One Toke Over the Line, Sweet Jesus

Perhaps my long stint as a volunteer for a crisis/suicide hotline has left me biased, but I have to say that most people aren't very skilled at talking their fellow human beings down from the ledge. During my ongoing stint with "suicidal ideation," I've had the opportunity to talk to several well-meaning friends who very much want to help me, but just end up making me more depressed. Today, for instance, I was talking to a friend over lunch about my depression and my suicidal thoughts, and she fired off several tactics which she seemed sure would cure me in five minutes. I decided to start categorizing them and list them here, to help others who find themselves chatting with a friend who's holding a full bottle of Vicodin. Here are the most common reactions to the admission of suicidal thoughts, and I'd like to advise my readers to avoid them at all costs, because they don't help. AT ALL.

1. "You're so great." No. Guess what? I'm not great. Or I may be great, but I don't realize it, and hearing you tell me that isn't going to help. Why not? Because people who are suicidal despise themselves so much that compliments nauseate us. We start looking at you like you have something wrong with you for liking us. Suicidal people have so completely convinced themselves of their worthlessness that they've got a ready counterargument for anything nice you might have to say. So don't waste your time.

2. "Suicide is the cowardly way out." Suicidal people are suicidal precisely because they think there is NO OTHER WAY OUT. There's not a choice between cowardly and brave. And I can't believe I have to say this, but insulting anyone at the end of his/her mental rope is not the way to win them back to the side of life. And on that note, don't say:

3. "Suicide is so selfish." Thanks. Not only do I hate myself and want to die, now I'm selfish, too. Take your tough love and shove it up your mentally stable ass.

4. "So what's causing this?" I know this is a really tempting question to ask, but try to avoid phrasing it in this way. Most people considering suicide, unless it's during the heat of passion (fight, breakup, whatever), have a lot of things wrong over a long period of time, some of which they understand and some of which they don't. They don't want a friend to try and figure out a singular cause and then talk them out of it. "Oh, so, you have low-self esteem? Well, you should exercise, that really boosts my confidence!" Deep, long-lasting depression can have many causes, or even none at all. You're not going to get to the bottom of it, at least not at that exact moment. You don't need to become an amateur therapist to help a friend. Getting them to go a professional is a good idea, but don't practice your freshman psychology 101 right now.

5. "Well, I would miss you very much and be sad if you were to die." No, you're not going to guilt me out of suicide. I know you'd be better off without me, even if you don't know it yet. It's a really sweet thing to say; I'm just telling you it's the wrong thing.

6. My favorite response: "You're just doing this to get attention." Ah, there's the way to go. Challenge the suicidal person to PROVE YOU WRONG by going through with it. What are people thinking?! I've always felt horrible anytime I've felt myself slipping to the Dark Side and had to talk to someone about it. I know that it worries them and ruins their night. I hate feeling like I need people to take care of me. I don't want anyone to know that I'm insane. So don't tell me that I crave attention when I work every moment of every day to pretend that nothing's wrong.

Not included on this list but worth mentioning are responses like Jeff's last night: "(Hugh sigh) Look, if you say that, I'll have to call the police, and then they'll come over and then I won't talk to you for a long time and all of your friends will hate you." Thaaaanks. Then he reiterated that he didn't want to see me or speak to me for six months. And here I thought we couldn't sink any lower than the night he told me hated me, called me a bitch, and then hit me as hard as he could in the side of the head. There's always a new low!

That's the other thing about suicide. Everyone always tells you that things have to get better eventually. But we all know that's not true. You may well find that things get worse and worse until the day you die. There's no way of knowing the depths to which you will plunge.

I have had personal and professional relationships with suicidal people. I have bandaged up arms and held heads over toilets. I've listened to people on the crisis line phone who were one step away from jumping off the roof. I have studied the phenomenon of suicide extensively, and have trained many people on how to deal with suicidal callers. I personally have dealt with suicidal feelings most of my life, and I'm dealing with it now more intensely than ever before. So even as a person who is completely out of mental balance, I can tell you this with complete confidence: the only, and I mean ONLY, way to handle a suicidal person is to get THEM to talk.

That's what's really wrong with all of the responses I listed above. It can't be about you. Don't dispense advice, don't play therapist, don't be a cheerleader, don't guilt or shame or belittle or scorn. Just LISTEN. And why does this seem to be such an uncommon response? Because it's next to impossible to get a severly depressed person to talk about him/herself. I've had to sit on the phone for HOURS listening to almost nothing but silence and occasional sobs. But eventually, as you build trust and assure the poor nutcase that you're not going anywhere and you really do care, he will open up to you.

And then what, you ask? Nothing. The problem will not be solved. You will not end the conversation with a sigh of relief that you fixed everything. But you will have made a connection, and that connection to another human being is just what a suicidal person needs to feel. You cannot rescue them, you cannot be their reason for living, and you cannot sacrifice your own sanity to help them regain theirs. But you can listen. It's free and easy and it could save someone's life.

I guess what I want to impart to the two people that still read this blog is this: you cannot reason with a suicidal person. Suicidal people are constantly convincing themselves of things that they know are not really true. Sure, I know that I have people in my life who love me, but when I get really bad, I promise you that I believe everyone I've ever met despises me. Telling me that's not true is not going to work, because I either can't or don't want to believe the truth. You're not going to knock any sense into me, you're not going to snap me out of it. And you're sure as hell not going to figure out ways for me to feel better about my life. People do not commit suicide because bad things are happening to them; they commit suicide because they cannot cope with the bad things that are happening to them. I know the difference is subtle, but it's incredibly important.

Alright, I'm spent. And please don't send me panicked emails; if I get to the point of no return, I'll let you know. I'm alive, and I'm not going anywhere tonight.

Lords and Ladies

I've heard that with other people, she gets inside of you and knocks you out immediately. But I'm special. My lover Ambien seduces me slowly, making the world shimmer and shine before she finally drags me to bed. She makes the world around me breathe along with my own rhythms. She holds me in strong, black arms, as long as I want her to, all night long, and sometimes she sings me to sleep, her tiny voice in my ear.

But I like fucking men, too, as some of you know, and some of you quite personally. That's where my studly Provigil takes over as my willowy Ambien drifts off into the morning's shadows. Provigil is steadfast and true; he carries me around all day, my eyes bright, my spine straight and erect, pressed against his wide, strong chest. They are never jealous of one another, my two lovers, and for that I love them even more.

I have pills to sleep, pills to wake up, pills to dull pain. Pills to keep me from infections, pills to keep my bones from rotting away, pills to keep my mind from believing things it shouldn't, pills to keep my body from decaying within. I have needles, and vials in the fridge, and creams for every occasion.

I could throw them all away now, or I could take them all at once. What do you think? A wise man once said you shouldn't kill yourself because you want to die, you should kill yourself because you're dead already.

I can't figure it out. And Ambien wants me to stop thinking and come to bed. Mmmm...good night.