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Suicide
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An old friend of mine committed suicide a couple of days ago and last night I sat in bed thinking about it. The how could anyone or what could be that bad etc. I mean he was in a lot of debt but hey do what lots of people do go bankrupt, but also the way in which he died, I mean yer at some point in life we're all going to die and someone has to find us, but he hung himself from goalposts on a playing field, why?? Not only would it be possible some stranger found him and be haunted for life but even more possible a child. I find it disgusting and it makes me angry but sad at the same time. I have lost 4 friends now through suicide, 3 hangings and one overdose. Is there any nice way to go?
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Fristly commiserations for your loss.
I have to declare an interest here for two reasons - one is my experience of three years as a Samartian, when I gained an 'intellectual' understanding of the concept of suicide, and the second is a total mental brteakdown which I suffered nineteen years ago, i was in a psychiatric for three mohths, and off work for a year, and i gained a 'oersonal' insight into suicide.
Let's dispel a few common myths here -
suicide is not 'brave' or 'cowardly' or 'thoughtless. It is the act of killing the pain. The suicide has reached a point where living for sixty more seconds is more than they can stand, and death becomes a welcome release, a pleasant alternative, a final chance to hit back once and for all at the torment that obssesses the mind.
The notion of appealing for help - of concern for anyone finding the body - of loved ones left to grieve - all these are rational notions, and the suicide has left these concepte behind a long time ago. The only, the ONLY thing that fills the suicide's mind is pain, unbearable emotional torment, so concepts such as rational thought have long sincec left the building.
Know that there was nothing you could do. Your friend was beyond talking, reaching out, thinking, feeling, loving, and finally living.
It is not something you can rationalise, it is what it is, the end to suffering.
For those left behind, feelings of regret, grief, anger sorrow, frustation, love, hate - these are all the ways in which the rationa mind assimilates loss and grief, but try not to blame the suicide. He did what he had to do to end his suffering, and is finally at peace.
Again my sympathy, but remember, you have the ability to think through what happened and why - something your friend lost way before he finally died.
Be patient, be thoughtful, be positive. Live.
I have to declare an interest here for two reasons - one is my experience of three years as a Samartian, when I gained an 'intellectual' understanding of the concept of suicide, and the second is a total mental brteakdown which I suffered nineteen years ago, i was in a psychiatric for three mohths, and off work for a year, and i gained a 'oersonal' insight into suicide.
Let's dispel a few common myths here -
suicide is not 'brave' or 'cowardly' or 'thoughtless. It is the act of killing the pain. The suicide has reached a point where living for sixty more seconds is more than they can stand, and death becomes a welcome release, a pleasant alternative, a final chance to hit back once and for all at the torment that obssesses the mind.
The notion of appealing for help - of concern for anyone finding the body - of loved ones left to grieve - all these are rational notions, and the suicide has left these concepte behind a long time ago. The only, the ONLY thing that fills the suicide's mind is pain, unbearable emotional torment, so concepts such as rational thought have long sincec left the building.
Know that there was nothing you could do. Your friend was beyond talking, reaching out, thinking, feeling, loving, and finally living.
It is not something you can rationalise, it is what it is, the end to suffering.
For those left behind, feelings of regret, grief, anger sorrow, frustation, love, hate - these are all the ways in which the rationa mind assimilates loss and grief, but try not to blame the suicide. He did what he had to do to end his suffering, and is finally at peace.
Again my sympathy, but remember, you have the ability to think through what happened and why - something your friend lost way before he finally died.
Be patient, be thoughtful, be positive. Live.
andy what i fail to understand is how my old friend was laughing and joking with me and other people afterwards, left the pub waving to us still happy and smilling went home and put a rope round his neck. this person had loads of friends was well liked played darts,pool etc never complained about anything.
Hi forgetmenot - thanks for your kind words.
I got through it by sheer effort of will and mental strength. I did spend every minute of every day thinking about how to escape the dreadful anguish that would not leave me in peace. The hospital I was in was one of the old-fashioned 'asylum' hospitals - the word means a place of safety, and the Victorians had exactly the right idea. The hospital was in massive grounds, where patients could walk and think, as long as they returned for meals and bedtimes. As a 'non-threatening' patient, I was allowed out of the grounds to walk to the local village, but that was down a main road populated by speeding articulated lorries, and many was the time i was rfeady to step out and stop it all. Of course, no thought for the poor driver - my mind simply no longer externalised any more. I had to be reminded to eat - my weight fropped to under nine-stone, and I'm five foot ten, so they were getting worried!
I made my self survive, I made myself get strategies in place to live the rest of my life. I still have occasional dips, some bad enough to put me off work for a month, and I have daily medication.
I understand and feel for anyone who didn't make it out of the darkness, I am fortunate to have the mind I have, but i almost didn;t get through, even with a loving family and a new baby daughter, whom I disowned during that time - a measure of how ill I was.
I am here, I take my good days gratefully, I suffer my bad ones and get past them, but the final aspect of life that has changed fundamentally for ever is - I never judge anyone for anything, ever.
I got through it by sheer effort of will and mental strength. I did spend every minute of every day thinking about how to escape the dreadful anguish that would not leave me in peace. The hospital I was in was one of the old-fashioned 'asylum' hospitals - the word means a place of safety, and the Victorians had exactly the right idea. The hospital was in massive grounds, where patients could walk and think, as long as they returned for meals and bedtimes. As a 'non-threatening' patient, I was allowed out of the grounds to walk to the local village, but that was down a main road populated by speeding articulated lorries, and many was the time i was rfeady to step out and stop it all. Of course, no thought for the poor driver - my mind simply no longer externalised any more. I had to be reminded to eat - my weight fropped to under nine-stone, and I'm five foot ten, so they were getting worried!
I made my self survive, I made myself get strategies in place to live the rest of my life. I still have occasional dips, some bad enough to put me off work for a month, and I have daily medication.
I understand and feel for anyone who didn't make it out of the darkness, I am fortunate to have the mind I have, but i almost didn;t get through, even with a loving family and a new baby daughter, whom I disowned during that time - a measure of how ill I was.
I am here, I take my good days gratefully, I suffer my bad ones and get past them, but the final aspect of life that has changed fundamentally for ever is - I never judge anyone for anything, ever.
DrFilth - i fully understand your confusion.
Depression (the illness not feeling 'depressed'0 is a cunning beast. It creates a mask of 'normality' behind which the sufferer peers out into a hostile world. Looking sad invites concern and enquiry, both of which are hateful and unwanted, so appearing happy and cheerful means the suffere can suffer in peace.
Of course, behind the mask, the despair deepends and corrodes the will to live, but the mask never slips - it becomes a reflex action - in place to the very end.
Smile in public, weep in private, suffer alone.
Grim isn't it? Hope my responses help.
Best always to all on this thread.
A.
Depression (the illness not feeling 'depressed'0 is a cunning beast. It creates a mask of 'normality' behind which the sufferer peers out into a hostile world. Looking sad invites concern and enquiry, both of which are hateful and unwanted, so appearing happy and cheerful means the suffere can suffer in peace.
Of course, behind the mask, the despair deepends and corrodes the will to live, but the mask never slips - it becomes a reflex action - in place to the very end.
Smile in public, weep in private, suffer alone.
Grim isn't it? Hope my responses help.
Best always to all on this thread.
A.
Andy
What a perfect description of true depression. Once I started to get back to some sort of normality after being ill for a year, lots of people comented that they had no idea I was so ill because I hid it so well. As you rightly say, all the weeping is done in private so that well-meaning people leave you alone.
What a perfect description of true depression. Once I started to get back to some sort of normality after being ill for a year, lots of people comented that they had no idea I was so ill because I hid it so well. As you rightly say, all the weeping is done in private so that well-meaning people leave you alone.
I very much feel for you but suicide is often the only way people can see an end to their problems. I have tried once but a very odd set of circumstances stopped me (long story!), however I think about it a lot and feel that it is my choice if I want to call it a day. It is by no means an easy way out and involces a great deal of soul searching. Admittedly it is unfair on the person who finds you and for those left behind but that person obviously wanted to end their lives so it should be respected.
My Mam and Dad were having an extension built and one night the builder called round and asked my Mam for the rest of the money, she gave him �2,000 because it was mostly built and he seemed fine. The next night he hung himself in his apartment. I can't understand why he wanted the money if he was going to kill himself. The worst part was that when the guards found him he had cuts all over his neck and blood on his fingertips like he changed his mind or something but it was too late.
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