A couple of days ago I read an Instagram post by Jameela Jamil, tv presenter/actress and impressive activist over the last few years. She spoke about a past suicide attempt. Her bravery in sharing this stayed with me and undoubtedly gave me the courage to keep in the words 'suicidal ideation' in my group share.
Suicidal thoughts have featured in my life for as long as I can remember culminating in taking an overdose when I was aged 30 at the end of my first marriage. I deeply regretted the impact of this on my family. My brother came to the hospital with me as he was in Glasgow that weekend and though we never spoke about what happened he called me every day for weeks after that.
I used to think this came from working as a social worker, particularly within the field of substance misuse where the people I worked with frequently had suicidal thoughts. Two individuals that I had worked closely with successfully completed suicide. Isobel had included me in her suicide note thanking me for my support and I had visited Suzie in hospital days before she died and given her a massive hug. I assumed that I was experiencing secondary trauma from these experiences and worked with a cognitive behavioural therapist at that time. I called him ‘self-actualised Andy’, an incredible human being.
Yet, I never lost the pull of these thoughts when I felt overwhelmed. I used to have very clear thoughts of hanging myself and when I felt like this would regularly scan rooms for ways to do it. On a week-end break in Berlin four years ago, I was drunk and lost perspective. I managed to get a flex cable and scared myself by how close I came. I took another overdose two years ago when I found out that my second husband had sex with some one else.
I did not consistently want to kill myself, just that moments of overwhelm (usually when I had drunk too much alcohol) spiralled me into these familiar places. I kind of just accepted it as my normality. I did nt tell anyone that was n’t my therapist or husband (I have had a few of both) as I worried about being completely honest and scaring the people I loved. Its also a pretty hard conversation to start.
Working with therapist, Jane after the Berlin attempt helped me to understand that suicide had become an escape hatch for me and we explored ways that I could close the hatch. And I thought I had closed it until that night this February when I stood staring into the Clyde. The escape hatch was back. Except, this time, I realised that I wanted to close the hatch for good.
In addition to finding a bloody incredible Glasgow based therapist, I also read a lot of books by New York mindfulness therapist, David Richo. He wrote of committing to ourselves to no longer use suicide as a means to escape. This resonated so much with me. I wrote that commitment in my journal and refer back to it in my mind to strengthen my commitment.
And in committing to myself, great things have happened. After posting my 'oh so vulnerable I want to vomit' response to the reflective writing task on the University board, a lovely individual replied. She wrote' beautiful, Cath' and thanked me for my openness and honesty . She wrote that she was reminded of a quote by John Donaghue, the irish poet, author and philosopher. A quote so powerful to me that I am sharing it in its entirety:
" ...there is nothing to fear in the act of beginning. More often than not it knows the journey ahead better than we ever could. Perhaps the art of harvesting the secret riches of our lives is best achieved when we place profound trust in the act of beginning. Risk might be our greatest ally. To live a truly creative life, we always need to cast a critical look at where we presently are, attempting always to discern where we have become stagnant and where new beginning might be ripening. There can be no growth if we do not remain open and vulnerable to what is new and different. I have never seen anyone take a risk for growth that was not rewarded a thousand times over".
In committing to myself, I have been 'rewarded a thousand times'. I have been given the opportunity to connect with the truest, wisest version of myself. The version of myself that loves me far too much to even contemplate harming myself.
I so did not intend to write about my long and complicated relationship with suicide when I first started this post. However, it kind of wrote itself and so I did n't I wanted to shorten or edit it. My own risk for growth. My own recognition that risk may be our greatest ally. There also feels a space of safety and connection here so that it no longer feels as risky to share my story. #biglove #thankyou #braveasfuck.
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