Why You Should Ask Someone About Suicide

Ask again, I begged them in my head. Ask me again and I will tell you everything. Next time they ask I will do it. I will be honest. I will be vulnerable. I will share. I will give you the truth if you just ask me again.

This internal monologue would play on repeat, any time someone asked me if I was OK or seemed as if they were brave enough to approach my secret.

I was aware that people knew something was wrong, I mean, after fighting it for so many years it became too exhausting to hide. I had lost a dangerously large amount of weight, I had stopped showering, my hair was matted with grease and falling out, I had bald patches and sunken eyes and cuts and burns and bruises. My hate for life was obvious but no one directly asked me if I had ever considered ending it.

I kept waiting and waiting but no one asked. And although it wasn’t fair of me to think like this, I interpreted people’s avoidance of the question as a sign that they simply didn’t care about my answer.

Having also been on the other side of this question I know that this is not the case but when you are feeling suicidal it is like one part of your mind is seeking out any sign to leave and the other part is desperately searching for a reason to stay.

Asking someone if they are considering suicide will not push them towards suicide, your silence, which they may interpret as a lack of concern, could. It wouldn’t be your fault, even if you stayed silent. It is far more complex than that.

When someone dies by suicide no one is to blame, it is suicide that killed them. But if you think that someone may be considering suicide asking them directly will help far more than ignoring the issue and pretending like there is nothing wrong.

One day at school, when I was 18 years old and in my final year of college, I was called to the school office. I was scared and confused because I never did anything so how could I have done something wrong?

I sat timidly in the chair as I was told that two people, one student and one teacher, had separately reported their suspicions that I may be at risk of suicide. I panicked. My secret was out, and I became extremely defensive, but then I felt relieved.

Someone did care. Someone cared enough to notice. Someone actually cared enough to talk about it. I was terrified, yes, but at least something was happening. At least now there was hope that something could change.

“What will my parents think? What is going to happen to me now? Will I have to go to hospital? Will I have to leave school?” My thoughts were flying around my head at record breaking speeds.

But then I realised that these two anonymous sources never asked me about it, so did they really care that much? Did they only want to make sure that if something did happen they wouldn’t have to feel guilty because they had taken some action? I quickly concluded that they didn’t care about me, they only cared about their conscience.

And as I sat in that office, I wasn’t asked once if I had been considering suicide. Or if I had ever attempted before. They didn’t ask me how I felt or why I might be considering it.

Instead they talked in hypotheticals. “If you were feeling this way then there’s always counselling…”
Instead, they robotically listed resources available and in that moment, I realised that I was simply a problem to them, to the school. I wasn’t even a problem to be solved, I was a problem they were trying to avoid. A problem to keep quiet and hidden. That didn’t help with the feelings of shame and isolation that were already consuming me, it only exemplified them, pushing me towards my final decision.

I later found out that the vice principle had already contacted my parents about this and yet still no one had asked me. To the school I was a statistic, a set of grades, and if I made my decision I knew I would become another statistic. Did it really matter which statistic I was?

I felt like there was this giant monster sitting on top of my shoulders all of the time, but no one was addressing it. I was ashamed of the monster and I dreaded the day someone would address it but at the end of the day there was a huge freaking monster on my shoulders! It was huge! It was heavy! It was negatively impacting every single part of my life! But no one would talk about it!

Why didn’t I talk about it? Well, carrying it around was so exhausting that I didn’t have the energy to try. I was ashamed and I thought that if nobody else cared enough to talk about it then maybe it was something I was supposed to be ashamed of.

Also, I did talk about it. Maybe I didn’t call a suicide hotline and say ‘Hey, I’m thinking of taking my own life’ but I said things like “what’s the point?”, “I just wish I was in a coma” and “Is this all there is to life?” Through these I tested people’s reactions, to see if they would care if I left and to see how they would react if I ever did manage to approach them directly.

I said it with my isolation. I said it with my anger. I said it with my inability to fully engage. I said when I pushed people away so that I didn’t have to feel guilty about leaving them. I said it with my silence. Even if I didn’t say the specific words every part of me was screaming it every day.

This is why we need to talk about it and this is why we need mental health education. So that we can recognise these signs when they do appear. But they don’t always appear, or at least they don’t always appear in the way we may expect. Unfortunately, it’s not as simple as ticking things off of a list to see if someone is considering suicide.

Sometimes people seem depressed and sometimes people become elated, comforted by their decision.

Sometimes people push other’s away and sometimes they hold them closer.

Sometimes people stop showering and sometimes people give themselves a complete makeover.

This is why, if you have any concern, you should ask them directly. 

It is scary, but it is necessary.

Think of it in this way, if you are that scared about asking them if they feel suicidal, imagine how they feel actually battling these thoughts and urges.

Well, I wasn’t sent to hospital. I didn’t have to leave school. And I was glad, to an extent.

I’ve said this before but when you feel suicidal you don’t exactly want to die, not really, you just don’t want to be alive. I thought that if I was taken to hospital and removed from school then I really wouldn’t have anything to live for but at the same time I desperately wanted someone to take control of my life. I wanted someone to lock me up and only let me out when I was better. I was so torn and again, even though a large part of me didn’t want the help, I interpreted this lack of action for a lack of concern.

When you are considering suicide, a part of yourself becomes hyper focused on finding a reason to stick around for a bit longer. Asking someone if they are considering suicide shows them that you care, giving them one potential reason to keep going, at least initially.

You won’t be giving them the idea of suicide because, trust me, suicide isn’t a secret and if they are feeling that way then they will be drawn to the possibility regardless. But showing them that you are concerned can be more meaningful and helpful than you could ever imagine.

It can be life-saving.

If you liked this post you may also like:
1. Let's Talk About Suicide 
2. Phase One: Stay Alive
3. Living vs Surviving 
4. 17

RESOURCES:

UK & Ireland – The Samaritans - 116 123

Northern Ireland Lifeline - 0808 808 8000

America – The Samaritans - 1 (800) 273-TALK

Australia – LifeLine - 1-300-13-11-14

Netherlands – National Crisis Line - 0900-1450