The Background
Our family has been dealing with depression for many years now, and
until recently we've not been able to understand what was happening, or
that this might have all been rooted in a mental illness. We struggled
with it. We fought over it. I knew my wife was depressed, but I could
not explain her other symptoms, and truthfully, did not even realize
that they even were symptoms. This blog summarizes the tipping point. The
suicide attempt. This is a summary of the full journal.
We really wanted to share this experience because we wanted to provide a resource for other people that are in similar positions or about to be.
People that are thinking of committing suicide need to know the impact that action will have on their loved ones and recognize how important they are in their loved ones' lives.
People who's loved ones will/did attempt suicide. This is what happened to me and how I dealt with it, along with all the fear and insecurity.
Below is a summarized version of the whole experience, taken from both of our journals which we wrote while it was happening (or in some cases within a few days).
We really wanted to share this experience because we wanted to provide a resource for other people that are in similar positions or about to be.
People that are thinking of committing suicide need to know the impact that action will have on their loved ones and recognize how important they are in their loved ones' lives.
People who's loved ones will/did attempt suicide. This is what happened to me and how I dealt with it, along with all the fear and insecurity.
Below is a summarized version of the whole experience, taken from both of our journals which we wrote while it was happening (or in some cases within a few days).
The Experience
The Attempt
Christine would be starting a new job in the morning. She had a rough patch but the last day or so things seemed to be getting better. Her mood appeared to have started improving. I woke up in the middle of the night and she had still not gone to bed. When I asked her about it her reply was slurred and she seemed a bit dopey. I did not realize that at the time though because I was pretty foggy with sleep myself.I woke up the next morning and went to work as usual. Later in the morning I thought to check up on her. She would be starting her new job soon. She did not respond to any of my texts and did not pick up the phone when I tried calling. I figured she had decided to bail on the new job as she had done in the past and she was probably feeling bad about it. I decided I should go home. I could talk to her and if possible try to encourage her to follow through with the new job and if that didn't help I could let her know that I supported her with or without a job. I didn't want her to feel pressured into doing something that she was just not ready to do.
When i got home I found her still in bed. She was unresponsive. I did my best to rouse her and was only able to get brief moments of her. I asked her if she planned to still go to work today because she was going to be late. She asked me what day it was. The next time I was able to get through to her I asked her if she had taken any drugs. She said she had taken sleeping pills. When I asked her how many she said that she had taken a lot. My heart felt like it ripped out and crushed. That had never occurred to me. I knew she was having a rough go of it lately but still I was blind sided. I’m so stupid and selfish. I asked her if she was trying to kill herself and she said yes. There was no emotion in her voice or in her eyes at all. She then shut her eyes and drifted away again. I went into the bathroom saw that she had taken all of my sleeping pills and all of my Clonazepams (almost a month worth of each). She had also taken the rest of her muscle relaxers. I had a bit of a panic attack and had to get a grip so I could call 911.
I asked for ambulance and when they picked up, after asking the usual questions to determine the situation they said that due to the nature of the situation they would have to involve the police as well. She connected us to the police and gave that lady a brief rundown of the situation. The police lady started asking me questions, including if we had had a fight. I explained that my wife suffers from depression and anxiety and had tried to take her own life. She then asked me a bunch more questions. I did my best to answer them. after a few minutes the front door opened and three paramedics, a gurney and two firemen came through (the fire department always gets involved because they are first responders since there are more of them). Our little dog went ballistic so I had to lock her up in a room. Between the emergency personnel asking me where my wife was and what she took, etc. and the police lady on the phone asking me all of her questions I started to loose control. The world closed in on me and I started to cry. The police lady on the phone tried to comfort me but that didn't work. It just made me really angry and I wanted it all to stop. The anger helped me get a better grip, enough to answer the rest of the questions, and then I was able to get off the phone.
At this point I was so stressed out. My anxiety was so high that my frantic mind shut down. All sound get muffled, like I was behind glass, reality slowed down and I felt like I floated out of my body. I watched the people in my apartment do their thing to help my wife, but I wasn't a part of it. I was detached. Then, one of the paramedics snapped me out of it. He had found her suicide letter and was asking me about the pills she had taken. I brought out the empty bottles and put them on the counter. When I finished writing them down on paper for the paramedic he asked me how I was doing. I started crying again. I sat down at the end of the counter and he told me that I should take a bit of time to compose myself before following them to the hospital. He said that since she had taken the pills at 4am she wasn't going to get any worse than she was now. He said that she wasn't going to die.
The police did eventually arrive and they did whatever police do in these situations. I couldn't tell what that was. The paramedics had gotten Christine onto the gurney and were wheeling her out when the police talked to me. I held her hand as she rolled by. I was crushed by terror, and being told she would be OK was not enough to dispel that. After a few more questions the police reiterated that I should wait a while before heading to the hospital. There was no point causing an accident while being in the state I was in. Then they left and the house was empty except for me and my dog.
The Hospital
I got to the hospital and found where they had stashed Christine, in a holding area. They had nowhere else to put her but they were monitoring her. I sat with her for a long time and then I saw her chart and the her suicide letter was in it. I asked one of the nurses if I could read it. He let me. She had written a letter that was a good five or six pages long. In it she apologized for doing this but was sure that we would all be strong enough to move on from this and live better lives. She told the kids that I would look out for them and a whole bunch of other stuff that I can’t remember right now, so hopefully they give the letter back. She also did an informal will and testament, leaving everything to me except for things that she specifically wanted to give to others, and then said that I could distribute the rest as needed. The letter was so matter of fact. It was clear that there was no self worth. She truly thought that we would get over her and that we would not suffer any ill effects after we finished mourning. It almost sounded like she thought that we would bury her, have the wake and talk about her and cry for her and then we would all be fine from that point on, as if we were all just barely acquaintances of hers rather than the people that love her the most in the whole world. I cried while I read it. I felt so sad for her that she would feel so unloved. That she would not understand just how much each and everyone of us treasures her. She is and always has been the glue between us all and she never really understood that or how important to us she truly is. When I was done with it I gave the note back to the nurse. I never did see that letter again.We spent a long time in the ER, me holding her hand. While I sat with her I was at war with myself, trying to control my guilt for not being a better husband. Every now and then she would come to a little and mumble that she was sorry, but most of the time she was incoherent. Later in the afternoon they finally moved her to a semi private room in the ER. They put an IV into her arm, and while there she seemed to be somewhat lucid a bit more frequently. Nurses and doctors came in and asked her and me several questions about both her physical and mental state and if she still wanted to end her life. They all asked the same questions and it all seemed rather redundant. When they were talking to her she would slip out of her pain and talk to them as if nothing had happened. When they left us alone, during the times that she wasn't sleeping we cried together a lot. She did seem sincerely sorry, but she made it plain that given the chance she would try again. We talked a lot about how she felt it was all pointless to go on and that she had no hope left for things to get better. She expressed how she felt nobody really loved her, and that me telling her how the people around her felt about her (based on my own observation) was just me trying to make her feel better, and that it couldn’t possibly be true, because why would anybody love her??? She believed that she was a burden on everybody, and that she had nothing to offer. That she was basically useless. Not only that, but everything bad that had happened to us in the years leading up to this were essentially focused on her (even the things that had nothing to do with her). Everything I tried to tell her seemed to just glide over the surface of her brain. In one ear and out the other.
Later that evening they finally told us that they had decided to admit her. They were waiting for a room in the psychiatric ward to free up so in the mean time they would put her into a transition room. This room (the dungeon) was shaped like an octagon with solid concrete walls and a six inch thick solid steel door with no handle on the inside. There was a mattress in the middle of the floor and a steel toilet attached to the wall. We were told that although she did not need this level of protection there was no other room safe enough for her. They left the door slightly open but to us it still felt like a dungeon and she still felt trapped. Christine lay on the mattress and I lay on the floor with my head propped up on the mattress, next to her head so that I could still touch her. She put her hand on my chest and we talked. She dozed off for a bit and so i tried to relax my mind, but it was no use. My thoughts and emotions were all over the place. I went from feeling despair, to calm, to resentment at her for doing this to us, to worry for her recovery, to fear about calling the family.
It felt like I was in the hospital with Christine for several days, but in reality it was just later that evening that I left for home. I called her mother and she handled the news with amazing composure even though the worry in her voice was palpable. I promised that I would call her every day with updates. The children (all adults) did not handle it quite so well. They were quite angry and terrified and they all expressed feeling guilty as if they could have been better children, and one even had a major anxiety attack leading to a seizure. I tried to express to all of them that this was no one's fault. Not even Christine's. That this was what she felt was her only remaining option and that now she would finally start getting the help she needed.
Christine's Point Of View
I took an overdose of pills last night, hoping I would not wake up and never have to feel pain or discomfort ever again. I would never have to be around grumpy people anymore. Never have to make choices again. I just wanted peace.Well, I did not succeed. Henk came home in a panic because I wasn't answering my phone and he knew what my mindset has been. He called 911 and I was rushed to the hospital by ambulance. Once we got there everyone just kept asking me the same questions over and over again. "Why did you want to kill yourself?" I just wanted them all to shut up and let me die, but that wasn't going to happen because I didn't take enough of the right kind of pills. I just slept from all the sleeping pills.
I was put in a special room so I couldn't hurt myself or anyone else. It was pretty much a jail cell. The mattress was on the floor. There were glass bricks for a window, so I couldn't see out. It had one of those sink and toilet combo's that you see in prison. There was a camera on me 24/7
The first day I didn't care because I was still out of it. The second day was very hard. I felt so low and was angry that I didn't die. I felt so guilty when Henk would tell me how everyone took the news of what I did. I felt like a big loser.
The Next Few Days
I spent the next few days working for a few hours in the morning, spending the day at the hospital with Christine, and then going back to work late at night to finish out the day. We couldn't afford the time off. She spent another two days in the dungeon and I tried to spend as much of that time with her as I could. I did not want her to feel alone and unloved. It took a few days for the pills to wear off so she spent a lot of time sleeping or being out of it. When we talked it was about the family, the future and also some gallows humour. When we were quiet the stillness forced me to think of where we were and why. It overwhelmed me. I could not hold back the tears. While in the dungeon despite how much Christine professed her sorrow for having hurt us all, she was still convinced that her death was the best answer. There was no dislodging that idea, and I didn’t even try very hard. I knew that she wouldn’t budge, so I just stayed with her and held her and loved her.In the afternoon of the third day she was finally moved up to the ward. They signed her in and informed her that she was being involuntarily committed. The advised her of her rights and that she could fight this decision if she chose. Luckily she chose not to.
Christine - Caged
I had to spend two long nights in that damn room. Finally, on Wednesday afternoon I was brought up to the crazy ward. At first I was happy because I could get some well needed help, whether it was going to be group counseling or even one on one, or even have my psychiatrist adjust my meds. NOPE. Instead I am in a prison again. I at least have my own room but there is nothing to do here. Everyone here is in rough condition and I feel more in danger here than I would at home.. I have no one to talk to. There has not been any group counseling for me. Just for people that have drug or alcohol problems.On The Way Back Up
On Thursday I felt a lot of anger towards my wife. Christine called me at work and told me they were giving her a 4 hour pass to get some outside time and she was desperate for me to come get her. I told her that I would wrap up what I was working on and get her and that it would be around 30-45 minutes before I could leave the office. She called me every 10 minutes and it was really pushing my buttons. I was tired. Very tired. I did finally manage to go get her. She met me at the hospital main doors. Her whole attitude was that she was getting the hell out of the hospital. She was behaving like a trapped animal, desperate to be free.We had a mostly nice, albeit short visit, and she told me that they were going to give her a couple of 4 hour passes and then 8 hour passes for the weekend days, and then on Monday the doctor would review and maybe release her. Christine spared no thought for the days in between. To her it was all about when she could be released. She was very about her whole experience in the ward, saying that nobody was helping her and that she wasn’t able to talk to any of the other patients and that she felt like this was the wrong place for her. I understood her feelings, but she was in there for a reason. She had just tried to kill herself and already she was planning her escape. She wasn’t even willing to give the ward a chance.
Before I brought her back to the hospital I had to get some refills on my meds and hers. Hers went OK but the insurance company denied mine because I had just refilled them before Christine took them all. I could see the panic in Christine's eyes so in a whisper I asked her how she wanted me to handle this. She looked like she was not ready to blurt out the truth so I told the pharmacist that I had an accident with my pill bottles and that was why I needed them refilled. She accepted that, put a note on the forms and refilled them for me.
When I got back home from the hospital I remember sitting on the couch, trying to watch some TV. My anger just kept growing at the thought that Christine might try to escape without getting the help she needed, and even avoid getting that help on purpose. I was not able to handle that possibility, and so as my anger grew so did thoughts of my own suicide. There was no way I could manage living with Christine if she did not accept and deal with her situation and treat it deserved and required. I took that as a slap in my own face, like I was her patsy. She was playing with both our lives with little concern for a real and healthy future. If it all played out that way I would not be able to continue, and I knew that I would have to either leave her or kill myself.
Clearly the events at the pharmacy the night before affected Christine because the next day she seemed to have a change of heart. She became much more accepting of her situation and willing to see it through to get better. I got a phone call from her that morning at 8:30. My thoughts were pretty dark, but she had only called to tell me good morning and that she loved me and to remind me that I was coming to get her after work. Her voice wasn’t frantic and it really took me by surprise. I had to rethink. I was still going to be cautious but maybe things were not going to go the way I was fearing.
When I picked her up we went for a nice long walk in the park and had a really encouraging talk. She expressed her guilt for taking my pills and for hurting us all with her suicide attempt. Christine told me that she had a wonderful day at the hospital because she got to learn how to relax, and that she got to go on a group walk and that she was starting to get to know people there. She explained that she really wanted to get better and would do what ever she had to do to that end. I really looked hard but I could find no falsehood in what she was saying. The walk through the park made me feel incredibly recharged, not only that there might be hope for us, but that there definitely was and I was not the only one striving for our future anymore.
On the weekend Christine continued to show signs of improvement and so on Tuesday the doctor decided to release her. Now that it's here I'm not ready for it. I'm not ready to stop worrying. I'm glad that Christine will be back home with me but I'm on eggshells.
The Aftermath
This experience has really driven both of us to work on understanding what was happening with Christine so that she could get better. She was really starting to make some progress. We started eating better, seeing a counselor and working on the tools she would need to prevent her from sinking so low again. A month later we found out that her mother had liver cancer. Nobody else in the family told her until the last minute because they were afraid to "trigger" her. Her mom died five days later. It seemed like she was pulling strength from the experience. She was a rock for the rest of the family as we all grieved our loss. She spearheaded the process of handling the funeral and all the other stuff that needs to be done when a person dies.This strength lasted for about a month before the tough veneer started to crack. The depression started to set in and I was very fearful for her. She kept telling me that she wouldn't attempt suicide again because she didn't want to let her children family down and that she also wanted to live for her mother who had been taken too soon. Despite that she really struggled. She had only just started healing from her own suicide attempt and was not ready to handle such a tragic event.
The struggle went on for months and I watched my love suffer and sink deeper. I started to really despair for her. Our counselor pointed me to the BC Schizophrenia Society. She said they had a support group that I could attend and also a course called Strengthening Families Together that I could take to help teach me how to help my wife. I wasn't sure at first, but I joined both. The course turned things around. I started to understand more about what Christine was going through and that she had an illness as real as diabetes. That she needed to learn how to live with that illness and learn how to control the impact that it has on her. This course helped me learn how best to communicate with her while she is not feeling well and how to listen to her when she is actively telling me how she feels and what she needs, and how to support her when she is reacting.
The society also puts on a few programs for people with mental illness and Christine decided that she would be willing to participate in one. She decided on Your Recovery Journey and was quite nervous about going. By the second session everything changed. She found a connection with the facilitator and this gave her the hope that she had been missing all these long months and in fact long years. I can happily say that she is doing much better now. She is actively working on her recovery and she has hope for her future. It's not all roses. There are difficult days but she is slowly learning how to make the bad days less bad and last less long. I am so proud of her and my love for her has only grown.
