I’ve only attempted once, but no one knew. What happens when you attempted to end your suffering? Everything from how did you feel to know you weren’t successful, your hospital stay and mental health evaluation? And how your friends, family, co-workers and employer responded and acted in the days, weeks and months after. And your thoughts based on how everyone treated or continues to treat you from a suicide attempt. And did things get better or worse after? Thanks!
If you want to tell details (means of exit etc) you can, but not necessary.
17 comments
Well, I really only made one serious attempt (over 20 years ago) and, looking back, even that one seemed kind of half-hearted. Ever since I learned how to do it right, I haven’t tried (because if I do, it won’t be an “attempt”).
I have been treated for being suicidal, though. What were the results of that? Sort-term, I felt a lttle better. Long term, it was a huge mistake. I am now labeled for life, reduced to the status of second-class citizen, placed on a list, choices and freedoms gone permanently, have a false diagnosis following me, and will never qualify for many insurance policies. All of that bothers me – a lot.
How did others treat me? Most people were very kind and supportive. I did have a supervisor who would go around making fun of me to my coworkers when I left for my weekly group therapy (which, along with hypnosis, was my favorite treatment). I no longer work for that jerk.
I once had a so-called friend call the cops on me because I decided NOT to go through with it, but he thought I needed treatment anyway! And so I was dragged off to the ER by the cops (lecturing me the whole way). The hospital didn’t keep me (damn good thing). I was FURIOUS and so was my fiance (a former cop himself).
And so ends my soap opera. I maintain a lot more control over my life now. I will choose what I want to do with my life and don’t put up with crap from people.
Didn’t answer your hospital stay question. Those actually went pretty well, and everyone was nice, except for two incidents: the false diagnosis I mentioned and a nurse tricking me into signing paperwork I shouldn’t have signed. I do not want to elaborate, but anyone with young children needs to be very careful about admitting to feeling suicidal.
Hey just a quick question if you don’t mind, I haven’t gotten to the point of having to apply for insurance policies yet, but what do they disqualify on? Is it really common? I now I’ve been hospitalized for being depressed and suicidal before, so would they know all that and stop me from getting coverage?
It depends on numerous factors: the rules of the insurance company, what type of policy you are applying for, how far back in your history they go, whether you’re getting it through work, porting it from work, buying it privately, taking advantage of a special offer, etc. You simply have to shop around and ask questions because there is such a variety.
Do you live in the United States? The laws concerning life insurance policies vary from state to state, so do your research or ask an attorney.
Couple of typos – sorry
I’ve had hundreds of attempts in my life most people don’t know about. The one time i was hospitalized I didn’t have to go to the mental ward. Things have been getting progressively worse since i was born.
I’ve had a fair amount of tries, but i’ve only been hospitalized one time, because whenever i failed i usually patched up myself and my family never realized something is wrong (actually i think they’re just so used to it that they just ignore it). The time i was in the hospital was not that bad actually, other than vomiting so much that i ended up puking blood after a couple of hours (plus charcoal, which was given to me to neutralize the pills i took).
Regarding how i felt by not being successful… it’s bittersweet, because even if i wanted to succeed i just couldn’t imagine seeing my grandmother in more pain than she was already (she took me to the hospital and watched me puke for hours). I did come out of there with the resolution of at least hanging on until she passes away, to save her from more suffering (a resolution that i almost broke… but that’s another story).
As for the stay in the hospital… everyone was really nice, and i had a couple of appointments with shrinks, which were nice too… but tbh i just told them what they wanted to hear and they ate it up after a couple of sessions (otherwise i would have ended on a mental institution for some time). I got discharged after a week, and it was kinda weird, since being surrounded by sick people and in a different environment did make my suicidal thoughts go away for a while.
Friends… lost them before getting there (the real ones at least), family… took it pretty good all things considered, my ex gf… started treating me even worse than before (she had broke up with me recently) and a couple of weeks later she ended up using it against me in social media and everyone that we knew saw it (she did it in order to play the victim and cover up that she lied + cheated on me and used my family for a place to live), my employer never knew (temp job, so it was easy to cover it up), i have no co-workers.
As for the aftermath… well, i did end up with more health issues (i already had several to begin with), nothing has improved and some things are worse, but after a while i did convince myself to keep my resolution of waiting until my grandmother dies. Mentally speaking i still see no sense on carrying on after i fulfill that promise, so i’d say the only good things that came out of it are: 1.- knowing what method i’ll end up using when the time comes, 2.- realizing that my ex could be a freaking scumbag when she wanted/needed (which made it easier to start letting go), 3.- the fact that the hospital trip + overdose + meds helped to turn my life into a surreal mess that enabled my mind to just zone out of my major sources of pain for at least a month (better than nothing i guess).
Sorry for the long post and awful redaction, kinda hard to keep up with my thoughts when i recall all of that, heh.
I was working as a Correctional Officer and they found out I had overdosed and another officer noticed the stitches in my forearm so I was made to see a departmental Psychiatrist and was taken off armed posts which meant I lost money because I was not allowed to work in any area that required me to carry a firearm. I was treated as a joke with everyone joking about me killing the entire Jail.
The one strange thing was that I was actually treated with more respect by the inmates, maybe they felt that I was just as crazy as them. It was very common for inmates to cut their wrists and they seemed to relate better to me when I had more scars than they did.
I hated being in the Psych Hospital. I only tolerated one night and told my Psychiatrist that if I was made to stay there that I would kill myself in the hospital. He signed me out that day. My social phobia was really bad at the time and they had me in a room with 3 other guys which made me worse.
I found the police to be assholes. They threatened to arrest me if I didn’t go voluntarily to a Psych Hospital when I had 5 police cars surround my car in a local beach car park. Seeing a roadside billboard triggered me to cut and I had slashed both forearms and another driver saw me covered in blood, driving my car.
The Police got nasty telling me that I should have more respect for the general public and that I should not attempt suicide or self harm out in public because seeing someone covered in blood freaks people out. They told me to attempt suicide or self harm in the privacy of my own home where I wont freak out members of the public.
Its ironic the police say that. The way you have been treated makes me disgusted. Now the public would deserve to see what disgusting really is! Their behaviour!!! That’s pretty selfish of the police to do that, only care about themselves and other people. Um, someone has tried to kill themself but they don’t seem to fucking care. ‘Blood freaking other people out’ is more important to them. Did I just mention someone, a human being, tried to commit suicide? This is disgraceful
They sent 5 Police cars with 8 Officers to check me out after they got a call about a guy covered in blood driving along the road. I really think they were expecting to find some crazed serial killer or something. I think they were disappointed that I didn’t have a few dismembered bodies in my car with me. That’s probably why they got nasty.
7 officers surrounded my car and stood back with their hands on their guns while 1 Officer approached my window with his hand on his bright yellow taser. I should have lunged at him. Could have gone out in a huge blaze.
Man, that really sucks. It’s really depressing how there’s all this talk about acceptance and shit in popular media right now, but when it comes down to it, everyone just wants to be able to turn a blind eye.
I’ve dealt with a couple of officers who were fairly nice, but you can tell that when they’re interacting with you, they view you as some kind of freak of nature because they don’t treat you quite the same way they would treat another person they interact with. It’s like as soon as you have the label on you, you’re screwed over because suddenly, no one really wants to hear your side of the story. You’re always a risk, and everybody else is telling the truth because that’s the quickest way to get you out of the picture, and therefore out of their sight.
And love your icon Mike, Simon’s cat is awesome! Never fails to cheer me up a little, though it does make me wish I could have a pet.
… a long time ago I’ve tried to poison myself with insect spray. Didn’t work too well, in fact it prob harmed my brain… Hmm
I’ve had about so many suicide attempts one might think even death doesn’t want me. However, none of my attempts were known to anyone but me. So, sorry I can’t help you with most of the questions since I didn’t go to the hospital nor had a health evaluation. In the first two, I cut my wrist then sat there in the closed bathroom waiting, for an end. The only thing that stopped me from actual going through with that final cut was that my mom came home and I didn’t want her to be the one to find me. The third I tried to take my grandmother’s pills, I took whatever was left in the bottle which were about 15 to 20 pills but somehow that wasn’t enough to kill me. I just started vomtting and having really bad stomach ache which I passed off as a bad period day. The other times were similar but in the end I always gave up on dying. Maybe, because I don’t want to die.
Did it get better ? No, it didn’t. For me atleast. Because my first attempt was 3 years ago. And I still consider it untill this day.
I tried to use the “bad period day” excuse but it didn’t work. But since I say a bunch of crazy stuff all the time I get ignored.
11: hung myself from a doorframe. I was too tall. 12: ate a bottle of asprin. Vomit! 15: too scared to pull trigger on revolver. Accidentally discharged. Peed on self. 17: tried to drink self to death. Passed out. 20s: drove car like a madman. Many accidents which took all my money. 30s: tried to coke myself to death. As in soda. Gained weight. 40s: tried to smoke myself to death. Coughed alot. 55: gave away all my possessions, dug my own grave, made an exit bag. Decided to live.
No hospitalizations. Tried about 6 therapists but never stuck with it more than four or five sessions. SSRIs work well with me so I bribed various docs to write scripts for me from 1994 to today. Usually on meds for four years and then take two years off. Rinse. Repeat.
Even if it took u a while I’m glad you decided to live eventually 🙂
Let me throw in my 2 cents, NO, let’s make that a well rounded figure of$25,000!
I’ve attempted suicide 5 definite times in my life.
First time I was 18 and took an overdose of Benadryl, only enough to get a trip to the hospital, charcoal to help with whatever it does, oh and I got to sleep for about 2 days straight! Yah!
The 2nd was with carbon monoxide from the car in the garage, closed everything up, slept for 8 hours only to wake with a huge headache, nobody knew.
3rd was the same as the 2nd, cept this time I decided I need to sleep closer to the tailpipe, so I got out the ole air mattress, blew it up and went to sleep with the tailpipe right in my face. Again I wake up 8 hrs. later with a huge headache.
4th time I steal a pistol from a friend of mine, and I think it out really well. right! Let’s face it, I’m a coward! Only the family stopped me, no law involved but did a week or so after that checked into a mental ward at the local hospital. Stay was 3 days, given some zombie pills, and oh yea how could I forget the after care of seeing a shrink for about 3 months. Ah heaven! I was healed, yea right!
5th time, well I really did put some thought into this one. I was taking some prescribed medication for back spasms/pain. I stopped taking them about a week into it. Then waited til time for a refill (30 days), so now I have about 50 pills or so. I waited til my wife (now ex wife) wasn’t scheduled to be home until late that night. It took me several hours to find the muster up the courage, so about 2 that afternoon I took them all at one time. Unfortunately my wife had come home early, and I won’t bore you with the whole story but let me say it was god that made her, OK right!
Maybe a few more hours and I would have found success. I was found, pissed myself, literally. Hauled off to the hospital, and no idea of what was done for me there. Two days later low and behold a deputy walks into my room and says I’m here to take you for a ride! Oh boy, maybe I can hang my head out the window with my tongue hanging out? Nope, I’m cuffed and hauled out like a prisoner, oh in a wheelchair of course. Next stop……MENTAL HOSPITAL!
Now I’m sure you’ve heard “same shit, different day, well this was same shit, different hospital. Again with the zombie pills, group therapy. And who the hell wants to sit in front of a bunch of damn strangers and tell all you’re lives failures? OK, your healed, hit the revolving door!
You know, now that I sit here and write this I’m thinking maybe the zombie pills are to make it bearable for you to sit there locked up like in prison for a week. Maybe?
So how did this affect my friends and family? I had one brother out of 3 that cared enough. Cared so much he took me in when I had no place to go and helped me get back on my feet. And I got to throw this in….the pastor of the church I attended lived right next door (small community church) and never once came by or over to see how I was doing. And I really thought he was a friend, along with the church members. WOW!
NUMBER 6……yet to be determined
goodbye cruel world…… and with that I vision a tricket or what not of a man flushing down the toilet
Cold shoulder from the pastor? Wow. He’s gonna have some ‘splainin to do to Mister Jesus Horatio Christ.
Your story was appealing and entertaining. Damn autocorrect… APPALLING!
Hurray for your nice brother. I have no sibs and I’ve always wondered what that was like.