Friday, February 3, 2023

Tag: Suicide Attempt Survivors

FSU Survey for Suicide Attempt Survivors

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From Florida State University: "Are you a suicide attempt survivor? Researchers at Florida State University have teamed up to better understand the psychological and...

Deadly Serious: Talking Openly About Suicide

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The suicide crisis is real. The pain is real. The deaths are real. None of us can afford to stick our heads in the sand and pretend that this isn't happening. But the helplessness and confusion about what to do about it are also real. And that's why peer relationships and peer-developed modalities can be so helpful. Many of us have been there and are still alive to talk about it. We know what ways of relating gave us hope and helped us to continue on.

Hegemonic Sanity and Suicide

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The “good” suicide attempt survivor wakes up in a hospital bed bathed in beautiful natural light, surrounded by the people who love them most, and they realize that their thinking was flawed and all those unsolvable problems can actually be solved if they are just compliant with medication and therapy. And then there's the “bad” suicide attempter who is angry that they lived, who challenges the status quo.

A Cry

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In this piece for Me, Myself and Disability, suicide attempt survivor Chris Coombs challenges the common misconception that people who attempt suicide always regret it and...

Six Ways You Can Really Help Prevent Suicide

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The first time I tried to kill myself, I was 14. I won’t go into the indignity of being involuntarily locked up, time after time, until I satisfactorily convinced the staff that I wouldn’t harm myself or attempt suicide again. (I was lying.) The system taught me to lie, to hide my suicidal feelings in order to escape yet another round of dehumanizing lock-ups and “treatments.”

Twenty Years Since My Last Suicide Attempt: Reflections

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It has been twenty years since my last suicide attempt. I was barely eighteen years old, and had already spent the last four years, my entire adolescence, really, in and out of the mental health system. On that day, twenty years ago, I left the hospital with nothing but a prescription for yet another drug in my hand, sent back to the decrepit group home where I began my adult life.