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attempts do not count so all I can say is everybody has their own cross to bear what to feel about it feel lucky that you are alive and the other person is not thats all there is to it it does not matter who goes the world remains a better place for there is more for those who are left which is changing quite rapidly but you get the idea
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One attempt by a friend, and another successful one by a high school friend. He seemed to have it all going for him, from what I heard. But the common thread was the stress of midlife, I suppose. Both had families, which surprised me. I cannot imagine doing that to my kids, but I suppose when a person gets that low, they do not reason things through.
Working in mental health, I've unfortunately known a number of people who completed suicides. I'm glad that this has not happened with any close friends or family.
I had a weird encounter with a suicide that affected me more than I ever thought it could, because it was a total stranger. A few years ago, in 2008, I was coming back from a professional conference on an Amtrak train, and I was in the very first car. We ran over what felt like wooden boards, like maybe someone had left a wooden pallet on the tracks as a prank. It was like a crunching, grinding right under my feet and my seat. The train stopped within a couple miles of the crashing/crunching noise, and they announced that the train had struck "a trespasser" and we would be detained because it was now a crime scene, and they'd have to send another train for us.
That crunching that we ran over was a person.
I just got tears in my eyes when typing that, even after several years.
In subsequent days I researched online and learned about the person--a well-loved college student from Rutgers. There were online articles about him, facebook memorials, etc, about what a truly wonderful guy he was, and how he had not let anyone know how he was feeling. I felt like I knew him and had lost someone I cared about. I almost got a little obsessed with learning everything about him that I could. I also go a little obsessed with researching how train drivers/ engineers deal with this--when a person uses them as an instrument of their own suicide, and there's nothing the engineer can do about it. Evidently it happens so much, they have procedures for it, and it becomes almost routine for some, but some have PTSD from it.
I guess what I learned from that experience is that even though this was not a person I knew and loved, I was still affected deeply by his suicide, since I was involved in his death. I still shudder and get a sinking feeling in my stomach when I run over something in my car and get that crunching, thumping sensation. Like a flashback.
...I guess what I learned from that experience is that even though this was not a person I knew and loved, I was still affected deeply by his suicide, since I was involved in his death. I still shudder and get a sinking feeling in my stomach when I run over something in my car and get that crunching, thumping sensation. Like a flashback.
I had a similar experience when I was 22. I had moved to NYC and was working a night shift in midtown. One night I was waiting on the platform, almost alone...there were two or three people much farther along on the platform.
I could feel the air rushing, which means a train is approaching, and I could see its lights up in the dark tunnel. We were on the most underground level, down a flight of cement steps. I heard someone running down - obviously aware from the rush of wind that sucks through the station that the train was almost there - lots of folks come barrelling down the stairs at that point. Suddenly a guy rushed out of the stairway, ran up fairly close to me and looked up into the tunnel. The train was just entering. He jumped onto the track, curled up facing the direction of the train, and put his head across the rail with his folded hands under it, as if he were going to sleep. The trainman slammed on his brakes, but in a couple of seconds the train passed over the man.
It was a short train. And the man's faceless, virtually headless body had been dragged down in front of me.
I was stunned almost beyond registering it. Someone ran down the platform, grabbed me and kept saying, "Are you all right, are you all right."
The police came and I was the only witness, other than the wretched trainman. Finally I could go to work...on the same train as I recall.
At work another cop or two came to interview me again.
At five a.m. or so I am back home. The phone rings. It is yet another cop. Can he talk to me. OK. But he wants to go down to the train station with me. So, at 5:30 I had to go down and go through it on the spot.
I worked for a newspaper, so I tried to follow up. All I found was a tiny little filler on a back page. The man was middle-aged. Literally, a nobody. As I recall it now he had his name and address on him, but it turned out to be a rooming house in our rather shabby neighbourhood. Single man, no ID in the apartment, the landlord knew nothing about him.
The actual visual event lost its impact far more rapidly than I ever would have expected. But the fact that the man was a nobody, a cipher, a zero who lived only a couple of grubby blocks from me hung on and hung on for quite awhile.
Another time, about four years later, I was going to have dinner with a friend, and the subway platform filled up and filled up and no trains were moving. I ran upstairs and caught a taxi after about twenty minutes. The cab driver told me that the trains were stopped on that line because someone had jumped in front of the train farther on down the line. When I got to my friend's place, I explained why I was late.
The next day or the day after he called me. The person who jumped was a friend of his, and someone whom I knew casually. A very young guy in his twenties.
Many years later someone I knew better committed suicide. I joined a discussion group in the early Nineties, and was not especially pleased to find that someone I knew from my old neighbourhood was in it. His name was Hal, and he was a thoroughly disagreeable person, with a knack for antagonizing one and all.
He turned out to be better behaved than when I had known him uptown, though still a difficult person. After a few months he announced that he had had an annoying pain in his lower back and had gone to the doctor. There had been various imaging and tests. He had a large, late-stage cancer. He decided that he had no intention of dragging on to the end, but would end his life at a point where he felt that he was no longer enjoying it. At each meeting he would report on how he was doing, and sometimes it would be discussed if he presented it that way.
Some more time passed, and at one meeting he announced that the day had arrived. He bid everyone an individual goodbye, and went home. He killed himself that night or the next.
The group, by the way, was for men who had just retired or were about to.
I could never warm to Hal, his abrasiveness kept me too much on guard. He also annoyed virtually every guy in the group, but I don't recall any real rows. He was so demanding and easily put out that I could not imagine him having anything but a hellish time dying, and being very hard on anyone who was trying to help him. It was uncomfortable to sit there with a man who was one day going to extinguish his life, but I could not imagine Hal living it out. And having by that point seeing a number of people die linger deaths, did not move me to discourage him at all. On that last day I felt very uncomfortable that I could not like him - still, but I also hoped that he would be successful for his own sake.
I learned later that he had left meticulous instructions for his funeral service, including a list of those who were to speak...and he had written a speech for each one of them to give. I think he made the right move there too.
Working in mental health, I've unfortunately known a number of people who completed suicides. I'm glad that this has not happened with any close friends or family.
I had a weird encounter with a suicide that affected me more than I ever thought it could, because it was a total stranger. A few years ago, in 2008, I was coming back from a professional conference on an Amtrak train, and I was in the very first car. We ran over what felt like wooden boards, like maybe someone had left a wooden pallet on the tracks as a prank. It was like a crunching, grinding right under my feet and my seat. The train stopped within a couple miles of the crashing/crunching noise, and they announced that the train had struck "a trespasser" and we would be detained because it was now a crime scene, and they'd have to send another train for us.
That crunching that we ran over was a person.
I just got tears in my eyes when typing that, even after several years.
In subsequent days I researched online and learned about the person--a well-loved college student from Rutgers. There were online articles about him, facebook memorials, etc, about what a truly wonderful guy he was, and how he had not let anyone know how he was feeling. I felt like I knew him and had lost someone I cared about. I almost got a little obsessed with learning everything about him that I could. I also go a little obsessed with researching how train drivers/ engineers deal with this--when a person uses them as an instrument of their own suicide, and there's nothing the engineer can do about it. Evidently it happens so much, they have procedures for it, and it becomes almost routine for some, but some have PTSD from it.
I guess what I learned from that experience is that even though this was not a person I knew and loved, I was still affected deeply by his suicide, since I was involved in his death. I still shudder and get a sinking feeling in my stomach when I run over something in my car and get that crunching, thumping sensation. Like a flashback.
So sorry that you experienced this. How awful. Hard to fathom why a young kid with a life before them would do such a thing.
Many years later someone I knew better committed suicide. I joined a discussion group in the early Nineties, and was not especially pleased to find that someone I knew from my old neighbourhood was in it. His name was Hal, and he was a thoroughly disagreeable person, with a knack for antagonizing one and all.
He turned out to be better behaved than when I had known him uptown, though still a difficult person. After a few months he announced that he had had an annoying pain in his lower back and had gone to the doctor. There had been various imaging and tests. He had a large, late-stage cancer. He decided that he had no intention of dragging on to the end, but would end his life at a point where he felt that he was no longer enjoying it. At each meeting he would report on how he was doing, and sometimes it would be discussed if he presented it that way.
Some more time passed, and at one meeting he announced that the day had arrived. He bid everyone an individual goodbye, and went home. He killed himself that night or the next.
The group, by the way, was for men who had just retired or were about to.
I could never warm to Hal, his abrasiveness kept me too much on guard. He also annoyed virtually every guy in the group, but I don't recall any real rows. He was so demanding and easily put out that I could not imagine him having anything but a hellish time dying, and being very hard on anyone who was trying to help him. It was uncomfortable to sit there with a man who was one day going to extinguish his life, but I could not imagine Hal living it out. And having by that point seeing a number of people die linger deaths, did not move me to discourage him at all. On that last day I felt very uncomfortable that I could not like him - still, but I also hoped that he would be successful for his own sake.
I learned later that he had left meticulous instructions for his funeral service, including a list of those who were to speak...and he had written a speech for each one of them to give. I think he made the right move there too.
For all his abrasiveness and controlling nature, Hal was a classic "rational suicide" and he is to be respected for having his affairs in order and deciding for himself what his own quality of life was. He was not whining and whimpering and asking for sympathy, he simply didn't want to suffer or be dependent and he was handling it in a straightforward and matter of fact way -- at least as you tell the story.
Writing eulogies for people to give about you is rather presumptuous though ... at least, if it is anything other than a helpful suggestion ;-)
I would not worry about your inability to like him or want to beg him to stay or to in some way ease his passing. He was not, I suspect, really asking for any of those things. You and the group gave him what he came there for, a bit of human contact and a place to share.
The only unfortunate part is that society will encourage people to put down suffering pets and shame pet owners for being self absorbed if they don't, yet they will not assist in the same way for fellow humans. Hal doubtless had to do it alone, so as not to risk endangering anyone of legal troubles, and he had to accept that he might botch it and make matters far worse than they already were. It is surprisingly hard to kill yourself in anything resembling a painless or peaceful manner, and drug overdoses are far less sure than people like to think they are. I hope he did his research.
My dad committed suicide when I was six years old. I didn't know at the time how he died. My grandparents told my sister and I for my mom that he died. I think they told us he fell from the attic in the back garage. We had a garage in the backyard and it had an attic in it, he used to hang out up there all the time. I always knew he died up there, but I don't remember them telling me that but they must have. Whenever kids asked me how he died when I was younger, I told them he had fallen from the attic because the boards were loose.
My mom didn't tell me the truth until I was about 11 or 12. And it really depressed me. It always bothered me to lose my dad at a young age, but it bothered me even more to find out that he did it on purpose and not by accident. I don't know what was going on in his mind, but he obviously didn't want to stay and see me grow up. I don't the reason why he did it either. Some people have told me he was stressed, but there has to be a lot more to then just being stressed. A lot of people get stressed and they don't just kill themselves over it. He obviously had a lot of issues. I know that my mom and dad never wanted to get married. They only got married because my mom got pregnant with me. My mom already had my sister with a different guy, so they got married so she wouldn't have to raise two kids on her own. So I often wonder if it had something to do with the stress of being married with kids he didn't want and being in a relationship he didn't want. I don't know why he didn't just walk out then. It would have been better than killing himself.
It's something I think about a lot, almost everyday even though it's been 21 years since he died and 15 years since I found out how he died.
I also used to have thoughts of doing it all the time because of how ugly I am. I don't think about it as often now because I don't want my mom and sister to go through another suicide and my life is a little bit better than it used to be. I don't get made fun of for being ugly as much and people in this city seem to treat me better than my old home town.
My mother committed suicide successfully in 2012, three days before Thanksgiving. The method she used was a very peaceful quick way to go. She committed suicide because she no longer wanted to be here. While I honestly believe she was sick and not in her right mind at the time she did it, I also don't necessarily think she was crazy or completely off base for her decision. Later on, we were told she most likely developed schizophrenia(late onset), which I'm now not completely sure is accurate. At the time a lot of what she said and did, the year or two prior to her death did not make sense to me and did seem like the actions of a very disturbed human being... I won't go into some of the things that went on leading to her death, but by the time she passed away, we all had been aware that it was only a matter of time before she did it. It wasn't like she was even trying to surprise us, her actions, her words, etc led us know months prior that it was going to happen. Just a matter of when.
There were a lot of reasons I believe she did it, but it isn't important, the reality is that she did not want to be here anymore. And she was ready to be done and did it. I don't think it was selfish or wrong, or anything other than a decision--that she made. I look at most decisions, drastic, permanent, temporary, minor, major as decisions point blank. And why I understand the need to know why someone makes certain decision, I look at the outcome and that also tells me what I need to know. If a person committed suicide, they most likely were not in the right state of mind(this typically is the case) on a deeper level, but on a surface level they are doing it because they don't want to be here anymore...
I've attempted suicide different points in my life, and it was always because I was no longer interested in life. Sometimes I had a very good reason(deep pain, feeling of alone, wanting to just be done with the rituals of living), other times probably chemical.. I know the truth about why I'm here and what will happen once I'm gone. That understanding helped me immensely in the beginning stages after my mom passed. I also thought of her legacy--the woman she was, the ideas, beliefs, and things she did in her life, how great of a parent she was, etc, and I carried the MOST profound things she said and did, and all the wisdom she had ever given me and I constantly fall back on it. It's my connection to her. I don't feel like she is gone(from this realm yes) so I don't feel like I've lost her spiritually, and emotionally, but physically I do miss her and wish she was here.
I can honestly say that it has touched my life in negative and positive ways. I found my mothers body, so I suppose that was traumatizing. Yet I'm at peace with it, and as a person who struggled with depression and different points in my life where I contemplated suicide, I have understanding in her action. On a deeper level, I wonder if that too will be the way I pass away, since like my mom I've made multiple attempts and do not see suicide as a sin, or as something horrible--but just as a decision.
Last edited by Faith2187; 02-25-2014 at 07:19 PM..
My ex fiancé. He was 21 years old when he put a gun in his mouth. We were just kids, but he was my first real love. I knew he had mental instabilities, possibly undiagnosed bipolar or schizophrenia, but I was too young and inexperienced to know how to help him.
It was 10 years ago at thanksgiving, and it has haunted me every single day. It has resulted in many bad decisions in men, including a short marriage to an abusive alcoholic. I think it damaged me beyond all repair. I've been in counseling on and off over the years, but its something that will always be a part of me.
I attended a dance school that was owned and run by a husband and wife. They were both my teachers for several years, then had a very messy divorce and broke up the school. He shot himself. My dad called me at work to tell me.
A good friend's stepfather shot himself in front of her mother.
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for there is more for those who are left which is changing quite rapidly but you get the idea 