The Truth About Suicide that No One is Telling You

From 5/11/ 16 The secret:  Some people take pleasure in pouring salt into wounds that they know are there. Wounds that they have been traine...

From 5/11/ 16

The secret: Some people take pleasure in pouring salt into wounds that they know are there. Wounds that they have been trained to repair and heal. -Tonya GJ Prince

On suicide awareness days it isn’t always the person suffering that we need to address.

Not everyone is compassionate.  

Not everyone is compassionate every day.

I tell this story because not everyone survives to tell their story. 

They are gone now and you don't know that they reached out for help. 

Only, "help" failed them that day.

Circa mid-1990s

I'll never forget the day that I asked someone to drop me off at a hospital.

Saving Tonya

It was where I was seeing a psychologist for a long history of child sexual abuse. 

For those who don’t know, when you get treatment for trauma of this type you can feel worse long before you ever feel better.

I had made a contract with my psychologist, I'll call Dr. Brown.   

I agreed that anytime I felt as if I wanted to hurt myself, I would reach out for help. 

This is a good thing. 

It keeps people who are in a temporary state of pain from reacting in the moment.  You just want this collection of dull, stabbing, throbbing, pinching, itching, and slicing pain to stop. 

When it gets to that point, it feels like all of the evils of life are beating up on you at once. 

You believe that suicide will end it once and for all.  You believe that it is the only cure for the pain.

But the agreement reminds you to check in with your rational mind for just a little while. 

Hang on until help arrives. 

The Contract

I kept my end of the bargain. 

I called the hospital.  I talked to a pleasant voice there.  Dr. Brown was well known.  She was a professor and well-respected among her peers.

The pleasant voice told me to come in right away and bring a bag with me. I might be staying.

I had been in counseling since my teens.  But Dr. Brown was locating pain I didn't even know I was carrying. I was in crisis. 

Through tears, I just grabbed some clothes and threw them in a trash bag.

Why would I need luggage?  Luggage is for travelers who plan to return.  I didn’t want to live another day with this intense degree of pain. I was going one way. 

I wasn’t playing around.

Fast forward

In a room.  A psychiatrist on duty comes in.  One of their best. They say.

He is no short of horrible.

Because I have my clothes in a trash bag, he is certain that I am a homeless young person attempting to stay and gain entry in their hospital. Like I'm trying to swindle my way into his five-star hotel. 

He is so cruel. 
He is so demeaning. 
He is so angry. 

Wait. Wait. Wait?
He is a psychiatrist?

I kept checking his badge to make sure.

I tearfully explain that Dr. Brown is my psychologist that I see weekly for issues with child sexual abuse.  
I’m in college.  
I’m an A student. Really.  
I’m a single mother. (Save that for last. Stereotypes, you know.)

He knows Dr. Brown. 
They are colleagues. 
He says, "Yes, she is very good." Sternly.
You're not feeling better?"  Accusingly. Suspiciously. 

 (He is accusing ME now. What is MY problem?)


"Not yet" ..... I try to explain.  

"It takes time." (Now, I'm trying to remind him of what the healing folks have been trying to convince me to believe. "You will not always feel this way. It takes time.")

But then I stopped. 

He is a psychiatrist. 

He knows this. 

Healing takes time. 

That is what..... he should be telling me.
He was toying with me. 
And now, we both knew it. 

But I’ve seen that look on his face... before, then, and since.

No matter what I say......  
I am young.  

I am a woman.
I am black. 
I am not yet wise. 
I don’t have access to the financial resources that he may have. 
I am black.

Between one moment and the next something changes, inside of me. 
At first, it scares me.
But I embrace it before the next second hits. 

 See, now I don’t want to kill myself.  
I am angry.  
I am in a storm cloud of rage. 

Yessssssssss. 
This emotion I know. 
 It doesn’t frighten me.

I’ve been here before. 
A lot. 

I yelled. 
I screamed.  
I made threats......   
That I intended to keep.  
The female nurse who was in the room with us moved closer to the door. 

Oh, I knew not to make threats to hurt myself or anyone else.  
Those threats could get me tackled and shackled.  
One doesn’t do that in a hospital setting.

Oh, but there are so many other words that one can use when someone f%(* with you at just the right time, you know.

I ordered him to get away from me. Told him that he was making me uncomfortable. This couldn't be good for me. 

Dr. "Tacky" claimed that he wasn’t leaving the room.
 Of course, he did.  
I was damn near hysterical.
 

They both walked out of the room. Backwards. 
I never saw him again. 
About 30 minutes later maybe ...he sent the nurse in with discharge instructions.
Coward! (probably standard practice but that is how I saw it.)

That could have ended horribly for me for ALL the reasons that I stated and then some. 

All I can say is, BUT GOD.

Self Advocacy
Before leaving the hospital, I contacted a patient advocate to report him.  
She wrote nothing down.  
She just looked at me with a blank look.

I processed it with Dr. Brown days later and decided to focus on my own healing.  
But I hate that people who are in a temporary state of brokenness still encounter Dr. Tacky during their time of need. 

God help them.

We will never know how many people we have lost who found themselves in a state of pain and lost that battle when they encountered folks like these. Suicide isn’t one day.  

Suicide can be a season. A long episodic season with bright spots and laughter in between.   

Many people who die of suicide talk of it often.  Many people who die of suicide previously attempted it often.  Thank God in Heaven my season is over.

But during my season, I encountered quite a few people who were not kind, compassionate, consistently patient, or skilled.... across various demographics. 

When it comes to life and death crises like suicide, at least send in your best. Send in your most humane. Every single time. 

The secret: Some people take pleasure in pouring salt into wounds that they know are there. Wounds that they have been trained to repair and heal. -Tonya GJ Prince

READER DISCUSSION

What are we going to do about that? 

Readers, have you had bad experiences when you reached out for help?  

How can we make certain that all people who need help get the quality of care that they need?

Mirror Reflections: How What We Don't Know About Suicide is Killing People | WE Survive Abuse

 

Emotional and physical pain is excruciating and often hard to describe to others.  

AND, you will be amazed at how many laughs, joys, and fantastic days you could miss out on if you give in to pain and .....

Start again. 

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