Author: alphabetsoupandjesus

Explaining Suicide

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Last week, I talked about the period of time in my life where I genuinely wanted to end my life. My goal with that post was to give you the knowledge that I was speaking from experience. This week, I wanted to dig into suicide and give you information about some factors that contribute to a person taking their life, as well as warning signs and how to help someone if they are suicidal.

First, let’s look at some statistics.

In the United States, suicide is the 10th leading cause of death. I’m 2019 alone, there were 47,511 suicides, and 1.3 million suicide attempts. What’s even worse is that those numbers were less than those in 2018. Suicide has become an increasingly serious problem, and while we as a nation will never be able to completely eliminate suicides, there are things that can be done to help those who are struggling.

Before we can help, first we need to understand the the factors that contribute to suicide, and the warning signs that can indicate someone is at risk.

When someone gets to the point of trying, or even succeeding, to kill themselves, it’s not normally caused by one specific factor. While I’m not going to give an exhaustive list of factors, but I do want to point out a few large ones.

Mental Health Conditions:

  • Depression
  • Bipolar disorders
  • Substance abuse difficulties
  • Schizophrenia

Emotional and Historical Factors:

  • Stress (bullying, unemployment, divorce)
  • Family history of suicide
  • Abuse
  • Childhood neglect or trauma

I’m addition, not having proper mental healthcare, or a proper support system can increase the risk of suicide in a person.

Now that you have a grasp of some of the risk factors, let’s look at some of the warning signs.

  • Talking about wanting to harm or kill yourself.
  • Talking about being a burden to others.
  • Withdrawing from family and friends.
  • Taking unnecessary risks like driving too fast.
  • Extreme mood swings.
  • A change in sleeping habits.

The last point I feel the need to discuss is how you should interact with someone who is suicidal. There are a multitude of things you should do, but here are a some of the highlights:

  • Let them know you care about them.
    • When someone is feeling suicidal, they may genuinely believe that no one cares for or about them. It’s important that you show that you do care about them, while also making sure you’re not invalidating their beliefs.
      • That could mean, if someone says, “What’s the point in living, no one cares about me.” You should say something to the effect of, “I care about you. I’m here and I’m listening.”
  • Listen and be non-judgmental.
    • If someone is considering suicide, they don’t need someone telling them how all of their reasons for dying are wrong. This goes back to the post I wrote that talked about sitting with someone in their grief and suffering. Being that person who listens without being condescending or judgmental can literally save their life.
  • If someone is contemplating suicide, call the proper authorities.
    • Call the crisis hotline and possibly emergency services depending on the situation.
  • Don’t leave them alone as this could give them a possible outlet to carry out a plan if they have one.
  • Distract them.
    • Tell them a story about yourself, watch a good natured tv show, color, sing, play with a pet. The point is to get their minds off the negative thoughts.
  • Ask them. If you suspect that some is suicidal, it’s important to ask them. You can’t help unless you know.

There’s your overview of suicide, what causes it, what to look for, and how to help if the situation arises. Each hyperlink above can also be found in the “More Information” page of my website for quick access. They are more thorough than I have the space to be when explaining this subject and do a fantastic job of explaining this difficult subject in an easily digestible way.

Next week, I’m going to put this information into perspective for Christians, and talk about suicide in the church, how it can be addressed, and how we as the Body of Christ, can be a help to those struggling.

My Story

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*This post involves mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, and behaviors. If you might find this triggering or upsetting please do not read. If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts or actions please seek help. The number for the Suicide Prevention Line is: (800)-273-8255)*

This picture was taken in May of this year while my best friend and I were on a trip together. It’s another in a long line of obligatory selfies the two of us take once a year when we see each other. We’ve know each other for 12 years, and have been best friends for 7 of those 12. She’s the reason I’m here today, and I want to tell that story.

At 13 years old, I was at the lowest point a person could possibly be. I didn’t see a point in living. I saw myself as a burden to my parents. I saw myself as having nobody to count on. Despite being a Christian, I didn’t see how God could even want to love someone as worthless as I was. I was awkward, uncomfortable in my own skin, and quite frankly miserable. While I had “friends,” at that point, I didn’t have someone I truly felt close to who was also female.

So, in February of 2014, I made a plan. I had it so detailed and was so driven to follow through that I even took precautions to cover my tracks so that my parents didn’t find out. By the end of February, I was just waiting for a time that no one else was home in order to go ahead with my plan, but that was harder than I thought it would be. And in effort to keep my plan under wraps, I ended up going to a Teen Retreat for my church’s conference.

I could probably write a book about how the 11 years I spent as a camper were so important to me as a kid, and why they’re still really important to me as an adult. One of the biggest though, is that, my now best friend and I got reacquainted. We talked about anything and everything, and most importantly, we connected. I could tell from that conversation that she wasn’t uncomfortable with my awkwardness, and had the same sense of dry, dark humor that I did. She genuinely liked me for me, and that gave me hope.

Don’t get me wrong, that one night didn’t magically fix everything. But it did start a healing process. We exchanged numbers and kept in contact with each other. She pushed past literally all of my barriers like they were nothing. And over the course of the next few months, the inclination to go through with ending my life stopped. Next, the suicidal thoughts eased. My depression didn’t go away completely, it still hasn’t, but it greatly improved.

I came to realize that a lot of the things that I believed about myself, and honestly believed to be true weren’t. I really wasn’t a burden to my parents. I did in fact have people I could count on, in all actuality I had, and still do have, a pretty amazing support system that I didn’t know how to utilize then, and am still learning how to utilize now.

As a Christian, I’ve come to appreciate how perfect and beautiful the love of God is. God’s love for me never changed, it’s a consistent and unchanging love, that, even when I couldn’t see it, was still working. I wasn’t worthless, I was valuable as a child of God.

Being miserable, awkward, and uncomfortable in my own skin is something that I now attribute to my undiagnosed ADHD, and an abundance of non-ADHD people in my social circle.

So, 7 years later, my best friend and I live in separate states, have majorly different career paths, and in general lead different lives. Yet, that doesn’t matter. We both know that our relationship wasn’t built on proximity, and if one of us needs the other, that person will be there.

I bet some of you are wondering why I made the decision to tell this story. Well, for starters, it’s National Suicide Prevention Month. I want to bring awareness to a topic that is considered taboo in both mainstream and Christian cultures. In addition, because it’s so delicate, I wanted to make it clear that I’m speaking from a place of experience.

A Lesson in Gardening

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These past couple weeks have been rough. Life has thrown multiple curveballs in rapid succession, and I haven’t been able to keep up. August was apparently the month of sudden change, and I was woefully underprepared, which means that my normal way of processing emotions and sensory input didn’t work.

I genuinely struggle to process my emotions, and it only gets worse when I don’t allow myself time to think and rest. That struggle, along with my struggle of processing sensory input, is a side effect of my ADHD, because my brain isn’t capable of processing information the way that it should. I don’t enjoy it, but for the most part I’ve figured out a way to deal with it in a way that is not disruptive to my life. When I don’t allow myself time to think and rest, I end up having a meltdown which sort of resets my brain and body to try again.

To better explain how my brain processes these things I’m going to attempt to give you an allegory to help you visualize what I mean when I say I have difficulties in processing my emotions and sensory input.

Imagine you’ve figured out a way to water your garden by having a hose pour water into a watering can at the perfect rate, so that the watering can doesn’t overflow, and you get a consistent amount of water coming out of the watering can at the same time. Let’s say your hose only has a really violent spray setting, so you need the watering can to help soften the blow of the water so you don’t kill your plants. As long as none of the variables change, you’re golden, however, if someone were to increase the flow of water coming out of the hose, the watering can would overflow, you’d get wet, and your garden would probably drown.

Now, I want you to imagine a bucket; I see it as a metal pail, but if you imagine something different that’s cool too. In order to water your garden with a bucket, you have to continuously go to a water spout, fill it up, walk to where you need the water to be and pour it. It’s more difficult, extremely tedious and time consuming, and it’s also really easy to overflow the bucket if you get distracted by something, or you don’t have time to keep a close eye on it.

The watering can and hose scenario is how emotional regulation and processing should theoretically work in a neurotypical brain. You only really get overwhelmed if something drastic happens in life, but overall you’re able to keep a solid grip on your emotions and process and distribute the necessary responses in an orderly manner.

I’m the poor dude with the bucket, or a neurodivergent brain . It takes a lot of effort and energy to handle my emotions and it’s a whole process. They just sit there until I can either throw them where they need to be, or I accidently let them accumulate too much and overflow, which causes a meltdown. To clarify, a meltdown is what I call my body’s physical reaction to emotions, sensory input, and general life when I don’t handle and process correctly.

The beginning stages of a meltdown are pretty small. I start getting headaches from bright or florescent lights and often find myself wearing sunglasses inside. Next, sounds get louder. If it gets bad enough, whispering can sound like someone is shouting directly in my ear. Also, sounds like my own chewing tend to irk me. Most of the time sound sensitivity is as bad as I let it get, but, every now and then everything happens too fast and I can’t process the emotions in time. After sound sensitivity, things start to feel wrong. My clothes don’t feel right or comfortable no matter what I’m wearing. Next, it sort of feels like my skin, insides, and bones are not all cohesively sized to fit my body and they are desperately struggling to simply exist as one. By the time my body starts feeling wrong, I’ve found a place to seclude myself and ride out the meltdown.

For at least the next half an hour I have to cover my eyes and ears, hide under a weighted blanket, and let myself deal. My heartrate picks up, my breathing becomes rapid and shallow, and all the emotions, events, and sensory input that I’ve been unable to process or regulate just exist all at once. It’s exhausting chaos, that often ends with me taking a nap and waking up with an empty bucket ready to try again.

I had a really bad one recently that reminded me how much of an idiot I was being. Yeah, life had thrown quite a few new, scary things my way, but I knew better than to let myself go that long without taking time to process everything. I was pushing myself because that’s what I wanted to believe I needed to do, when in all actuality I should have taken time with each new issue and processed it. More than that, I should have let myself truly rest instead of pushing forward.

So, this past week, I put an emphasis on rest. What does that look like? It’s taking time every evening to think through the things I have going on and meditate on how I feel about them, even if that means just taking ten minutes each day to work on this. It’s reminding myself that, while I am required to do a lot of things, running myself into the ground isn’t one of them.

So, this week, I come to you with a mostly empty bucket and a question. “When was the last time you truly took time to rest?”

Brothers and Prosthetics

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Has anybody else ever been told not to ask God why something was happening? Growing up a church kid I heard that in various forms a lot. It’s like asking that question was ever only seen as questioning God’s authority, and never seen as seeking understanding. Don’t get me wrong, there have been times where I’ve strayed into the former, but most of the time I just want to understand. There’s one person that I can thank for helping me understand the difference: my grandfather.

He’s the reason I hold this position about asking God “why.” You see, when I was no more than 8, I was so excited to share about Salvation, and what God was doing in my life, my wonderful grandfather wasn’t having any of it. He looked at me and posed two questions that I didn’t have the answers to. “If God is so good, why did he take your brother? And if He’s so good, why’d He take my leg?” I know, harsh right? That was him though. He was gruff, blunt, and harsh even with his grandkids, but that wasn’t all of who he was. He loved his grandkids, a good western novel, and to make us laugh. So, while yeah, he was blunt to me, I respect that, because that’s the type of person I am to an extent.

At 8, I didn’t have the answers to those questions, and I wouldn’t for another 10 years. I’d always wondered the same thing about my brother. My parents had us via IVF after suffering difficulties with pregnancy beforehand. My mom had to have an emergency C-section when we were 28 weeks along because both she and my brother were sick. I showed up weighing in at 1lb 15oz, my brother was smaller, and after only an hour he died. I on the other hand spent 92 days in the NICU, having two surgeries before I was released within a day or so of my due date.

If you haven’t figured it out, my grandfather wasn’t the type of man who strayed away from asking what he needed to. Those two questions were probably asked with a dual purpose. He wanted to get me to stop talking about something that was a sore subject for him, and he also genuinely wanted to know the answer. He lost the lower half of his right leg several years before I was born due to a work accident involving high amounts of electricity. He dealt with the painful results up until the day he died. He never understood why the God who claimed to be so loving and kind would allow those awful things to happen.

I don’t think he was ever able to get those answers on this side of eternity, but I know he has them now. In 2013, he ended up hospitalized for two weeks due to COPD complications. During his stay, a dear friend of ours led him to the Lord. I no longer had to worry about his salvation, but I also never had the answers to those questions. On Mother’s Day 2017, the COPD finally took him. The next day, I sat at our kitchen table, trying to write something to say at his memorial on Tuesday. I sat there and stared at that blank screen for a long time, nothing I could think to say felt right. Then I did what I should have done in the first place. I asked God for guidance. The words flowed freely after that, and I finally got the answers. And in that speech, I was finally able to give the answers I’d spent years waiting for.

God allowed my brother to die because his life here would have been miserable, he would have been ill and his life would have only been sickness, pain, and suffering. As for my grandfather’s leg? God sometimes allows the bad things in so that later, they can be used in a way that shows His glory. I got my answers when I needed them, and not a second sooner.

I tell this story to make a point. If my grandfather had never posed those questions to me in such a way, I highly doubt my relationship with God would be where it is now. You see, him being himself, and asking the hard questions, made me start asking the hard questions. It had me examining my relationship with Christ, in a way that I don’t think was otherwise possible.

My uncle is famous for saying, “God always answers your questions in one of three ways. He says ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ or ‘wait’.” I think people stray away from asking God, “why,” because they think that it may be questioning God’s divinity and plan. If that’s your reason, you’re right, but for others, it may not. My grandfather asking me those questions put me on a path to understand the difference between questioning God’s plan and seeking understanding.

My grandfather wanted to understand why these things happened, and so he asked the questions he thought would get him the answers he was looking for thinking that he would always get the answers he wanted. That’s not how God works. I learned from him, and it has changed my life.

At some point I stopped doubting that God’s choices were the right ones, and I started being content in the choices that He made. When I realized that there was peace in whatever answer I was given, my life became a little bit less chaotic.

Yet, I Keep Going

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My depression is a deep overwhelming sadness that can consume me, and has done that very thing countless times. It steals my joy, my peace, my purpose, my rationale, and so much more. Yet, I keep going.

My depression is my constant companion. No matter how well my meds are working. No matter how hard I work in therapy. It stays. Sometimes, it’s just barely visible, lurking in the shadows and waiting for the most opportune time to strike. Sometimes it’s way too close for comfort and I have to change my entire life to accommodate it. Yet, I keep going

My depression is a liar. It tells me I’m unworthy, unloved, and that I don’t deserve to live. It whispers these lies at any hour it so chooses. I can be on top of the world, and one well placed lie can send me spiraling. Yet, I keep going.

My depression is partially due to a chemical imbalance and genetics. There’s no amount of behavioral therapy that can change that, I just have to accept it. Yet, I keep going.

My depression is partially trauma induced. It reflects the worst moments of my life. I can, and do, actively work on this. There are days I come out of therapy so drained from digging into the depths of the thoughts that I want to sleep for days. Yet, I keep going.

My depression is a representation of everything negative that has ever happened to me. Every snide comment, traumatic event, and argument are all clearly seen in how my depression sees me. Yet, I keep going.

My depression is part of my testimony. It reveals how God saw me at my absolute lowest point, and sent me what I needed in the form of the person I now call my best friend. It’s an ugly part of my testimony that I don’t expect everybody to understand. Yet, I keep going.

My depression is the reason I make an effort to slow down and enjoy nature when I can. Because at one point, everything looked bleak and dull. There was no beauty in the world for me. Sometimes, I find myself slipping back there. Yet, I keep going.

My depression is the reason my faith is so strong. Looking back on all those moments that felt hopeless. Those moments where I felt abandoned, betrayed and unloved God was there, and provided what I needed. That wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t kept going.

My depression represents the worst parts of my life. It also represents how hard I fought to get where I am. It represents the faith I have in Christ to simply keep going every single day. It represents a past that left battle scars, and a future filled with cautious optimism. It represents me. As a human, a friend, and a Christian. It represents that, even when I feel lost and alone, I’m able to keep going because I learned from my past.

I learned to reach out for support, and that it’s okay to show you’re struggling. I learned to lean on the people that care, and lean on God just that much more. While I don’t enjoy all the facets that make up my depression, I do enjoy the outlook it’s given me. I fight harder because of the depression, and that is something to be proud of.

So, if you find yourself depressed, feeling alone, unloved, unwanted, remember to lean just that much more on Christ, to contact your support system and medical professionals. But most importantly remember to keep going.

The Right Way

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“God has a plan.”

“If one door closes, another one opens.”

“This is God’s will.”

We’ve probably all said and heard these phrases countless times. They’re meant as a comfort for those who are hurting. To help ease the pain, and give relief of some kind. Yet for me, as I deal with health challenges both mental and physical, it feels like a slap in the face.

Let me be clear, there is nothing inherently wrong with these phrases, I want to simply add a different perspective.

I feel like things like this are often said by people who just don’t know what to say. Or, they feel that they have to say the “right” or Christian thing. Yet, those phrases can leave someone feeling that their issues aren’t being validated, and the person they’re talking to is keeping them at arm’s length.

Growing up, I heard these things a lot, so much in fact that I now refuse to say them to someone as a means of trying to comfort them, at least not in an initial conversation. Instead I focus on using statements that show I see what the person is going through and either do or don’t understand while offering support in a way that still reflects my faith.

For example, to show sympathy I say something like, “Hey, while I don’t know what it feels like to deal with this, I just wanted to let you know that I’m here for you and praying for you.”

To show empathy it would be more like, “Hey, I’ve dealt with this thing (or something close to it), if you’d like advice, prayer, or just an ear to talk to I’m here.”

Neither of these are taking God out of the situation, but instead, concentrating on offering clear comfort with Him involved. It’s doing a good job of fulfilling Romans 12:15 “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” (ESV)

The word “with,” in that verse translates to “amid,” according to Strong’s concordance. (G3326) While I love this entire chapter, it’s that one verse I try to live. Paul wants to remember that we need to be amid people not keeping our distance.

Now, I want you to take a look at all the phrases, which ones put you amid the person suffering? If you chose the ones about sympathy and empathy I’m inclined to agree with you.

There’s a song called Not Right Now, by Jason Gray, that I adore because it shares the point I’m hoping you’ll see. Here’s my favorite verse.

Tell me if the hope that you know is true, 
Ever feels like a lie even from a friend.
When their words are salt in an open wound,
And they just can’t seem to understand
That you haven’t even stopped the bleeding yet.

We need to learn how to just be still with a person going through hard times. There isn’t always a need to be proper when trying to comfort someone. And often times, that’s not what’s needed. Just allowing that person to feel what they’re going through and sitting with them in silence can often be more healing than anything you could ever say.

God and Traffic Circles

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I live in a small town that serves as an intersection for several major roadways. In addition, there’s a resort less than 10 minutes down the road. So, from Memorial Day to Labor Day, traffic, specifically in our one little traffic circle, is a mess.

I’ve seen people go the wrong way, go around it multiple times, stop to let people at a yield sign go, and even stop and throw their hands up in confusion because they have no idea which way they’re going. While it’s frustrating and sometimes dangerous, it’s also just part of living where I do.

If you’ve never driven in one, traffic circles can be daunting. The GPS says stuff like “Take the second right,” but you’re not sure if where you are counts as the first right or not. So, you do what any logical person would do and scream in frustration or just straight up freeze when you don’t know where to go. Yet, if they took a split second to rationalize that you can’t turn right in the lane you’re in, or just trusted what the GPS and road signs are telling you, you would have been fine and wouldn’t have needed to go buy an iced coffee to calm down. Upon reflection, I feel like traffic circles and tourists are a really good metaphor for our relationship with God.

Does anybody else find themselves only half-listening to God sometimes? There are moments in my life where God had gotten me to a certain point, and I just stop listening to what He’s telling me. Like He could tell me to go and talk to this person about a particular subject, and then I do something dumb like start the conversation with the person, but don’t actually follow what God laid on my heart. So I sit there floundering for the words to say, and I sort of end up looking like an idiot. Then I have to go drown my sorrows in an iced coffee, that I really shouldn’t have purchased.

Like that GPS telling the clueless tourist to take the second right repeatedly, sometimes I feel like God’s sitting there just repeating the instructions to me just waiting for me to listen. And you know what? In both situations, all of the pain, trouble, and unneeded caffeine could have been avoided if research was done and trust was given. For the tourists, that looks like viewing the entire route before you start driving and trusting that if a wrong turn is taken, you’ll be able to still find your way. For Christians, that looks like studying God’s Word, praying, and keeping close to Him. It also looks like trusting that He’s got your back and isn’t going to let you down.

So, next time you find yourself wondering what God (or a traffic circle) wants you to do, look for signs, and don’t stop in the middle of a potentially dangerous situation. Pull off to the side of the road if you have to. Take a second to regroup, get your bearings, and then try again.

A Bit Off the Top

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I debated about what I should write about for my first official blog post. I could go overly deep and spiritual and talk about how damaging the church can be if they don’t take mental health seriously. I could be lighthearted and tell funny stories that my conditions have created. Instead, I went for this.

In late 2019 or early 2020 I decided to grow out my hair. It had been up to the middle of my ear throughout high school, and down to about my chin up from late 2018 onward I was ready for a change. Well, the pandemic hit, and instead of gradually growing it out and getting it trimmed regularly, I ended up not getting it cut for 18 months.

The first picture is a good representation of how I looked at myself. I didn’t know it then, but at the time of that picture being taken, I was about 2 weeks away from a decent mental breakdown. I was exhausted, depressed, and disgusted with myself. I’d been sleeping less than normal for some reason, and so that, in combination with my depression medicine losing effectiveness led me to be more depressed than normal. Finally, I was disgusted with myself. I felt ugly. I couldn’t take care of the long hair. I was too tired/fatigued/depressed to be able to wash, condition, AND brush it every day. It made me feel inadequate. That I couldn’t take care of something so simple.

After my breakdown, a new medicine, and a week spent not being allowed to be alone, I came to the realization that I needed to change something. I needed to put my ADHD-think-outside-the-box hat on and figure out what needed to change. Well, that change ended up being my hair. 6 days after my breakdown, I was hanging out with a few friends, and commented how tired I was of getting my sunglasses stuck in my irritatingly long hair. One of them happened to mention that they had a battery powered shaver, and, two hours later I had a new haircut.

I now feel more like myself than I have in years. One thing helped change the view I had of my appearance. Now, don’t get me wrong, I still don’t like everything about the way I look, but this went a really long way into boosting my self confidence.

I’m sure some of you are wondering, “How does a really amazing haircut relate to Jesus?” Well, fear not my friends, I have that answer.

Just like making one outward choice changed how I viewed myself, so can making one inward choice. When you accept Christ as your Saviour, you go from living for yourself, to living with a purpose. When new Christians are welcomed into the family of God, their sins are washed away and they are a new creature in Christ. You now have someone to lean on no matter the time of day, someone who will never leave you or forsake you. Someone who loves you no matter your past mistakes. Someone who sees the beautiful broken mess that you are and loves you that much harder. In Christ, we are valued, treasured, and no longer defined by what we think we should be.

If I had to define how having a pretty bad mental breakdown and then shaving 85% of my hair off changed me, this is what I would have to say:

For me, going to the darkest recesses of my mind isn’t something I do often, but when I do, it’s pretty horrible. If it weren’t for Christ, I firmly believe I wouldn’t be able to be here now. The hours that I sat there unable to get rid of thoughts that plagued my nightmares, were also filled with a continuous cry to Jesus. It was a literal battle. I’d slip, and the prayer would start again. I wasn’t even saying anything in those prayers, but Christ knew. He didn’t choose to take them away, He chose to sit with me through them until they were gone. It was the reminder that I needed that no matter what I’m experiencing, no matter who is or isn’t with me in person, Christ will always be.

References:

II Corinthians 5:17 (new creature)

Deuteronomy 31:6 (never leave or forsake you)