In light of suicide prevention week (and coincidentally a portion of my current studies for a near-future exam), here are some behavioral warning signs:
- Change in eating/sleeping habits
- Drug and alcohol use
- Unusual neglect of personal appearance
- Marked personality change
- Loss of interest in pleasurable activities
- Not tolerating praise or rewards
- Giving away belongings
- Isolation from others
- Taking care of legal issues
- Dramatic increase in mood (might have made the decision to end their lives)
- Verbal threats to commit suicide or feelings of despair/hopelessness
If you're worried about someone, asking them if they're thinking about suicide will not inspire or cause suicide. On the contrary, it will help them feel okay about their feelings or encourage them to open up about it to you. Then, you can direct them to the suicide prevention hotline or a mental health professional. If they tell you they have a plan and intent to go through with it, call 911.
Back in the day, I saw her "I want to kill myself" comments as a joke. Perhaps a lot of them were. I knew she was struggling with insomnia, but I didn't even know what it meant to have difficulty sleeping. I knew she had social conflicts in college, and that she felt close and connected when she told me about it. But she was always just silly, entertaining, beautiful Joyce to me, who would always be there waiting for me when I came back to California. I said "no" to her pleas to spend time with me, like I do to a lot of my friends. I know it's not my fault, but I just wish I knew better to even be concerned.
About a month ago, I felt that I finally mourned her, evolved from the grief that was sitting dormant for 8 years.
It came like a hurricane. It shook me, distracted me, zoned me out. That day, I just kept thinking about Joyce, kept crying, kept looking back at everything I have related to her-- IMs, emails, Facebook messages, looking at old photos. I hadn't really given myself this much time to reflect on her since she died. Even though I thought I processed all of it, it was evident I had not. Time simply made it easier to feel less guilty about her suicide.
The part about her death that I had not fully processed up this point, I think is what came up for me last month: that what I'm feeling-- this wistful, longing for a connection like Joyce's, remorse for taking her adoration for me for granted-- is all useless. There is nothing I can do about it. I've lost my chance, I've lost Joyce.
But in reflecting on our conversations and her reverence for me, I can say I am happy that someone loved me the way she did.
It came like a hurricane. It shook me, distracted me, zoned me out. That day, I just kept thinking about Joyce, kept crying, kept looking back at everything I have related to her-- IMs, emails, Facebook messages, looking at old photos. I hadn't really given myself this much time to reflect on her since she died. Even though I thought I processed all of it, it was evident I had not. Time simply made it easier to feel less guilty about her suicide.
The part about her death that I had not fully processed up this point, I think is what came up for me last month: that what I'm feeling-- this wistful, longing for a connection like Joyce's, remorse for taking her adoration for me for granted-- is all useless. There is nothing I can do about it. I've lost my chance, I've lost Joyce.
But in reflecting on our conversations and her reverence for me, I can say I am happy that someone loved me the way she did.
