Need to know
‘Do you remember that scene in Avengers: Endgame? When Captain America is fighting himself?’
‘I do,’ I assured Bethany.
‘That’s how I feel every night,’ she confessed, tucking her long, blonde hair back behind her ears. ‘It feels like I am fighting myself to stay alive.’
I had been meeting with 17-year-old Bethany twice a week for the past six months to help her understand and move through her depression. Bethany was smart, pretty, a talented musician, and had a streak of sarcasm that made her funny as hell.
And Bethany couldn’t stop thinking about killing herself.
She fought herself to stay alive every day, a dichotomy so beautifully explained in her Captain America reference. (Fortunately, I was a Marvel fan myself, so this gave us an excellent platform to relate back to during the course of treatment.)
There were points during the two years I treated Bethany that it seemed as if the only things that allowed her to stay alive and put one foot in front of the other were small, time-limited goals. Little things that she could look forward to, such as the release of a new movie, or a musical performance she had spent months preparing for.
Bethany ended up in hospital once during the course of treatment. Her psychiatrist was frustrated that her medication wasn’t working, and sent her for a psychiatric consult. She was at the hospital emergency room for six hours, worrying that she was going to fail her French test the next day because she wasn’t getting a chance to study.
This should have been a sign that Bethany was not in immediate danger. But, of course, no medical or mental health professional wants to be wrong in such a situation. No one wants to end up reading about a dead teenager the following morning because they weren’t cautious enough.
How do you ask a friend or loved one if she’s thinking about killing herself? How should high-school teachers and college professors approach someone they’re concerned about?
When a patient comes to me with symptoms of depression and anxiety, by the end of the first session, I always ask about suicidality – in detail rather than merely as a formality. I allow the words they might have been frightened to hear spoken aloud to leave my mouth.
Because I am not frightened of words.
When I was growing up, my mother’s depression and suicidal ideation were never to be spoken about with outsiders. Her suicide attempts and hospitalisations were hidden for longer than should have been possible. By the time I was old enough to realise that my silence had been purchased through years of subtle, silent oppression, her anger and hostility and unpredictable nature had isolated all of us from the friends and family who should have been there to support her – and us.
This realisation, as an adult, freed my mouth to speak openly and honestly as a clinician.
‘It sounds like you’ve been feeling really awful. Have you ever had thoughts of hurting yourself, or of taking your own life?’
If the answer is even the teensiest bit of a yes, I explore it further.
‘I know we just met, and it must have been really difficult for you to tell me that. There is a huge difference between thoughts and actions. How often do you think about killing yourself? Have you ever thought of how you might do it? Have you ever made a real plan and considered following it through?’
Those last questions, a method to take one’s life – and the realistic possibility that this method might result in death – the formation of a concrete plan and the intention to act on it, are the most important pieces of information.
There is a huge difference between a person who thinks about killing himself with a gun, has easy access to a gun, and who would ‘probably do it on a Friday so that Mom didn’t have to be the one to find me’ versus someone who ‘sometimes thinks it would be easier for everyone if I was dead. I don’t know how I would do it, maybe I would just jump in front of a car, or drive into incoming traffic.’
Both are painful to hear. But one is more likely to end in suicide than the other.
Indeed, you don’t have to be a therapist to intervene and help to save a life. What most patients with suicidal thoughts actually want is to have their fears and feelings heard without judgment. Some might want to voice their secret, scary, suicidal fantasies to see if they’re shunned. To see if they are, in fact, as hopeless as they feel.
The purpose of this Guide is to help lay people listen to and support friends and loved ones throughout their depression and suicidal thoughts before professional assistance comes onboard – and during that period as well. Reach out to the people you suspect need help. At worst, your kindness is rejected. At best, your words make someone feel less alone. Your words might be the difference someone needs in order to stay alive another day.