The Act and Follow-through of Suicide: Wrap-Up

I’ve always found it annoying when people say a suicide attempt is
"a cry for help." And the best one — "She’s just looking for
attention." I ran into that quite a bit in high school.

While a suicidal person may not realize it (I certainly didn’t), a suicide attempt is a cry for help. It’s  an action that says "I’ve come to my breaking point. I’ve run out of options
and I don’t know what else to do. My problems are too much for me to
handle and the only way out of them is to die." Suicide is the action
which stem from thoughts that likely were never verbalized.

The majority of people who commit or attempt suicide aren’t just
seeking to die "just because."

…[T]wo doctors who are among the most often-cited experts on suicide…readily acknowledged the high degree of impulsivity associated with [jumping], but also considered that impulsivity as simply another symptom of mental illness. “Of all the hundreds of jumping suicides I’ve looked at,” one told me, “I’ve yet to come across a case where a mentally healthy person was walking across a bridge one day and just went over the side. It just doesn’t happen. There’s almost always the presence of mental illness somewhere.”

They feel as though they truly have "run
out of options" and ending their life is the least favorite backup
plan. The common thread that runs through all suicides is hopelessness.

So to wrap this series up, is it possible to prevent someone  from committing or attempting suicide?

Suicide

I’d like to say, “Been there, done that,” but it’s not something I’m proud to dismiss. February 14, 1997 was the first time I attempted suicide: I tried to jump off a fourth-story balcony. But I’m a drama queen and like standard drama queen fare, I called my pals and left them goodbye messages. People call it a cry for help; I just can’t leave this world without saying goodbye. (I liken it to leaving home for a long trip in another continent You’d say goodbye to those you love and would miss.) It’s become a bad (or perhaps, good) pattern that has kept me alive. I’ve tried jumping out of cars, swallowing pills, slashing, stabbing, drowning, suffocating — and barely stopped short of hanging. I got as far as a chair and a noose until I couldn’t bear to imagine my father walk in the door from work to see his only child hanging from the ceiling fan in the hallway.
I’m not happy to admit all this, but people can learn a lesson from a life as varied as mine. I’ve been to the depths of desolation and desperation and I know the feeling of not being able to “go on” or even wanting to “go on.”