I Don't Care If You'll Miss Me

It's hard to explain suicidal thoughts to other people without them getting selfish about it. Responses are always some variation of "Don't do that! I'd be upset!" or "I'd miss you!" or "Don't say that!" or "You'd be depriving the world!" And if you're a typical "caring" individual, those things probably sound sweet or even altruistic.

But in reality, those comments are all about you, or all about other people, and do nothing to take into account the actual, acute, and very real pain of the suicidal person. If you've said such things to a suicidal person, you are basically ONLY acknowledging your own feelings about the subject, and are insisting the person completely stop caring about the only thing they perceive that they have left to care about, which is how miserable they feel. Saying you'll "miss them" is even more selfish, because you're essentially saying that you want the person to continue living a life of physical and emotional pain, forever, rather than you having to merely endure "missing" them. Imposing that level of selfishness and minimization on them makes the suicidal person feel MORE alone and desperate, not less. By doing what you think is "supportive", you only make things worse.

Deeply suicidal people don't give a rat's ass about your feelings. They don't care what you would be "sad" about, how much you love them, or what you would miss about them. They don't care how popular or pretty you think they are, or how many friends they have, or how talented they are. They also don't care if it's "nice" outside, or if you just made them a cake, or if your cousin's friend's sister just had a baby. To a suicidal mind, being entrenched in that severe level of despair and darkness means every other thing in the world becomes petty. Especially your attempts at small talk. Everything is worthless and unhelpful. Nothing means anything. And if there is ANY meaning at all, it's usually a distorted kind of despondent paranoia that everything is horrible, life hates them and it will only continue to get worse. Your comments about how nice it is outside, or how people miss them, come out as taunts - a suicidal person wouldn't even be able to muster the energy to enjoy those things if they tried.

And certainly don't get mad or tell them "don't say things like that". You're lucky they're even talking at all. Shutting them down will make them retreat further into their heads and become even more likely to do something drastic.

If you want to get through to a depressed and suicidal person, cheerfulness is not the answer. Any attempt at being overly cheerful in their presence paints you as uncaring and airheaded. The person you're trying so hard to convince is likely thinking that you're delusional yourself. Compliments are not the answer either. They mean nothing. And even if they don't disagree, it's likely because it would take too much energy to do so. So no cheery talk. And anger/frustration is entirely counterproductive. What they really need is understanding. Really and truly making an attempt to understand what they're going through. Unless you can make that effort, all you're really doing is flapping your lips at a brick wall.

It's important to understand that a suicidal and deeply depressed person is functioning in an ENTIRELY different reality of meaning and values (or lack thereof) than you do. No matter what you say to try and cheer them up, it will not make any difference, because the things you perceive to be "happy" or "uplifting" news are neutral, unimportant, or useless bits of information to the other person, however important they seem to you. Their ONLY reality is the constant level of emotional pain and misery, and the feeling of being stuck inside their head where all of this inescapably horrible, distorted reality is happening in the first place. Unfortunately, that is the only "real" world for someone in that state, and in that world nobody really cares, and nobody makes enough effort to understand.

So if you really want to help and "get through", and have some chance at getting their attention through the despondent fog, do some research. Read books about depression. Watch videos. Read other people's memoirs or personal accounts of what it's like. Accept that the suicidal reality IS the reality in their head, and speak to them keeping that in mind. Don't push your cheery and positive reality on them, even if it's the "correct" reality, because it will make no sense to them. Instead, try and understand. Ask questions. Ask the person what it's like. If you read a personal account with particular details, describe it to them and ask if it's "like that", and you may get them to talk. Have them try and describe things. But don't ask too many questions at once, and be patient for the answers, because the mental fog accompanying deep depression can make responses VERY delayed, even if they hear you just fine when you're speaking.

Also, be able to sit quietly and just be there. With warning of course, asking first if they would be okay with seeing somebody familiar (and expect flat nos for a while if their social anxiety is too much). Depressed people pull away from friends and groups, sometimes because of added social anxiety, sometimes because of lack of energy or patience, or dread of overstimulation. But that doesn't mean they're not terribly, terribly lonely at the same time. But while you need to make sure they know you're paying attention, don't just "stop by" without warning, because that kind of surprise can be an upsetting trigger to someone who currently needs a stable and quiet space.

However, the longer they draw away without anyone making a true effort to contact them at all (even via email, chat, or letters), the worse they will feel about "people" in general, especially people who claimed to be their friends. The longer they go without feeling like they have a support network to come back to, the less likely they will believe anyone who says that "people care". To a suicidal and depressed person, saying that "people care" is just invoking an image of an imaginary, invisible group. Who are these people? Where are they? The depressed logic: they're not present, they're not in direct contact, so they don't care. And how are they showing they care, other than by your word? Are they making offhand Facebook comments? A stray text message? That isn't helpful. That isn't real friend caring, and it means absolutely nothing to the person in question. It's armchair caring, much like armchair politics. Lazy, effortless, "say it and forget it" caring.

So stay away physically if needed, but please don't be silent if you actually do care. The silence can add that much more hurt and pain to the problem overall. You don't have to be in constant contact, but make the effort to say more than just "how are you" every few days; the answer will likely be the same, and repeating yourself will just make the person will feel less and less like you actually give a crap about the answer. They might even stop responding to you altogether.

Above all, keep in mind that the very idea of wanting to commit suicide has very real roots in feeling like nobody understands. If you want to actively help, try to understand. Maybe even introduce them to other people who do. The person will appreciate that more than any cheery nonsensical small talk. If you show you're trying, and they see you're taking them seriously, you'll have a much better chance at keeping them grounded, at least long enough to get other kinds of help.

Stuck in a Well

Imagine you're stuck down a deep, dark well. You have no idea how you got there. You're cold, scared, and lonely, and want to go home. You reach for the walls to orient yourself, but suddenly realize: you have no arms. They were not cut off or ripped off, but your body just ends at the shoulders where there should be arms, and you are incomplete.

Imagine screaming in horror at your missing limbs, then screaming for help - up, up the well shaft at the featureless sky above. It might be days before somebody hears you. It might be weeks. Months. You can lick the walls for a foul-tasting drink, but even though it sustains you, it's not enjoyable, and it's an effort to do so.

In your shock, you lose track of time. You stop paying attention to the only sliver of the sun's path you can see. Days pass. Maybe more. You don't know what day it even is anymore.

Finally one day a group of people hear you screaming and offer help. They have a brief discussion out of earshot, and then one of them appears with a smile, and reaches a hand down into the well. It's obviously too high up.

"I can't reach that," you say. At first they see the logic. It's obviously too deep. So the guy thinks, then bends further into the well. "I still can't reach that," you say, "and anyway, I have no arms to grab."

A flicker of annoyance crosses his face. "Can't you see I'm trying to help?" he snaps. "Look at the effort I'm making here!" He pulls back and you hear another muffled discussion taking place. Then nothing for a while. Suddenly you hear a noise and a long piece of string tumbles down the shaft. Not only is it clear to you that it would not support the weight of a human being, but you still have no hands to use it.

"I can't use this!" you yell out of frustration. "I told you, I have no arms!"

A face or two appears at the top of the well again, looking angry. "What's wrong with you?" they chide. "Are you lazy or something? Make the damn effort and reach for the rope! We went through a lot of trouble to find it! Just climb!"

You start to cry. "I can't! I. Have. No. Arms. And the 'rope' is too thin. There's no way this will work," you say bitterly.

One of the guys curses you and leaves. Another says, "Can't you see the help is there? Are you blind? Are you making fun of us? Just use your damn hands and meet us halfway, for fuck's sake!"

Your heart sinks. "I have no arms," you repeat again, quietly.

"What?" he asks.

"I! HAVE! NO! ARMS!" you scream as loudly as possible. "I! HAVE! NO! ARMS!" Again and again you scream and repeat yourself and try to explain, but all they do is get even more angry and frustrated at you that you aren't using your hands to take the help they offer, which really isn't the right kind of help for your situation at all. But they don't seem to understand that, or even hear or accept your reasons why.

Finally they give up, mutter that you probably just want to stay there, drop the rope into the well, curse you again, and leave.

You're alone again. It gets dark quickly. There are no lights but the tiny opening to the sky, but you eventually just stop looking up at all, because it hurts your neck. It rains on you sometimes. Those times are worse because there's nowhere to go, and the floor gets even more damp. Other times you just sit on the cold ground and wish for death. Most of the time you just feel nothing. And you still have no arms.

Once in a while someone comes by the well and looks down out of curiosity. If they see you, they don't always acknowledge it. Or if they do, they think you're there intentionally, or that you're fine where you are because you aren't screaming at that moment. Maybe once or twice someone who also has no arms looks down and sees you. You nod at each other, because you both know they can't really help you. Not while you're still stuck down there.

Sometimes you do scream. Many people pretend they don't hear it. Others assume that's the noise wells make. Nobody who ever stops to offer you help understands why you can't handle a rope or take a hand. The words "I have no arms" seem to confuse them, and they gloss over it like a blind spot.

Otherwise, every day is the same. The clouds may change up there, or the color of the sky, but it's joyless. Your own scenery, the cold, damp, hateful walls and hard, gritty, stony floor, never change. You are stuck. You will always be stuck. And you still have no arms.

After a while, and after too many people not listening to you, you begin to feel like "I have no arms" is a nonsensical phrase your brain made up in a panic, which is maybe why nobody understands it. But you know it makes sense. You know you're missing them. You know you're helpless.

It pains you more that you're never offered the right kind of help, even if you make suggestions that may be useful, like filling the well slowly, or using a crane. People find all kinds of excuses for not doing those things: It costs too much. They're too busy. It will damage the well. They won't fill it because they might want to keep it empty and use it one day. The cranes are busy building someone a fancy house. It's more effort than they care to expend on you. And they say these things and leave. And you are alone again.

And you cry. And you cry. And you cry.

This is depression.

It's not that you don't want the help. It's that you can't take the help offered, because it's the wrong kind of help. And people can't see that the problem is not laziness, or you trying to be difficult, but that you're missing the kind of thing that other people use to accept help, like hands. It's just easier to imagine not having hands or arms than it is to imagine a more invisible, mental, incapacity. That makes it even harder, because people see you have a complete body on the outside, and just assume you're not trying. But like someone with no arms, you CAN'T try. Not the way they want or expect you to. But they don't listen. They don't understand. Because it's in your head. In your brain. And other people walking past - they can't even see the well.