I know you meant well...however...

Been There...

Two years ago, I suffered from a debilitating depression. When I say debilitating, I mean barely functioning, can't get out of bed, crying incessantly, can't eat, inconsolable (not that anyone could get close anyway because I was barricaded in my bedroom), wanting to kill myself kind of depression. Now, I know that's hard for some people to read and comprehend but as the holidays approach, I feel compelled to talk about it again - not for my own cleansing and closure (I'm still here, so I'm good) but for the sake of others who have no words to express what they are feeling and cannot make others understand. It's hard enough being depressed but then to have to explain it to others who just don't get it...and to be loving and generous when you have NOTHING is nearly impossible. So, the following is an excerpt from a message that I sent to a loved one who made a well-meaning comment on social media after attending the funeral of a person who committed suicide:

This is a reaction to a Facebook post that has my hands shaking my heart pounding and my head throbbing as I drive down Route 73 on this otherwise beautiful sunny day.

Beloved, it makes me angry when people think that being suicidal can be remedied by talking to "everyone" or "someone". If the listeners were actually available to HEAR us when we're talking about what's going on and what is leading us to consider suicide in the first place, then perhaps that suggestion might work. It is utterly offensive to me that people think that simply finding 'someone' to talk to will solve the problem. I had plenty of people to talk to including ones I paid to talk to but that didn't solve the 'problem'. I even talked to Jesus but that didn't easily and readily solve the 'problem' either.

The darkness surrounding suicidal thoughts is thick, consuming, frightening and overbearing and most "friends" can't handle going there with you for fear that it might leak off of us and consume them too.

I realize that people do mean well however, understanding mental illness goes far beyond telling people who were sick to talk to people who are well.

We don't want to talk to you people! Do you know why? Because you treat us like we are children with a scraped knee instead of like the triage cases we are at that point. Hello! I don't have a scraped knee. I have a severed limb! And bless your hearts, you try your uninformed best with your "get over it" or "cheer up" (and my personal favorite - "I was depressed last week too" - No, YOU had a bad day! I have an illness!! But we can't say those things because they're considered inappropriate.) and after hearing that repeatedly (from loved ones who are closest to us or who claim to know us best) we simply decide to stop talking to people who say stupid shit. (excuse me, I mean well-meaning but useless words). Do you seriously think we haven't tried talking to people? Do you seriously think we just sat here in silence picking at a wound until the gangrene took over and we had no other choice but to cut the limb off? Is that REALLY what you think? I just don't understand why it is so difficult for people who live normal lives to make room for the possibility that there is another way of life out here in the age of the Google search and smart-phones.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful or negative - I just want you to understand what it feels like in the day to day existence in the kind depression that leads to suicide. I have to advocate for those who have no voice in the conversation but are expected to "talk to someone".

Those who have never been there think we are selfish. You've got to have a sense of self to be selfish. For some, by the time we get to that place, it looks like an act of pure ego, but it's really quite the opposite. Hubris has become homeless at that point.

I'm one of the blessed ones because I survived my own suicidal thoughts and attempts. I made it through my own indescribable darkness.

I did not survive because I had someone to talk to per se. Talking to a professional and to loved ones is but one part of a larger treatment for a whole body illness.

I survived because sisters and friends came and put their hands on me and heard me and worked hard enough to know me and love me when I was extremely difficult to love and extremely resistant to it as well. They pushed their way into my foxhole and dragged me out and did not let me go until I remembered myself. (Remember that scene from "The Women of Brewster Place" (the movie) when Mattie pulls Ceil out of the bed and bathes her, braids her hair, puts pajamas on her, and force feeds her...yeah, it was like that.)

I survived because I was forced to get medical attention because this thing was bigger than 'talk' and I was out of words anyway. I survived because I had people holding me accountable for taking the prescribed medication until such time that I did not have to use it anymore.

I survived because there is a gift of writing that allows me to say to people do not discount those who are truly clinically depressed and using that gift reminds me of the dragon that waits to be slain every day - whether in my life or in the life of others.

I will not allow you to use your widely respected influence on social media to simply say, "If you are considering suicide find someone to talk to."

It sounds harsh but it's like when Malcolm X told the white girl there was nothing she could do for the movement. It's bigger than your well meaning heart’s desire to "help". Helping is usually more work than people imagine when they "sign up" for the committee. Life saving is long hard work and you have to be built for it. It ain't for everyone. And believe it or not, we won't hold it against you if you can't sign up for the tour of duty. But please stop telling us to talk to someone...decide whether you can be that someone and go from there. I've written before that loving someone who is depressed and/or suicidal is like hugging a porcupine. We're most hurtful towards others when we feel like we are in danger...which is every moment of every day.

So, thank you, love, for caring enough to say something. Now, I pray that as you speak, you will speak as an informed advocate and not just as a well-meaning but uninformed soul.


For those who are voiceless, I pray. For those in the darkness, I'm shining a light. For those who crossed over...rest in peace. Shalom...