The "S" Word

We held a communion service today. Paul says not to take of the bread and cup in an unworthy manner, so communion always causes me a lot of anxiety because I have no idea where I am. Today I sensed I should participate (and then I was told to participate). Still, it was a time of instability for me. I approached, and as I dipped the bread in the juice the chalice bearer quietly declared something along the lines of, "The blood of Christ, shed to show His great, great love for you, Michelle." This was the hardest thing that I need to hear most, and I returned to my seat crying. The emotional stress allowed the thought, "I want to die." My one hope or goal for this weekend was no suicidal thoughts, so this brought a flood of tears, frustration and despair.

One night she shared that the word "suicidal" has been descriptive of her for the last couple years. She has imagined her death and considered how it could be accomplished. What has kept her from acting on it is fear that she would not be remembered and therefore her life has been insignificant, and the knowledge of the pain that this would cause her friends.

This isn't the first time. This isn't the worst time. It tends to happen to me more, and more strongly, when I'm on trips. (That's why I articulated that goal for this trip.) My first choir tour was the worst. I was at the end of a relationship gone bad, finishing a difficult semester, part of a ministry where I didn't feel valued, and in an utterly unhealthy place. I sat on the bus day after day feeling utterly ill emotionally while the thoughts rolled over me like waves that I was defenseless against. At one point I articulated it, though it was hard to choke out, "Every day I want to die."
My last trip to Montreal was pretty bad too. I faced discouragements and insensitivities, and when I cried I found that tears would be accompanied by thoughts that welcomed death. This happened on half the days of the trip, and to be honest it scared me.

She told us about an amazing sense of peace and joy and desire for life God had granted her, and she explained this in the context that she usually feels a bit suicidal, not enjoying life. At the time, I couldn't imagine what it would be like to live that way. (That has changed.)

I have noticed that my default response to stress and conflict is a desire to escape, and death would be the ultimate escape. A wish for death would come almost automatically as a response to situations I didn't want to be in. Everything seemed so awful, and fixing everything that is wrong just seemed too impossible.

Thankfully, for me it has only ever gone as far as thoughts. I have never planned anything, never carried anything out. I think I've always been able to say that although I'm experiencing these thoughts, I won't act on them. I have hope that I never will.

She has attempted suicide seven times. Long ago, in her former life, but still a part of her story. She told me that through all the suicidal thoughts, her rational intention was never to end her life, but the pain just became too much to bear. Now she says she's concerned about me...

I used to have an anti-suicide plan. Years ago, when I acknowledged my depression but had only seen suicidal feelings as a possibility on the horizon. The plan was, if I ever "became suicidal", to call up one of the friends I worked with, guys whose lives I valued, and take them with me to see an out-of-town friend - someone who was wise and strong enough to handle my unwellness and who would pray with me and let me cry. Someone I wasn't afraid to burden.

That plan is a thing of the past rather than the present. For one thing, I'm not in touch with any of those people anymore. And I've realized that I wasn't very clear on when I would put that plan into action - at the first thought or at the first attempt? Plus, I've been able to see more clearly what a gigantic burden that would be to place on someone, and I've had doubts about whether my plan would actually fix anything.

As a child, every night she would cry herself to sleep asking God to take her life.

I hate it that the word "suicidal" covers such a broad range of meanings, from fighting occational "I want to die" thoughts, to carrying out a plan to end one's life. I don't think they all belong in the same category at all, and if I could change our vocabulary to include a scale of terms I would. I think the word tends to connote the more extreme end (since the noun "suicide" refers to the completed act), and to me it seems to imply "reckless" as well. Then when the term "suicidal" is used to discuss the more mild end of the spectrum, it carries more weight and fear than is necessary.

(Although, as I adamantly declare that thoughts of death are way less concerning than suicide attempts, I wonder if I am deceiving myself. Maybe they are classed together because one leads to the other... That hasn't been my experience... yet... and there are countless others would never do anything about their suicidal feelings, but I can't deny that for some people wishes for death are merely a preview of actions. Darn. Am I just being naive? Or is it hopeful?)

He was silent while I spoke at dinner, and later I told him I hoped I hadn't made him uncomfortable. He said no (and actually he was hoping his presence hadn't made me uncomfortable), and he added that the topic is something he can relate to.

My suggestion when I spoke in chapel was to tell someone about suicidal thoughts and feelings. I had once found that helpful - when I was on choir tour, my boyfriend-at-the-time made me tell him. That was the last thing I wanted to do, and I absolutely hated putting it into words. But after I told him (even though his response wasn't particularily helpful), I found that this torrent of thoughts lessened and largely went away.

But... since then, I haven't really taken my own advice. I know what a huge burden it would be to place on people, and I can't be oblivious to what their experience of this conversation would be. I don't know what I would expect people to do or say, and I'm not sure I would want their attempts at intervention. Even when I would want to tell someone, I don't know how to bring it up. "How are you today?" "Oh, suicidal, how 'bout you?"

He slept with a noose under his bed for six months.

Over the summer I had a strange revelation that has actually helped a lot. I realized that although I don't like my life, what I want is not death but oblivion. I don't particularly want to die, I just don't want to be anymore. Death isn't the end, it's the beginning of a whole new afterlife, something that holds a lot of uncertainty for me. I reminded myself of people like Job, who wished that they had never been born. And this reminded me of the director's cut of The Butterfly Effect, where Evan ends his life as he is being born to prevent future disaster and causes his mother such grief. I am sure that my birth and life have brought my Mom joy. Anyway, knowing that I don't actually want to die meant that I could truthfully answer those "I want to die" thoughts with, "No, actually I don't." That really helped, and I think it's a big part of what made these suicidal thoughts more rare lately.

His son committed suicide. He still mourns. That pain is what brought him to Christ.

I've come to the place where I am willing to identify myself as someone who has a problem with depression, and I'm not afraid to say that. But admitting that I have struggled with suicidal thoughts really scares and discomforts me. Right now I seem to be doing well on this front (excluding this morning), but I imagine this isn't the end of this struggle.

It's hard to post this. It's hard for you to know this about me. And I'm not sure if putting this up is the dumbest thing I've ever done.

Can I ask a favor? Don't be filled with worry for me. Like I just said, lately suicidal thoughts have been a surprising rarity and I don't think I would currently be described as "suicidal" in any way. I promise not to kill myself, and if everything gets worse, I promise to seek whatever help I need before it comes to that.

Now you know my secret...