Dear Family and Friends of Suicide Attempt Survivors,
Let me say most importantly and right away that my heart goes out to you completely and utterly. You and the survivors are struggling with this awful tempest that has ripped away much of what you thought was true, radically altering everything you took for granted as secure and normal.
You’re grappling with every hard emotion there is, and I have complete empathy for you as you navigate these new stormy waters. When ill weather hits, a lot of the time we feel like snowflakes blowing alone in the winds of change.
We’re much tougher than we think, though, and we seldom realize it until we have to be. I’m here to remind you of that.
I’d never presume to try to stand in your shoes, but my training, education and practical experience in the mental health field working with a varied clientele equip me to help you understand the commonalities shared by those having similar experiences.
The darkness right now probably feels like it will never lift. Night sure looks that way when you’re in the thick of it. But a process by definition is temporary. You’re not at a fixed point, you’re embarking on a journey together.
It’s one you didn’t want, and wouldn’t wish on anyone, but it can take you to a more hopeful, settled place than you’re in now.
That’s the first real point of light. This cloud will not last. This too shall pass.
The second truly encouraging fact is that you aren’t alone. You’re an individual, yes, to be treated with the respect any singular human being deserves, but that doesn’t mean you’re qualified or well served to try to take this on by yourself. See suicide prevention resources.
The help and guidance I pointed out are available right now, from a variety of sources and agencies, and a host of support networks beyond your own. They produce real results; dedicated caring staff will reassure you that the emotions of those facing trauma like yours are nearly universal. (More on that shortly. )
So that’s the second ray of hope. There’s community. Don’t suffer alone unnecessarily. It does you zero good, either as a supporter or as the one recovering from an attempt.
It takes a village to heal any one sufferer. That’s a comforting fact to discover when you’re in panic or despair. Let the professionals help; you do need them now. Learn to reach out when you feel alone, because you aren’t, not by a long shot. We’ll work through this gale together.
And you might wish to reflect on whether, if you do not derive comfort from others just yet, how much your loved one and others take solace from your presence in their own time of turmoil.
Helping people is one of the prime ways to combat any negative emotion or situation. You feel better doing it, and soon you’re feeling better in general. Maybe not much, but some, and that’s a lot better than being overwhelmed and stricken.
Communication is key, and you’ll need specialized assistance with that too, whether you are the one who made a suicide attempt or a loved one. It isn’t easy at the best of times, let alone now.
And now the giant shame elephant in the room stifles interaction. The person who made the attempt is usually embarrassed and remorseful. The family and friends face stigma along with a horror that they might have missed red flags they should have spotted and been more present with help and caring. (About this more soon too.)
In this emotional climate, it often seems easier to retreat into a quiet cocoon than to confront emotional issues that are still too raw to be dealt with.
But since a sense of isolation is nearly always in play in these cases already – the depressed often suffer in silence – being able to talk more readily is critical to giving meaningful support now. Stonewalling is never helpful. It just seems easier, but it creates and nurtures bigger problems the longer it lasts.
Powerful emotions must be accommodated and acknowledged as valid. Family and friends very frequently feel shock, panic, disassociation, worry, grief for the loss of the norm, anger, outrage, a sense of betrayal, hopelessness, shame and a sense of being a failure as a parent, sibling, friend or relative.
You have every right to these feelings. They are natural, even if you try to disavow them to yourself. But they can complicate fruitful dialogue enormously.
And to muddy the floodwaters even more, many of the most urgent questions you face swirl around contradictions with no apparent answers, unresolvable issues of cognitive dissonance that seem mutually exclusive, emotionally and logically.
If you’re family or a friend, how do you:
Be more watchful for worrisome signs and symptoms without being hypervigilant and radiating suspicion that inspires more secrecy?
Project strength and a firm shoulder to lean on while you feel so deeply shaken and confused?
Love and nurture them and be fullheartedly there for them as they recover while wrestling a sickening new sense of alienation bred by shock and anger and resentment and the guilt over feeling that way?
Experience simultaneously profound relief and gratitude that your cherished loved one is still with you and a heartsick sorrow that this happened?
Model confidence and faith in a better future when you know that another attempt after a first isn’t uncommon, and you don’t sleep anymore because your worst terror, wide-eyed in the dark, is that next time it’ll succeed?
And if you’re the survivor, how do you:
Perceive yourself as less isolated and more worthy of help when you’ve unleashed this heartache on everyone you care about so that remorse and shame are your new best friends?
Forgive yourself now when you never thought very highly of yourself in the first place?
Feel more hopeful about your burdens lifting when now you have all these unbearable new ones, in addition to the demons, still with you, that drove your attempt?
Open up about issues you’ve perfected not even acknowledging to yourself?
Heal in peace and quiet in the spotlight?
These are brutally difficult dilemmas that feel like oxymorons, and they have no solutions other than to agree that there aren’t any readymade answers, but working on them together, examining hard truths side by side, is a healthy first step to clearing the air, laying the foundation for more open and honest discourse in the future. Engaged, fully present conversation can be awkward, so we have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.
It reduces:
The risk of renewed suicidal ideation
Emotional dysregulation as a catalyst of feelings of overwhelm, hopelessness and impulsivity
Habitually unproductive depressive outlooks, negative expectations, low self-esteem and ingrained or obsessively critical ‘thought loops’
Anyone can prevent suicide by fostering a human connection.
Nearly impossible though it might seem, try to guard against notions of fault.
Though it’s sometimes true in retrospect that we did miss some things, the practical, everyday fact is that we can’t possibly be aware of everything we think in hindsight we should’ve noticed, among all the other daily inputs of the chaotic world that surrounds us.
Another tough truth is that ultimately, just as we can never be monitors of everything there is to see that might worry us, we can’t be held responsible for the life and death decisions others make for themselves.
That notion is an emotional anchor to carry as we seek smoother waters beyond the storm.
New learnings and insights and coping strategies yield calmer ways and lighter paths to walk together. Your bond can deepen as you explore this trauma you share. You can help each other find unexpected strengths and abilities in this challenging time.
Storms end. Harbors are found. Dawns come.
A future with authentic hope is within your grasp. I have complete faith that you have everything you need to move forward from what has most likely already been the worst part, even though you don’t know it yet or feel able.
