By Jess Stohlmann-Rainey
Photo by land[e]scape |
Suicide prevention has a problem. There are some really
important people whose voices are being left out. Some of the most important
people. The people who know what it is like to want to die, but choose to live.
The lived expertise of suicide attempt survivors has been
pathologized by the mental health community, and because of this it is often
treated as invalid, unreliable, uneducated, or otherwise ill-informed. The
production of knowledge in the field has come from one primary source: the
“objective” researcher. There are a number of concerns with this being the
primary source of knowledge production.
- Objectivity in research is a myth. The positionality of the observer impacts the way results are understood or interpreted. For example, most of the big names in suicidology are men. Men die by suicide much more frequently than women, and women attempt suicide much more frequently than men. As a field when we look at reducing the public health “burden’ of suicide, we look at reducing the number of deaths. This means that somehow, someone decided that the primary issue when it comes to suicide is suicide death. This puts the focus on reducing death and loss, not necessarily on changing, interrupting, or preventing the experience of suicidal intensity. Phrases like, “men bear the burden of suicide in the United States,” appear in public health documents and suicide prevention programs alike, but is that really the case? Would the women attempting suicide at four times the rate of men think that is true? Would their loved ones? Is the experience of suicidal intensity not a burden? Interpreting the meaning of numbers is almost certainly affected by the culture and identity of the person doing the interpreting.
- Research funding is not neutral or equitable. Funding institutions have interests and priorities that are propagated by their investments. Returning to the example above, if the knowledge being produced tells us that we ought to focus on reducing death as opposed to reducing suffering, funding institutions will invest their money into research and strategies designed to prevent death. While this is not necessarily a bad thing, it does leave a significant gap around the practice of alleviating suffering. This means that while suicidologists may agree that means restriction is one of the most effective ways of preventing death (that we know of), it may not have any impact on the things that matter most to the person who is actually experiencing suicidal intensity. If suicide prevention just means literally preventing a death from occurring, it may be missing the bigger and perhaps more important issue of existential suffering.
- Where and how research is conducted are also not neutral or equitable. The vast majority of research is conducted in one of two ways. First, on college campuses or the community immediately surrounding research institutions. This means that participants in research reflect the campus community, tending to be higher income, highly educated, white, etc. Second, through a paternalistic approach which positions the researcher as a savior or rescuer, removing all power and agency from the subject. This feeds directly into the issues of the pathologization of the experiences of suicide attempt survivors.
None of this means that all research is bad, that the
information we have is wrong, or that all research is conducted using these
approaches. It does mean that some very important knowledge is being left out:
the lived expertise of people who have considered and attempted suicide.
Photo by Luis Llerena |
Seeing this valuable perspective marginalized within the
field that is intended to support people experiencing suicidal intensity was
frustrating for me, both as a professional and as a suicide attempt survivor.
In 2015, the Carson J Spencer Foundation made a decision to put more emphasis
on suicide attempt survivors in our programming. This shift opened an
opportunity for me to develop programming by and for suicide attempt survivors.
The entire process of developing this program, from the
questions we asked in the needs assessment to the analysis of the information
collected has been completed by people who identify as suicide attempt
survivors. Through the needs assessment process, we found a set of common experiences
that participants felt were core components of their path to recovery.
Key Experiences
Five important categories of experience emerged consistently
from people’s stories. What we heard, over and over again in the more than
eighty interviews with suicide attempt survivors, is that the following
experiences needed to happen for them to identify themselves as in recovery.
Becoming Willing to Live
Most people think that all suicide
attempt survivors have this moment following a suicide attempt where they feel
like they made a huge mistake, they wanted to live all along. Based on our
interviews, some people had this type of experience, but it was more common for
people to give in to the idea of living. We heard things like: “I figured out that being alive wasn’t the
worst thing, even though it hurt...” and, “When I was in the hospital I was alone, in the corner with my dunce
cap like “you have to find a way to stop hurting yourself.” Becoming
willing to live is no easy process, and while it can be transformational for
people, it doesn’t change all the factors that contributed to people’s desire
to die. It is just the first step.
Finding Refuge
The next common experience was for
people to seek out sheltering, positive, nonjudgmental spaces to heal. Some
found physical spaces, like the participant who returned to her college town. “I went back to the town I went to college
in because It was the last place I remembered feeling good,” she said, even
though she didn’t know anyone who was still living there. Others found refuge
with people who felt supportive. Another participant said, “I lived with friends who were safe, loving, and supportive. It was so
much better than family.” Finding refuge is like laying the foundation for
the other parts of the process.
Participants felt significant
pressure to be silent about their experiences. They heard they should not talk
about it from mental health providers in group therapy, their families, their
friends, their doctors. Keeping their experience a secret was at best, annoying
or frustrating, and at worse, shaming and contributed to more acute suicidal
intensity. Telling was an important experience. One participant said, “It was
just burning on my tongue. I felt like I had this big secret and I couldn’t go
on keeping it. So I told. Then I couldn’t stop telling.” In The Transformationof Silence into Language and Action,
Audre
Lorde says “I have come to believe over and over again
that what is most important to me must be spoken… I was going to die, if not
sooner, then later, whether or not I had ever spoken myself. My silences had
not protected me. Your silence will not protect you.” All of the participants expressed the
sentiment that giving voice to experience was liberatory. One participant asserted,
”I felt so powerful when I finally talked
about it. Like I wasn’t a slave to my secret anymore.”
Finding Kinship
Once participants began telling
their stories, they began searching for others like them. Because their
identities as suicide attempt survivors were so often erased, and the
discrimination they faced was so significant, finding kinship networks of
people who understood their experience became incredibly important. Being able
to share recovery strategies, talk about the challenges they faced without
judgment, and provide mutual support was integral to their journey. There has
been a pervasive practice within the mental health system of not allowing
suicide attempt survivors to share their experiences openly in groups, whether
or not a clinician was present. It is clear from these interviews that
survivors are not only finding each other and having these discussions anyway –
one participant stated, “What was so
weird was that in the hospital we weren’t allowed to talk about our attempts.
So we said, “fuck you,” and started our own outside group afterward. We are
still friends.” – but that finding kinship and solidarity with other
suicide attempt survivors is an irreplaceable part of recovery. One participant
explained how vital finding this network was, saying, “I just knew there had to be more people like me, and it was so much
worse for us to just be all alone.” This was frequently cited as the most
important experience. The importance of connectedness as a protective factor
has been confirmed by suicide prevention research many times, so it is not surprising that this process was so imperative to the
participants.
Developing Power
The final key experience that
emerged was to developing power by making meaning of the experience. This
experience was defined by actions that allowed something positive to come from
their suicide attempt. The two most common ways of developing power were helping
and activism. One participant served as Court Appointed Special Advocate for
abused and neglected children. She explained, “I wouldn’t say I was “recovered” until after I started volunteering as
a CASA. I couldn’t believe they let me do it, actually. I was so dark and
twisty, who would let me help kids? But they did. It changed my life. I was
part of something and it healed my soul.” Another participant worked on a
crisis line, saying, “Once I got on that
hotline everything changed. I was whole again, and I could help people. That
was the moment I knew I would live. Really live.”
It is important to note that that throughout these
interviews, there was no treatment or experience with the mental health system
that participants identified as integral to their recovery process. This
doesn’t mean that traditional mental health treatment was not effective; for
some people it absolutely was. When in this process people found traditional
treatment helpful varied greatly, and many of the participants did not find
benefit in traditional treatment modalities at all. These findings indicate
that recovery requires much more than traditional therapy, and that some
practices in the mental health system actually prevent these key experiences
from occurring.
What Next?
The mental health and suicide prevention communities should
examine how these experiences are being supported or discouraged in their
practice. Reducing the barriers to these experiences and promoting
opportunities for them to happen. This information can also help friends and
family of suicide attempt survivors better understand their experience.
The Carson J Spencer Foundation is using this data, along
with other data gathered in this process to inform the development of a new
care package for suicide attempt survivors leaving hospitalization settings.
The contents of the package will be designed, reviewed, and approved by suicide
attempt survivors, and will serve as a companion through the complex experience
of recovery following a suicide attempt. For more information about this data,
the collection process, or the development of this new program, please fill out
our contact form with the subject “SOSA Blog”.
1 comment:
Wow! Wicked wow! Jess, this is incredible. It should become the manifesto moving forward. I lost count of how many times I said "Yes!" after each sentence, let alone the entire piece.
This should be posted on the Zero Suicide listserv and everywhere else people are talking about suicide, wringing their hands about "what to do next," and making decisions but not - not - including and respecting the voices of the only people who can really offer hope to those on the edge...and keep them from stepping off.
I sincerely hope this is read and embraced across the world. We must change direction. We must stop doing what we always do. It's not working.
Thank you for standing up and sharing this.
Wow!
Annemarie Matulis, Executive Producer & Director, www.avoiceatthetable.org
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