In Cherished79’s excellent account of one of her suicide attempts (http://cherished79.wordpress.com/2007/07/05/suicide-the-taboo-word/), she told us her thoughts after an aborted suicide attempt: “I am berating myself. You are such a loser, can’t even get this right, why did you have to call [9-1-1], back to square one again, you had the chance, you blew it, another disappointment, a huge loser.” I thought very nearly the same thing after each of my failed or aborted suicide attempts. Not so much failure on the intervened attempts, but definitely a certain sense of loss; someone stole what was mine and now I’m trapped in hell.
“Why did I call 9-1-1?” Waking up in the hospital with charcoal stains all over my clothes, tubes sticking into me and wires of various kinds stuck to my skin, the only thing I could do was shake my head and curse myself for being such a coward. Not a coward for attempting to OD, but a coward for calling for help. TDHP will invariably say, “See, that proves the `suicide attempt’ was just a cry for help.” No, it doesn’t! It only proves that in a moment of weakness during a long night of empowerment, I failed myself. Alternatively, it was a last moment of clarity in a long night of despair. Poe-tay-toe, poe-tah-toe.
The lesson hear is that people who try to kill themselves, really do want to kill themselves. It is incredibly embarassing when they don’t succeed. So please don’t pour salt on the wound by being angry with us or, even worse, belittling us. Afterwards,we may honestly say we are relieved to still be alive, but we are just as honest when we say we wanted to die. Don’t belittle the patient in your life by saying they didn’t really try to kill themselves, that it was just a cry for help.
“F&*% you! I’ll show you it wasn’t just a cry for help just as soon as I get out of here! And next time, I’m going to do it right.”
2 responses so far ↓
cherished79 // 27 July 2007 at 5:34 pm
I remember the nurse peering down on me after one of my attempts, and as you say with the charcoal stains, asking “aren’t you glad we caught you in time”. NO, not really, and I literally began to sob. She was aghast, looking at me as if I was ungrateful. It wasn’t she who had to return to a hospital room and trudge through mud once again for yet another day and another day – more endless days. She got to go home to whatever or whomever with perhaps a smile on her face and could enjoy her life.
The pdocs are just as bad; asking me why did I ‘let it go this far’. Huh? Such a question. A stupid question. They have no idea of this whole suicide ‘thing’, would never even know what is feels like to walk on a sort of tightrope, praying it will give way and you will fall. Textbook stuff is what they learn – writings on pages.
People don’t understand us, and don’t want to listen and understand us. Who would want to. Who wants to listen to someone dwell on ending their life. So for now, I am sounding off in my (your) blog for all to hear. Thank you.
ideas2words // 27 July 2007 at 5:53 pm
They get to go home smiling, smug in the knowledge that they saved yet another lost sole. But, they didn’t save the soul, only the body that housed it before the dark days came.