I'm watching a great series on Netflix right now - called "13 reasons why". First I read the book and didn't hold high hopes for the series because I feel like once a book is on the screen - it loses so much of its purity and honesty.
But this has exceeded expectation and I'm so blessed.
I love it.
I wanted to blog tonight though - because as I'm watching the series - I'm struck by the people in it - especially Hannah's parents - who just want to know why.
When someone kills themselves and they don't leave a letter - the people who love them want to know why.
As someone who's stood on that edge - I'm hoping to expose 'the other side' and help you to understand.
Firstly - depression and suicide are different for everyone. There is no 'one size fits all' cure or solution to it - but there are definite similarities in the suffering of it - and this is something I can address because I know a lot about it.
Now to tell you what I know:
We don't jump off a building or cut our wrists or overdose 'just because' - it's usually the outcome of us actually suffering for a long, long time and it is a combination of things all at once that overwhelms us to the point where we want to die rather than be in incredible pain anymore. Dying feels like a blissful exit - and it's so tempting, you can almost taste the freedom.
Because in the fragile state depression and suicidal tendencies brings you to - freedom is suddenly what you become obsessed with.
That's what I like so much about "13 reasons why" - it is one of the rare moments I have witnessed something true to the representation of depression/suicidal suffering. It shows the build up of hurt over time that just pummels the poor girl until she just wants out.
That's how it happens, you know.
It starts with one small thing.
One inconsequential thing.
It could be illness. Just a flu - that leaves you in bed and away from home/school for weeks. Just a stupid illness but it becomes the first snowflake - then others stick to it - then it builds and builds and builds...and then it's a snowball. Then that snowball is 80 feet high and wide.
Then it kills you.
Because when you get back to work or school after you've been ill, you're not at your best and you can't keep a lid on your temper/emotions so you end up saying something you shouldn't. And the person you say it to has no time for your bollocks and they shut you down.
Now, on any other day, that would be an inconvenience.
But suddenly - it's your whole world - and it's crashing in at you from the ceiling.
So you're already bruised - and now you're seeing cracks appear.
But you're so used to 'keeping it together' that you don't even realise you're falling apart.
And that's another thing about suicide...you're so deep in it by the time you need help - that you convince yourself you're beyond help and that you're all alone.
And that makes you want to die even more.
Depression eats away at you from inside. It hollows you out. For me, my brain becomes my worst enemy and it decides to play back - on endless continuous loop - all my fears and failures.
From the moment I open my eyes - it begins.
"you're useless"
"you're worthless"
"no-one wants you"
"you're a fraud"
"you're alone"
"no-one likes you"
And then my mind plays back everything I've ever done or said that I've felt bad about.
As I swing my legs over the bed to start the day, my mind decides to remind me that my natural father didn't want to know me.
He left when you were a baby, you know.
You must have been some ugly-ass baby.
I shut my eyes tight to shut it out - but it's there behind my eyelids - the vague memory of him. My Dad. The shadow of his memory - like he was there...but not really. And in my memories - he's always leaving me.
I can't tell you what that's like. I can't explain in words how incredibly painful it is to know I wasn't good enough.
Depression asks "Are you good enough for anyone?"
And in that fragile state, I can only answer "No. Not really".
I look at my dishevelled appearance in the mirror.
"You are so ugly"
Now...I can't help but agree.
And in the next 20 minutes as I shower and dress for the day, my mind decides to replay all the times I was alone and left out in primary school. All the times other children said "ew" and pretended touching me or having any contact with me was going to make them sick. All the times I scrubbed my skin raw in the shower - trying to get the black off.
It never came off.
So I break a little more.
And little broken pieces of me trail behind as I walk to work. Bits fall off as I smile and greet everyone from reception with a bright "Good morning!", more pieces crack and crumble as I go through the motions of the day.
And that's another part of depression - it's invisible and you can still smile when you have it.
You can still laugh. You can find things funny. You can carry conversations, perform well at work, go to the gym, walk the dog, water the garden, pick your kids up from school...you can do it all.
...while the whole time, you're screaming and you're dying and it hurts like a bastard.
And in all of this - the waves keep coming.
The 80 feet waves keep coming.
Started with an illness.
Then you lost your temper.
Because you shouted at work, your boss told you off.
You cried in the bathroom.
Colleagues who saw you crying weren't sure what to do - so they did nothing.
But you interpret that as rejection.
And it makes you cry more.
You don't concentrate so you catch the wrong bus home.
You have to walk for 30 minutes and every step is a resentful one.
Because you're not home in time, you get told off by your parents/spouse "Where have you been?"
An innocent question by someone who was genuinely worried about you...but depression presents it as a threat. As danger. As something you have to run from.
So you respond with too much. Too much emotion.
And you end up alone in bed, wondering why your life is falling apart.
You text a friend that you can't sleep but depression muddles up your words so instead of saying "hey, I'm struggling - can we talk? I'd love to work through this hell hole with you" you text "hey" and they don't respond.
And every minute that passes becomes torture.
You stare at your phone, hoping against hope for a response.
Text me back.
But in your depressed state, 5 minutes feels more like years.
And in your crumbly, fragile state - you start imaginary fights with your friend "why weren't you there for me?" "where were you when I needed you?"
so that by the time they do text back "hey" - you're a mess and you text them "you know what? F**k you!" and understandably, they respond. They react. And it isn't pretty.
And the snowball gets bigger.
It is such an awful thing because when you need people around you the most - you become your prickliest version of yourself so that anyone who comes close to you gets hurt. So they back right off. Such a terrible conundrum because you need them close and they run. The more you run after them, the more crazy you appear and the more they run.
When all you needed was a friend to listen. A friend to put their hand in yours and squeeze it and remind you it's all going to be okay.
But depression isolates you.
It whispers "you're all alone" "no one will understand" "don't say anything because they'll think you're a weirdo" "don't say anything because you'll burden them" "keep quiet so that people don't have to worry about you"
You want to ask for help at this stage - at the stage where you think about hurting yourself...about ending your own life...but it is so HUGE and so dark and so freaking SCARY that you honestly don't know where to begin.
How do you start to say "help me" when all you had was a cold?
How did it get to be like this?
Where did it all go so wrong?
And the snowflakes keep adding.
Because if you have cancer - you have physical evidence of your suffering. If you have a medical illness - again, you have evidence. People can see what you're going through and they gather around to help you and love you through it.
But with depression - there is no evidence.
You look the way you've always looked.
You sound the way you always have.
There are no limbs falling off, no illnesses, no scans to point at - no hair falling out. No bruises or cuts. Nothing that shows how incredibly painful it all is.
Because you can still smile.
So it gets worse. You and your secret illness and you can't ask for help because you don't know how to show what the hell is wrong with yourself to others.
How do you ask for help when you can't show evidence of your suffering?
So slowly - it gets worse. And worse. And worse.
More friends avoid you because they don't know what to say or do to make you feel better.
You interpret that as rejection and you know what? It hurts! It hurts SO MUCH.
So you spend more time alone - in your own warped and hazy company - you spend time with the only person who's out to get you - yourself...and you isolate yourself from love and reason.
And the snowball gets bigger.
You worry more. You eat more. Or you stop eating altogether. You stress. You're anxious all the time. In pain all the time from your muscles cramping because of all the worry and stress. You don't sleep anymore. I heard somewhere that going without sleep/rest for a prolonged period of time is the same as being drunk.
You stumble through your life in a 'drunken' haze.
So you make more mistakes.
In the case of Hannah in "13 reasons why" - a**holes in your life can make things worse. Much worse.
And yet that's another thing depression seems to do and do really well - it repels the people in your life who bring goodness and light and it attracts those who want to do you harm.
I don't know why it does that - but it does.
And that makes things so much harder. So much more painful.
In my case - it started with being bullied by Joy at work. Such a little thing. Such a stupid, little thing.
"Just walk away from it" friends said.
"No job is worth your happiness" other friends said "just leave"
And now that I'm well - I can see it - so easy - just quit. Just get another job. Now that I'm in a job I'm happy in - I can see how much better this is for me.
But back then?
I felt so trapped.
It was that little thing that started my snowball.
Joy's hatred of me was so intense, I felt it like a knife in my back. Like a physical wound.
It made me feel frightened. Unsafe. Unsettled. Unhappy.
Then Alun and I went away on holiday.
I'm a homebody. I like nothing more than being at home, surrounded by familiar things. So being in an entirely different country was NOT a good idea at that critical time in my life.
But again, you don't realise it - so you can't say "actually no - I need to be at home" - you don't realise you're falling apart. You just shake it off, you smile. You climb a Mountain and go on day tours.
But deep down inside - something is not right and you know it.
But it's not big or obvious so you go on.
I was anxious the whole time Al and I were away in Koh Samui - longing for home, longing for my own bed, my own space - mine and Alun's home.
But I couldn't say so. I didn't want to let Alun down. I didn't want to worry the people who cared about me.
So that was another snowflake.
We got back from holiday and I was bleeding so much. Too much. I bled for hours without stopping.
Turns out, Al and I lost a baby.
I didn't even know I could conceive!!!
So we were grieving something we didn't even know we had.
And it is a terrible grief indeed to lose a baby. I don't even know how to describe it.
Another very big snowflake adding to the ball of snow.
With the guilt of "did I kill our baby?" weighing heavily on my heart, I went back to work - back to the bullying.
I didn't know which way was 'up' any more - but I kept moving forward.
Joy's muttered disapproving comments, sly glances and exaggerated eye-rolls were only small, stupid things - but they piled up on me and they hurt me. They bruised and battered me and they broke me.
So did losing a baby.
It made me feel so ill, physically. The strain of it all.
Then I fell out with Gracie - someone I loved so much and thought so highly of.
It's so funny because losing one friend feels so much bigger, deeper and scarier when you're depressed. It feels like you've got nobody. It honestly does.
Another snowflake.
I'd look at my reflection in the mirror and see a baby killer. A murderer. A failure as a woman and as a wife. A coward because I couldn't stand up to Joy. An idiot because for some reason, I couldn't leave my job - I couldn't see a way out. I couldn't "just walk away" - I felt stuck to that job as if it was treacle that covered me and no matter what I did, I was stuck in it. Stuck to it.
And after enough pain and grief in depression - you just stop feeling.
You can't cry and you wish so much that you could because it would be good to let some of the pain out.
So instead - people cut themselves. They hurt themselves on purpose because they need an outlet for all the fear and grief in their heads and hearts. They burn themselves. They get drunk. They take drugs. They have promiscuous sex. They get into fights. They commit crimes. They do whatever it takes to let the hurt and the pain out...and I'll tell you a secret - none of it works. The pain always comes back.
So you need another hit.
Another drink.
Another sexual partner.
Another cut on your arm.
Another burn.
Another vomit.
Another pill.
Another sleepless night.
And when that doesn't work - suicide starts to look very, very attractive.
People who don't know what it's like ask:
Why didn't you talk to someone?
Because I was so out of my mind with fear and shame that I didn't know how to ask for help. I just didn't know.
Why would you think dying was a good idea?
Because suicide transforms in your mind from an end of life - to an end to the constant pain, fear and worry.
And the big one:
Why would you do that to people who care about you?
Because when I was suffering that badly - I honestly believed with every fibre of my being that no one cared. No one would notice. No one would mind. And if they did - it would just burden them. And that I was capable of wanting to save them from.
SUICIDE IS A PERMANENT SOLUTION TO A TEMPORARY PROBLEM.
You might have even heard that before.
But unless you're there - in that deep, dark pit of hell - you don't know that it feels f**king permanent at the time.
Trust me, it honestly feels like it will NEVER EVER END.
So before I write another novel - here's what I try to do for my friends when they struggle and what I hope you'll do for yours.
BE PERSISTENT
They'll try to push you away. Respect their space but SEND THAT TEXT. The one that says "I'm thinking of you" "I care so much about you" "I'm worried about you" "I'm here if you need to talk" "Are you ok?" "what can I do?" "do you want to talk about it?" because no matter what they say - they READ it. Whether that person responds or not - it still means a lot that you reached out. Believe me, it really does help. Your texts may well save a life.
BE THERE.
The best messages I received when I was suicidal - on the very brink of life and death - were from people I love who offered to come over and just be with me. I said no to all of them - but having the offer - I think that's so much of why I'm still here on this blog today and not 6 feet under.
BE PATIENT
Suicidal/depressed/anxious people - when they're in the thick of it - are the most obnoxious, annoying, whiny, negative, HORRIBLE versions of themselves. They are their most unlovable selves and you will want to put about 10,000 miles between yourself and them - but don't - just be patient. Take deep breaths because God knows, they can't. Stay. Persist. Love on them even though they're being a**holes - because they need it now more than they ever have in their lives. Remind yourself of who they really are when they're not like this. Remind yourself of their laugh, their kindness and of why you love them in the first place. Then put that into a card or letter, email or text - and REMIND THAT PERSON, too.
I guess that's it. Just do those ^^ 3 things - over and over and OVER and OVER and that person will live to fight another day.
And they're worth that.
They'll forget that - but that's why we're there for our friends...to remind them.
Keep an eye out for friends who:
Drastically change their behaviour or looks
Talk about problems they've encountered haltingly, in a confused, anxious manner.
Say 'jokingly' or 'casually' how they'd like to die - and then laugh it off. That's a cry for help. It's not a joke. DO NOT IGNORE IT. Don't let them ignore it. Hug them. Hold them. Get them to a hospital.
Tell you in some strange way that they're not okay "I'm having a tough day", "I'm just so tired", "I'm fed up" - it may be a small thing, but if you 'catch' it before it gets to be a BIG thing, you'll save a life. Keep an eye on them. Text them daily - hourly if you think they need it. I'd rather be annoying than lose a friend to depression/suicide.
Be Persistent
Be There
Be Patient
Be the light when all they can see is darkness - because it will make a difference.
Trust me.
But this has exceeded expectation and I'm so blessed.
I love it.
I wanted to blog tonight though - because as I'm watching the series - I'm struck by the people in it - especially Hannah's parents - who just want to know why.
When someone kills themselves and they don't leave a letter - the people who love them want to know why.
As someone who's stood on that edge - I'm hoping to expose 'the other side' and help you to understand.
Firstly - depression and suicide are different for everyone. There is no 'one size fits all' cure or solution to it - but there are definite similarities in the suffering of it - and this is something I can address because I know a lot about it.
Now to tell you what I know:
We don't jump off a building or cut our wrists or overdose 'just because' - it's usually the outcome of us actually suffering for a long, long time and it is a combination of things all at once that overwhelms us to the point where we want to die rather than be in incredible pain anymore. Dying feels like a blissful exit - and it's so tempting, you can almost taste the freedom.
Because in the fragile state depression and suicidal tendencies brings you to - freedom is suddenly what you become obsessed with.
That's what I like so much about "13 reasons why" - it is one of the rare moments I have witnessed something true to the representation of depression/suicidal suffering. It shows the build up of hurt over time that just pummels the poor girl until she just wants out.
That's how it happens, you know.
It starts with one small thing.
One inconsequential thing.
It could be illness. Just a flu - that leaves you in bed and away from home/school for weeks. Just a stupid illness but it becomes the first snowflake - then others stick to it - then it builds and builds and builds...and then it's a snowball. Then that snowball is 80 feet high and wide.
Then it kills you.
Because when you get back to work or school after you've been ill, you're not at your best and you can't keep a lid on your temper/emotions so you end up saying something you shouldn't. And the person you say it to has no time for your bollocks and they shut you down.
Now, on any other day, that would be an inconvenience.
But suddenly - it's your whole world - and it's crashing in at you from the ceiling.
So you're already bruised - and now you're seeing cracks appear.
But you're so used to 'keeping it together' that you don't even realise you're falling apart.
And that's another thing about suicide...you're so deep in it by the time you need help - that you convince yourself you're beyond help and that you're all alone.
And that makes you want to die even more.
Depression eats away at you from inside. It hollows you out. For me, my brain becomes my worst enemy and it decides to play back - on endless continuous loop - all my fears and failures.
From the moment I open my eyes - it begins.
"you're useless"
"you're worthless"
"no-one wants you"
"you're a fraud"
"you're alone"
"no-one likes you"
And then my mind plays back everything I've ever done or said that I've felt bad about.
As I swing my legs over the bed to start the day, my mind decides to remind me that my natural father didn't want to know me.
He left when you were a baby, you know.
You must have been some ugly-ass baby.
I shut my eyes tight to shut it out - but it's there behind my eyelids - the vague memory of him. My Dad. The shadow of his memory - like he was there...but not really. And in my memories - he's always leaving me.
I can't tell you what that's like. I can't explain in words how incredibly painful it is to know I wasn't good enough.
Depression asks "Are you good enough for anyone?"
And in that fragile state, I can only answer "No. Not really".
I look at my dishevelled appearance in the mirror.
"You are so ugly"
Now...I can't help but agree.
And in the next 20 minutes as I shower and dress for the day, my mind decides to replay all the times I was alone and left out in primary school. All the times other children said "ew" and pretended touching me or having any contact with me was going to make them sick. All the times I scrubbed my skin raw in the shower - trying to get the black off.
It never came off.
So I break a little more.
And little broken pieces of me trail behind as I walk to work. Bits fall off as I smile and greet everyone from reception with a bright "Good morning!", more pieces crack and crumble as I go through the motions of the day.
And that's another part of depression - it's invisible and you can still smile when you have it.
You can still laugh. You can find things funny. You can carry conversations, perform well at work, go to the gym, walk the dog, water the garden, pick your kids up from school...you can do it all.
...while the whole time, you're screaming and you're dying and it hurts like a bastard.
And in all of this - the waves keep coming.
The 80 feet waves keep coming.
Started with an illness.
Then you lost your temper.
Because you shouted at work, your boss told you off.
You cried in the bathroom.
Colleagues who saw you crying weren't sure what to do - so they did nothing.
But you interpret that as rejection.
And it makes you cry more.
You don't concentrate so you catch the wrong bus home.
You have to walk for 30 minutes and every step is a resentful one.
Because you're not home in time, you get told off by your parents/spouse "Where have you been?"
An innocent question by someone who was genuinely worried about you...but depression presents it as a threat. As danger. As something you have to run from.
So you respond with too much. Too much emotion.
And you end up alone in bed, wondering why your life is falling apart.
You text a friend that you can't sleep but depression muddles up your words so instead of saying "hey, I'm struggling - can we talk? I'd love to work through this hell hole with you" you text "hey" and they don't respond.
And every minute that passes becomes torture.
You stare at your phone, hoping against hope for a response.
Text me back.
But in your depressed state, 5 minutes feels more like years.
And in your crumbly, fragile state - you start imaginary fights with your friend "why weren't you there for me?" "where were you when I needed you?"
so that by the time they do text back "hey" - you're a mess and you text them "you know what? F**k you!" and understandably, they respond. They react. And it isn't pretty.
And the snowball gets bigger.
It is such an awful thing because when you need people around you the most - you become your prickliest version of yourself so that anyone who comes close to you gets hurt. So they back right off. Such a terrible conundrum because you need them close and they run. The more you run after them, the more crazy you appear and the more they run.
When all you needed was a friend to listen. A friend to put their hand in yours and squeeze it and remind you it's all going to be okay.
But depression isolates you.
It whispers "you're all alone" "no one will understand" "don't say anything because they'll think you're a weirdo" "don't say anything because you'll burden them" "keep quiet so that people don't have to worry about you"
You want to ask for help at this stage - at the stage where you think about hurting yourself...about ending your own life...but it is so HUGE and so dark and so freaking SCARY that you honestly don't know where to begin.
How do you start to say "help me" when all you had was a cold?
How did it get to be like this?
Where did it all go so wrong?
And the snowflakes keep adding.
Because if you have cancer - you have physical evidence of your suffering. If you have a medical illness - again, you have evidence. People can see what you're going through and they gather around to help you and love you through it.
But with depression - there is no evidence.
You look the way you've always looked.
You sound the way you always have.
There are no limbs falling off, no illnesses, no scans to point at - no hair falling out. No bruises or cuts. Nothing that shows how incredibly painful it all is.
Because you can still smile.
So it gets worse. You and your secret illness and you can't ask for help because you don't know how to show what the hell is wrong with yourself to others.
How do you ask for help when you can't show evidence of your suffering?
So slowly - it gets worse. And worse. And worse.
More friends avoid you because they don't know what to say or do to make you feel better.
You interpret that as rejection and you know what? It hurts! It hurts SO MUCH.
So you spend more time alone - in your own warped and hazy company - you spend time with the only person who's out to get you - yourself...and you isolate yourself from love and reason.
And the snowball gets bigger.
You worry more. You eat more. Or you stop eating altogether. You stress. You're anxious all the time. In pain all the time from your muscles cramping because of all the worry and stress. You don't sleep anymore. I heard somewhere that going without sleep/rest for a prolonged period of time is the same as being drunk.
You stumble through your life in a 'drunken' haze.
So you make more mistakes.
In the case of Hannah in "13 reasons why" - a**holes in your life can make things worse. Much worse.
And yet that's another thing depression seems to do and do really well - it repels the people in your life who bring goodness and light and it attracts those who want to do you harm.
I don't know why it does that - but it does.
And that makes things so much harder. So much more painful.
In my case - it started with being bullied by Joy at work. Such a little thing. Such a stupid, little thing.
"Just walk away from it" friends said.
"No job is worth your happiness" other friends said "just leave"
And now that I'm well - I can see it - so easy - just quit. Just get another job. Now that I'm in a job I'm happy in - I can see how much better this is for me.
But back then?
I felt so trapped.
It was that little thing that started my snowball.
Joy's hatred of me was so intense, I felt it like a knife in my back. Like a physical wound.
It made me feel frightened. Unsafe. Unsettled. Unhappy.
Then Alun and I went away on holiday.
I'm a homebody. I like nothing more than being at home, surrounded by familiar things. So being in an entirely different country was NOT a good idea at that critical time in my life.
But again, you don't realise it - so you can't say "actually no - I need to be at home" - you don't realise you're falling apart. You just shake it off, you smile. You climb a Mountain and go on day tours.
But deep down inside - something is not right and you know it.
But it's not big or obvious so you go on.
I was anxious the whole time Al and I were away in Koh Samui - longing for home, longing for my own bed, my own space - mine and Alun's home.
But I couldn't say so. I didn't want to let Alun down. I didn't want to worry the people who cared about me.
So that was another snowflake.
We got back from holiday and I was bleeding so much. Too much. I bled for hours without stopping.
Turns out, Al and I lost a baby.
I didn't even know I could conceive!!!
So we were grieving something we didn't even know we had.
And it is a terrible grief indeed to lose a baby. I don't even know how to describe it.
Another very big snowflake adding to the ball of snow.
With the guilt of "did I kill our baby?" weighing heavily on my heart, I went back to work - back to the bullying.
I didn't know which way was 'up' any more - but I kept moving forward.
Joy's muttered disapproving comments, sly glances and exaggerated eye-rolls were only small, stupid things - but they piled up on me and they hurt me. They bruised and battered me and they broke me.
So did losing a baby.
It made me feel so ill, physically. The strain of it all.
Then I fell out with Gracie - someone I loved so much and thought so highly of.
It's so funny because losing one friend feels so much bigger, deeper and scarier when you're depressed. It feels like you've got nobody. It honestly does.
Another snowflake.
I'd look at my reflection in the mirror and see a baby killer. A murderer. A failure as a woman and as a wife. A coward because I couldn't stand up to Joy. An idiot because for some reason, I couldn't leave my job - I couldn't see a way out. I couldn't "just walk away" - I felt stuck to that job as if it was treacle that covered me and no matter what I did, I was stuck in it. Stuck to it.
And after enough pain and grief in depression - you just stop feeling.
You can't cry and you wish so much that you could because it would be good to let some of the pain out.
So instead - people cut themselves. They hurt themselves on purpose because they need an outlet for all the fear and grief in their heads and hearts. They burn themselves. They get drunk. They take drugs. They have promiscuous sex. They get into fights. They commit crimes. They do whatever it takes to let the hurt and the pain out...and I'll tell you a secret - none of it works. The pain always comes back.
So you need another hit.
Another drink.
Another sexual partner.
Another cut on your arm.
Another burn.
Another vomit.
Another pill.
Another sleepless night.
And when that doesn't work - suicide starts to look very, very attractive.
People who don't know what it's like ask:
Why didn't you talk to someone?
Because I was so out of my mind with fear and shame that I didn't know how to ask for help. I just didn't know.
Why would you think dying was a good idea?
Because suicide transforms in your mind from an end of life - to an end to the constant pain, fear and worry.
And the big one:
Why would you do that to people who care about you?
Because when I was suffering that badly - I honestly believed with every fibre of my being that no one cared. No one would notice. No one would mind. And if they did - it would just burden them. And that I was capable of wanting to save them from.
SUICIDE IS A PERMANENT SOLUTION TO A TEMPORARY PROBLEM.
You might have even heard that before.
But unless you're there - in that deep, dark pit of hell - you don't know that it feels f**king permanent at the time.
Trust me, it honestly feels like it will NEVER EVER END.
So before I write another novel - here's what I try to do for my friends when they struggle and what I hope you'll do for yours.
BE PERSISTENT
They'll try to push you away. Respect their space but SEND THAT TEXT. The one that says "I'm thinking of you" "I care so much about you" "I'm worried about you" "I'm here if you need to talk" "Are you ok?" "what can I do?" "do you want to talk about it?" because no matter what they say - they READ it. Whether that person responds or not - it still means a lot that you reached out. Believe me, it really does help. Your texts may well save a life.
BE THERE.
The best messages I received when I was suicidal - on the very brink of life and death - were from people I love who offered to come over and just be with me. I said no to all of them - but having the offer - I think that's so much of why I'm still here on this blog today and not 6 feet under.
BE PATIENT
Suicidal/depressed/anxious people - when they're in the thick of it - are the most obnoxious, annoying, whiny, negative, HORRIBLE versions of themselves. They are their most unlovable selves and you will want to put about 10,000 miles between yourself and them - but don't - just be patient. Take deep breaths because God knows, they can't. Stay. Persist. Love on them even though they're being a**holes - because they need it now more than they ever have in their lives. Remind yourself of who they really are when they're not like this. Remind yourself of their laugh, their kindness and of why you love them in the first place. Then put that into a card or letter, email or text - and REMIND THAT PERSON, too.
I guess that's it. Just do those ^^ 3 things - over and over and OVER and OVER and that person will live to fight another day.
And they're worth that.
They'll forget that - but that's why we're there for our friends...to remind them.
Keep an eye out for friends who:
Drastically change their behaviour or looks
Talk about problems they've encountered haltingly, in a confused, anxious manner.
Say 'jokingly' or 'casually' how they'd like to die - and then laugh it off. That's a cry for help. It's not a joke. DO NOT IGNORE IT. Don't let them ignore it. Hug them. Hold them. Get them to a hospital.
Tell you in some strange way that they're not okay "I'm having a tough day", "I'm just so tired", "I'm fed up" - it may be a small thing, but if you 'catch' it before it gets to be a BIG thing, you'll save a life. Keep an eye on them. Text them daily - hourly if you think they need it. I'd rather be annoying than lose a friend to depression/suicide.
Be Persistent
Be There
Be Patient
Be the light when all they can see is darkness - because it will make a difference.
Trust me.
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