Posts tagged: suicide prevention

The following interchange exemplifies what I mean by expressing yourself to individuals in your life who know intimately what you know or how, at times, you may feel because they may have felt likewise. They can gently remind you of principles you actually know to be true but have perhaps lost somewhere in your efforts to effect change in the world. This woman and I are both crusaders for suicide prevention. Both of us work with the military. Both of us are therapists and educators. Both of us are God-directed. Both of us have been tested by limitations placed on us by an often resistant, unenlightened and intractable institutional atmosphere of varying degrees. We have commiserated about it and the taxing effect it has had on our resolve, which has been sorely tested but never wavered. We have never met in person. I often address military battalions and squadrons on the subject of suicidality and talk about exactly what to do on a daily basis in order to actively help a battle buddy who might be struggling. I refer to my booklet “Suicide Prevention for Battle Buddies and their Families” available soon for free download at my website (https://www.jsp3.org). I speak honestly about my own 24 years of suicidality and how I came to successfully understand its origins and to manage it with the help of my dedicated and goal-directed friends. The intention of this cadre of friends for years was to carefully and insightfully keep me alive until I learned how to keep myself alive. This was a message that I sent my east coast buddy on the eve before 2014 convened. L, you are truly one of God’s gifts. Keeping going is one of the hardest things to do especially when it is difficult to see any changes happening and people suffering in the meantime. I addressed a very young Stryker battalion this November where the mean age was 24 and two was the average number of deployments. I spoke earnestly and from the heart using as many examples that I thought they would find meaningful. Later on I overheard my husband telling one of the sergeants that he was miffed at the guys in the top rows laughing and giggling, although quietly, during my talk. I tried to suck it up. Originally I thought I did a good job until we were at dinner that night and I realized how many “kids” in that battalion were goofing off, maybe making fun of me, but maybe (hopefully) deflecting the austerity and reality of the message. However, while I was paying attention as I always do during my suicidality talks, I was astonished at the number of heads that were bowed and NOT making fun, but unable to look up and engage my eyes. Later on I looked at husband John across the dinner table, and said, “I didn’t reach them. As much as I prayed I would and as hard as I worked on my talk, I did not reach them.” And then the tears began to flow. I couldn’t stem them and I knew the only thing to do was cry it out.  I decided to go out to the car and wait for John to pay the bill. As I left the restaurant, three kind young men opened the door for me. I had my head down but raised it just long enough to hide my tears while thanking them. One of the guys said, “Hey, you’re the lady that spoke to our battalion today. You were great. You were the best speaker we’ve ever had and we really heard what you had to say.” Huge tears rolled down my cheeks. I looked up and said, “Thank you, but I was convinced of just the opposite.” They asked if they could help me out to the car and I agreed realizing I needed some guidance. They put my walker in the backseat and asked what else they could do for me.  With tears still pooling, I replied, “Take care of yourself, but most of all, listen and take care of each other.” Then I gave them each a hug and we went on our way. I cried all the way home. I still don’t know what to think about that day. I don’t know if I am too old to talk to and be heard by the majority of young people today or am I asking too much of them? I know I must do what I can and if it helps one person I need to be able to endure the derision of a hundred in order to make that one miracle happen. And ego be damned, eh? So you keep going. We’ll all keep going. You are blessed. And you’re a precious child of God.  Everything we do to reach out to help someone anywhere, anytime is important. Love, Randi J. This was her enlightened response. Dear wonderful Randi, You touch people so much more than you know, and though your awareness of your effect on others didn’t seem helpful – it absolutely was.  The military culture as you know better than me is one of stolid fortitude and resistance to vulnerability.  Many learned as children that being vulnerable meant they gave others a “weapon” to hurt them.  The walls they build up, you pulled down.  Those chuckling in the top rows were listening, even as they felt they were conveying their machismo and barriers.  Do not doubt this; He is well pleased with you. There isn’t a service member or vet alive that hasn’t been affected by someone (or themselves) who wants to end their own life.  I can say with assurance that you reached many more than those three young men at the door.  We’ve never met in person, but we already know more about each other than we imagine.  Your talk was a gift to them, and my belief is that your words come back to many of them at the oddest times; your words don’t just dissipate into the ether; they stick with people. God brings people together for a reason, and He doesn’t make mistakes.  You’re right, keeping going when we don’t want to do so is what makes us different.  But I don’t think I know how to not help people, and neither do you; it’s why we live every day.  I have never been in the emotional space you have, but I’ve been mightily challenged.  We wounded healers are the sustainers of His will, and we bow to that will, knowing He will give us what we need, even when we sigh and weep and wonder.  It’s what we DO. With great care and His love, peace, my friend, in 2014, L. That’s what I mean by knowing who to talk to and who to keep close to you in days of questioning and times of challenge. We cannot be afraid to have tender underbellies. There is no one who does not have one. If we are wise in whom we confide, we could know that vulnerability can be expressed without fear of exploitation. The question to ask yourself is, are you someone who can be confided in? Or more expressly, are you someone who can be fearless enough to be the one confiding?