I have starred this article on my google reader for maybe about 2 days or so. I see no comments so far.

I’ve known people who have had friends who committed suicide. In a sense, the grief is deferred away from those who knew him to the immediate family. That they had died is acknowledged, but the circumstances are difficult to talk about. I myself attempted suicide a few times in the past. It was a dark time in my life and I feel that I would not have changed my decision at the time. For a person who attempted suicide in the past, it is even a taboo topic for me.

My family were made aware of what happened, and they never ever mention it. It feels unhealthy for me.

hi christine! i met you at the walk last saturday and can i just say you’re an awesome person

toodles!

Hello,

I have been down the road of suicide many times. I have attempted suicide 4 times. The first time was when I was about 7 or 8. Just recently the memory of that time has surfaced. I have a block on my memory. I can’t remember much before the age of 10. Only flashes of memory here and there. Like poloroid pictures. The time when I first attempted suicide there are 3 images. One of me laying in the street trying to get run over. And two others of the building I was in front of. That’s it, for now. I didn’t think about suicide again till I was 9 1/2 years old. November 21st 1990 to be exact. I was having problems in school, problems like not sitting still, having problem with understanding the material. It was undiagnosed ADHD. I didn’t even know what the problem was called. I was told I was acting out for attention which couldn’t be farther from the truth. After the 6th time of being suspended the principle got upset. My parents told him that he wasn’t helping by suspending me. He finally realized that and decided to punish me for making him look bad. He told my parents they could either have me sent to the psychiatric hospital or he would make sure I got put in a children’s detention center. So that afternoon I was loaded into the car and instructed to tell the lady who was to interview me that I was suicidal and wanted to kill myself. I had no idea why I had to say such a thing, and had no idea what was to happen to me for saying it. I told the lady what I was told to say. 15 minutes later I was being check in to the children’s ward of Charter Oak Hospital in Covina for a week long stay over Thanksgiving to boot. On just my first morning there I was taken to the gym to play basket ball but was really upset and didn’t want to play. I was sitting and watching. I was told since I wouldn’t take part, that I had to go back to the unit. I figured I would be going back to my room. Nope, as soon as I walked through the locked doors of the ward I was taken through the door on the left and pushed into a solitary room (also known as “time out”). They locked the dead bolt along with 3 barrel locks. One at the top of the door, one just above the dead bold and one at the bottom. As if the dead bolt wasn’t enough to hold a 10 year old kid. I was kept in the room for the 45 remaining minutes the other kids were at the gym. I was put in the room again when I went to the nurses station and begged to be let to go home. This hospital stay was my first time away from home besides visiting a family member overnight. Because I stepped over the red line made of duck tape and just kept crying and begging and wouldn’t go back to me room I was put in the solitary room for “going off”. The dead bolt and the three barrel locks were again used as before. I just sat in the corner of the room and cried. I felt betrayed by my parents. For them not being there to keep me safe. If my parents locked me in a room they would go to jail. But yet this hospital could do it any time they wanted. I felt very hurt and scared. It was then for the second time in my life I thought of suicide. I probably would have done it that second had I had a method. I promised myself that if I was still in this much emotional pain and still felt betrayed by my parents I would kill myself on my 18th birthday. Obviously I am still here. I don’t even know how. I guess I have someone watching over me, because to date, every attempt has failed in some way. I was at the hospital for a week that time. My mom used the hospital as a form of punishment up till I was 17 years old. When I did something she didn’t like, she would call the psych hospital and tell them I was suicidal. I would be locked up for 3-7 days. I developed PTSD from the abuse done to me in the psych wards over the years. Me and suicide know each other well. It’s just a shame we met so early in life. 7 is way to young to have those kinds of thoughts.

-Stanley

I did have someone very close to me who commited suicide. I difficult to peer into the mind of someone who is that psychological disturbed and understand whats going on but when you are so close to that person its almost as if you understand why. The guy I knew I dated for over a year and I knew he had depression, but that wasn’t the only thing that played into that. I think what people don’t realize is that suicide might not be just from a mental illness but also from a physical issue. Greg was born with diabetes and had been putting his own insulin in since he was twelve. He had been plagued by the disease as it was a daily burden in his life. So siomething like that along with depression is a deadly cocktail. We broke up about a month before he did committed suicide and thats where the whole “I’m sorry for your loss thing came in.”

Instead of people seeing that it was a tremendous loss to me they more so saw it as my fault. Suicide is a tricky thing because people don’t know who to blame and usually they don’t want to blame the family because of the burden they already jave from the death so they look to the next closest thing. And in this case I was that person. What I realized though is that these people dont honestly see everything for what it is and what he was struggling with. They don’t want to admit to it. People don’t want to see the ones they love in that type of light so they blame someone else for manpulating them into that person.

The more “taboo” the subject of suicide is, the more, believe it will occur. LIKE CLOCKWORK. i am in my earlt 40s, but I remember reading The Bell Jar. (Sylvia Plath). Then, mental illness was frightening, shamefull, embarrassing and, again, a TABOO, subject. I feel that the more metal illnesses are respected as real illnesses, and treated aptly so, without the stigma, fear, shame, aloof nature or apathy often related to them, then real strides can be made in regard to treatment and healing. Possibly, when this becomes more prevalent, may lives be saved because mental illnesses can and do sresult in ultimate death. Just like any other progressive disease.