Guest blog: An Artist's Story
Yvonne is a Brighton-based artist who was our keynote speaker at our World Suicide Prevention Day event on 10th September 2013. This is her story.
“It seems that due to
experiences in my life I have become some kind of expert, some kind of
authority on communicating a particular story to people; a story about
depression, about mental health and about suicide.
My father was very ill
with depression and was in so much pain for so many years.
I was 13 years old when
he attempted suicide. I watched him stagger around the kitchen vomiting in the
sink, after taking an overdose.
I have another memory of
when he refused treatment. I saw him being strapped into a chair and wheeled
into an ambulance outside our house as he refused to go willingly.
I was 18 when he died by
suicide. I came back to find a police car outside our house. My sister walked
down the drive and told me “Dad’s dead”.
He had “done something silly”.
The world became an unreal
place, I remember thinking; ‘this isn’t
happening to me, this happens in films or on TV’.
Some people shunned us,
but others stuck around. This is when I learnt to tell my story and to say ‘My Dad committed suicide’, or the
preferred version, ‘My Dad took his own
life’.
We weren’t permitted to
have Dad’s funeral straight away, there were investigations, we were only
permitted photocopies of the suicide notes he left behind.
To commit suicide was a
criminal offense until the introduction of the Suicide Act in 1961. Even though it is no longer a crime the words
‘to commit’ have stuck. This is how I learnt about the stigma of living in a
family surrounded by suicide.
The story got easier to
tell as I became detached from telling it, but the reactions were no easier.
The word suicide may be acceptable
when used in a joke, but in the real world it can be too heavy for people to
cope with. I would feel it weighing down my sentences as I explained how my
father had died.
Like my father, I have
depression.
Like my father, I have
experienced suicidal thoughts.
Like my father, I have
attempted suicide. Unlike my father, I did not succeed.
In March 2012 two days
after my 37th birthday, I attempted suicide. I had taken a ‘serious
overdose’. Life had thrown me upside down.
I had gone from managing
my depression and trying to get off my medication, to being seriously depressed
and suicidal, in a few short months.
I hadn’t been suicidal
before. I didn’t know what it felt like or what signs to look out for.
Being suicidal meant my
mind was not just full to capacity, it was overflowing. There was no longer any
room to cope with anything. I was in so much mental distress and pain that the
thought of death was a relief. I didn’t see any danger in death. I saw it as
the only possible solution.
The overload on my brain
meant that other, normal functions didn’t work. I had very little idea of what
was going on and I was unaware of how much danger I was in.
I didn’t realise that I
was saying goodbye to people and organising my effects. I was giving away
things that I no longer needed. I was beginning to relax as I slowly ticked off
the list of things that I needed to do. It was practical and logical. We are
all going to die. I was just going to die that bit sooner.
I didn’t ‘complete’
suicide.
It took some 30 odd
years from when my father died to have one
new and very important word. Complete. Not commit.
I had a new way of
explaining suicide. I picked it up from working with professionals who had
learned Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training (ASIST) from Grassroots
Suicide Prevention.
I remember the joy when
Shauna from Rethink’s Survivors of Suicide group left a message, ‘cheerfully’ using the word suicide. One
of the key things I noticed when working with ASIST trained people was their
ability to use the word suicide freely and easily. I was greeted by people with
whom I could have a conversation, without the shock and fear that I had
experienced all my life. There was no stigma, there was no judgement. If I used
the word, they used it back. This was such a relief.
There was so much care
and attention given to each member of the Survivors of Suicide group. It was
heart warming. Within each session there was a safe and clear structure. We
were asked to check in at the beginning of each session on how we were feeling
and how our week had been. We had a session of open discussion about our
experiences with suicide. At the end of each session we were asked to checked
out with how we were going to look after ourselves that evening, our ‘self
care’. Talking openly about suicide can be extremely exhausting and we would
each say something we were going to do that would make us feel good; something
as simple as hot chocolate before bed, or watching something on TV.
Another specific detail
that I came to rely on was being asked “Are you safe to leave?” and “Do you
have a plan?”
In July 2013 I took the
ASIST training with Grassroots. It was the most amazing two days of training
that I have ever had. Normally I am someone who has to work hard at retaining
information, someone who sits back and lets other stronger more knowledgeable
people step forward.
In the world of suicide
I have experience, I have opinions and I have a voice. And this voice will be
heard! I couldn’t have stopped it if I had tried. Where others hesitated to use
the work suicide I used it immediately and without burden. I could speak about
it from more than one stand point; as one bereaved and as one who has attempted
and survived.
It is oddly empowering
and very weird that my darkest life experiences are now useful, like I'm some
kind of accidental expert who talks about things that are normally shut away.
Not only do I have the
ability to help others who feel suicidal, I can also apply suicide intervention
to myself. I can ask myself ‘am I feeling
suicidal?’ and if the answer is ‘Yes’
I now have plenty of ways to make sure I keep safe. The first thing on my list
is to tell someone.
The following words kept
me going through my recovery. They are something I found on the Grassroots
resources page. I read this and I cry with relief that somebody knew my
reality. Somebody knew how to explain it for the first time.
Suicide is
not chosen; it happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain (http://www.metanoia.org/suicide/).
That's all it's about. You are not a bad person,
or crazy, or weak, or flawed, because you feel suicidal. It doesn't even mean
that you really want to die - it only means that you have more pain than
you can cope with right now. If I start piling weights on your shoulders, you
will eventually collapse if I add enough weights... no matter how much you want
to remain standing. Willpower has nothing to do with it. Of course you would
cheer yourself up, if you could.”
To find out more about Grassroots Suicide
Prevention, and to learn about ASIST and other suicide prevention training
programmes, visit www.prevent-suicide.org.uk
If you are struggling with thoughts of
suicide and need to talk to someone, contact the Samaritans by phone 08457 90
90 90 or email jo@samaritans.org.
Yvonne J. Foster: http://bit.ly/1abYjkq
Rethink Survivors of Suicide Service: http://bit.ly/1abYdcC
