Spider Robinson, one of my favourite authors, posits that:
Shared pain is lessened, shared joy is increased.
I tend to believe this. With that in mind, I’m posting this blog entry. It’s not about sharing joy, it’s about sharing pain. Please do not read further if you’re not in the mood for something heavy.
Disclaimer: This blog entry is not about me. It really is about a friend of mine. I have felt down in the past, and will probably feel down in the future, but I’m not down now. This isn’t about me other than the fact that I need a bit of support / advice in supporting my friend.
So, I think a friend of mine is suicidal. Let’s call him Pete for narrative simplicity. He’s going through a rough patch. I’m trying to be there for him, but it’s difficult. He’s an old friend from high school who’s moved to the Maritimes. I mainly talk to him over the phone and on IM. His SO broke up with him a couple of months ago. His main outlet, sports, is unavailable to him since he got injured playing hockey (damn Canadians). He’s underemployed, and unhappy at his job.
The good news (if there is such a thing) is that Pete’s currently only in the plotting stage. He has a life insurance policy with, essentially, a suicide rider. He’s waiting for it to mature in ½ a year in so he can provide for some of his loved ones. The bad news is that I’m pretty much the only person that Pete talks to. He’s always been a bit of an introvert, and in the breakup, his ex got most of the friends.
I’ve tried to convince him to see someone, but he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want anything on his record. Doesn’t want to have to take meds. I’ve suggested that he doesn’t actually have to take any meds they tell him to take, but that didn’t compute for some reason. I’ve suggested calling a suicide hotline. He doesn’t want to. Doesn’t see what good it’ll do.
At the insightful suggestion of a friend, I called the suicide hotline today, hoping to figure out what I could say to Pete. The good news: they told me I was doing a good job. Listening. Being there for him. The bad news: they didn’t have many suggestions on what more I could do. I could talk to him about the finality of his actions. I could ask him about what it would be like when it happened to drive home said finality. I’m also not to feel responsible no matter what happens. Apparently, I can’t fix everything, as much as I’d like to.
Aside: the first two times I called, I got a message saying that all Samaritans (their term) were busy and to call back later. If it was a medical emergency, call 911. If it was urgent, call another number. Darkly amusing somehow. Made me think about volunteering. Then got me to wondering about the technology behind these call centres. I wonder if people actually have to go into an office of some sort, or if they can volunteer from home. If the former, I wonder if some sort of VOIP network could be set up to allow people to stay at home, and attract more volunteers.
Things Pete says that scare me:
- I have nothing worth living for.
- The only respite I get from life is sometimes when I’m asleep, and only sometimes…. (he’s been having nightmares)
- I’ve still got another half year before my life insurance will pay out if I kill myself. You’re stuck with me for that long.
- I’m tired, my life is meaningless. There’s nothing I can do with it, it’s a hopeless situation.
- I don’t need help. The only thing that’s wrong with me is that I’ve fucked up my life beyond repair, and there’s no hope for it ever getting better.
- Everything that might have mattered is gone.
- I’ve screwed [my life] up beyond fixing.
- Everything good in my life is in the past.
- I don’t belong anywhere. All I have are a number of superficial acquaintances with little to no emotional value.
- Time to face the music, no one likes me, I’m unlikeable. When was the last time anyone else decided I was interesting and went out of their way to try to be my friend?
- Try my best to fix [my life]? It takes everything I have just to get by day to day. I come home with no energy or desire to do anything but sit and veg. Well, except for sports, and I’m too injured and usually too tired as well to do that. There’s nothing left for me. Just years and years of working a job I don’t like and being alone. There’s nothing left to build for. Your friend here is gone, all that’s left is an empty shell, there’s nothing left for you here. Really and truly….whatever happiness or optimism you once saw in me is gone.
- There’s nothing left for me. Not now, not ever. There’s no point. I don’t want to live like this. I’m better off dead. Just have to keep going long enough to leave my loved ones with something. Nick, give up on me already. I’m being selfish demanding that you spend all this time talking to me.
So, dear readers, what do I do?
Ugh, I somewhat know what you are going through. Keep doing what you are doing. Keep trying to get him to get professional help, and remind him you care. But yes, you can’t fix it and can’t take the responsibility upon yourself.
this might help you talk to him
http://www.salon.com/mwt/col/tenn/2006/03/06/suicide/index.html
There are people he cares about enough to wait six months so that his life insurance will work. They of course care about him, and would rather have a living Pete than the money. And he cares about them.
He doesn’t want to take meds, but if he tries the meds and doesn’t like them, he can always kill himself later, while if he tries killing himself first, he doesn’t have the option of trying meds.
These are arguments that would carry some weight with a rational person. The problem is that Pete isn’t a rational person; he’s someone suffering from serious depression. This means his brain isn’t working properly, so he can’t make good decisions.
A good friend of mine once attempted suicide, and then started taking meds. The meds took three weeks to take effect, and she attempted suicide again a week or two after starting the meds. The frame of mind you’d have to be in to think “well, this might fix things in two more weeks, but I can’t wait that long; I’ll just kill myself now” is so alien to me as to be incomprehensible. It’s hard to figure out what to say to someone in that extreme a frame of mind.
If Pete would find it useful to talk to someone who used to be suicidal, and is better now, my friend would be happy to talk to him. Or more accurately, if you could persuade Pete to try talking to a friend of a friend who has gone through something like what he’s going through.
Another interesting note: He doesn’t want to see anyone, because he doesn’t want it on his record… why would he care about that if he wants to kill himself anyway? Maybe mentioning this, and wantign to take care of loved ones, and that taking drugs wouldn’t matter if you didn’t want to live anyway, would help him to realise that he does care enough about life to not actually kill himself and he can spend the engergy on getting help and getting better.
what’s with the record phobia? he doesn’t want to do anything final for another 6mos, so what’s he got to lose? get him to think he’s going to give the doctors/shrinks a professional challenge, and if that form of sadistic entertainment doesn’t appeal to him, tell him at least to get his money’s worth from all the damn taxes we pay here.
[...] I’ve been loathe to post of late because all the random traffic through my brain and life seem inconsequential when compared to other people’s issues. [...]
[...] Follow up on the Sharing post. [...]