident. Neither time did I really want to die. I was just desperate for someone, anyone, to care enough to help me. Before the attempts to end my life, I had tried to show others I needed help; tried in many other ways, but nothing worked.  Eventually the screaming inside led me to using the pills and the cutting in the hopes someone, anyone, would notice what was happening and help me. 

Unfortunately neither suicide attempt changed that apathetic environment I was living in. My mother’s response to my suicidal actions was one of annoyance. She was irritated that I bothered her. So her mantra of “don’t bother me” continued. Fortunately, neither of my suicide attempts were successful.

I tell this story, not for sympathy, but to let you and others know what I think could be behind many young people’s suicide attempts. It is possible that, like me, they really do not want to die, but could be desperately wanting someone to see their pain and help them. Noticing the signs of pain and depression early on can help parents, teachers, and others to reach out to those young people before it becomes a life and death situation. Maybe in our ongoing attempts at suicide prevention we keep in mind that helping these suffering kids, in fact all kids, to be heard and acknowledged can be an important first step.

I am glad I failed at suicide. I am glad I held on for one more day. Life did not get much better for me as a child, but life did get better. I was able to eventually break the chains of violence and abuse. I found people who would help me because I hung on, and hung on, and hung on. My hope in telling this story is that others who are in bad situations will hold on, hold on for one more day. For one more week. For one more month. For one more year.  Hold on until they too can say

Failed at Suicide, Thank Goodness.

Change, Grow, Evolve