Showing posts with label Suicide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Suicide. Show all posts

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Suicide at School

We lost another child to guns today. It has been reported that an 8th grade student at Davidson Middle School in Southgate, Michigan committed suicide. According to officials, it was a self-inflicted gun shot to the head. He left a note (WDIV and WXYZ).

May he rest in peace and my condolences go out to the family. This was a tragedy in so many ways and leaves us with so many questions. How is it that this young person had such easy access to a loaded gun? Did he buy it on the street? Was it a parents weapon? If so, why was it loaded and not locked up? Or, if it was locked up, why was the key within the reach of this distraught young person? Where were the parents?  The gun being available was a crucial piece to this awful puzzle but where were the parents when the child was calling for help? My guess is that he had been depressed and desperate for awhile. Parents are not mind readers but almost every suicidal person signals their distress in any of a myriad of ways. It is, however, sometimes very difficult to read these signs. Perhaps the parents thought he was being a "moody teenager."  It is maddening that he had ready access to a loaded gun but also that he DIDN'T have access to help. Why, oh why are guns so ubiquitous while mental health resources are few and far between?

  I sincerely hope that this is not another case where the child had been bullied to the point where he couldn't take it anymore.  Bullying is so common but also devastating. It can scar a life permanently and can even lead to suicide as we have seen all too often. And suicide reaches out and grabs the survivors as well. For the classmates, there may well be guilt, that they survived, or even that they somehow caused the death of a schoolmate. I can only imagine the guilt that will fall upon their young shoulders. I assume (perhaps incorrectly) that help will be available to them now. They will need it. So will his family. According to NIMH, family history of suicide raises the risk for another suicide ( www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/suicide-in-the-us ). According to Danish researchers:

"... people who had a mother, father, or sibling die from suicide were two and a half times more likely to commit suicide themselves compared with those without a similar family history. And people who had a family history of psychiatric illness that required hospital admission had a 50% higher risk of suicide, but only among those who didn't already have a history of mental illness themselves." (WebMD, October, 2002)

I am not sure of the connection between friends or schoolmates and suicide but it would not surprise me to learn that there is an increased risk for them as well.

So, what exactly happened to cause this young soul to seek an end to his apparent suffering? Was it bullying? Whatever it was, it was obviously too much for him. It is too bad that it was so easy for him to get hold of a loaded gun. Without the gun there may have been a way out for him though he couldn't see it at the time. The gun prettywell put an end to possibilities.  Yes, he may have found another way to end his life but a gun shot to the head is pretty much final.  No time for second thoughts. The combination of access to guns and the LACK of access to mental health services can be and was, deadly. When will we ever learn?

Monday, August 27, 2012

The Slave

It's an irresistible pull from the grave
calling out to me, requiring my presence.
Like hypnosis, behavior controlled
not from autonomy but from the slave.

A slave who felt the call, the pull on himself
required now to endlessly repeat the sequence.
Inner impulse, outward obsession
like a book he can't put back on the shelf.

"Onward!" he exclaims," keep moving on, move out"
Inexorably we gravitate to the end.
"What will it be like?" I want to ask
Hearing my thoughts the slave shrugs and shouts:

"The time is come! Prepare you the way this day!"
The fog closing around us clings like an old coat
Closer and colder it penetrates.
I grasp the cold is me, am dismayed.

"Why tremble you?" asks the slave slithering on.
"You asked to be here and you found your own pathway
Why sound anxious now. you got your wish."
 I look around and see: I am Gone.





Thursday, August 2, 2012

Silence

Silence...
A welcome sound.
Peace, when it's needed most.
Death, your arms reach out to grasp me.
...I'm here.

Take me...
I want to leave.
Life's sharp needles murder...
Sitting inside me just waiting...
Waiting...

Fall, 1973


Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Is Anybody There?

They say you're the professionals,
the ones I'm supposed to trust.
If you can help me I haven't seen it yet.
All we've done is paperwork
So  far it's been a bust.


I looked for help cause I'm depressed,
want to commit suicide
You won't even let me say the word aloud;
too much trouble I suppose.
You take it all in stride.


When do we get to therapy?
It has been quite awhile.
The medication has not started to work
I'm as depressed as I was
I'm feeling quite as vile.


When do I get some help from you?
What is it I have to do?
I'm still thinking about how to kill myself;
I still know how I'll do it
and when I'll bid adieu. 


How, when do I get through to you?
I've been trying to tell you;
you don't want to hear what I have been saying
so do I have to scream it
or just carry it through?