The Continuing Miracle of Surviving Suicide

I shouldn’t be alive to write this. I should be dead four times over—that’s how many times I’ve sincerely tried to kill myself. Trust me, these weren’t mere cries for help. They were wholly deliberate, planned-out attempts that ought to have resulted in certain death.

But I’ve learned the hard way that the body clings to life, regardless of how miserable that life may feel. It seems that hope for a better tomorrow is hard-wired into our physical beings, even if it can’t be grasped by our minds at the time.

However miraculous my survival is, there is nothing so unusual about my suicidal ideation, given my bipolar diagnosis. The rate of suicide in bipolar disorder is up to 30 times higher than that of the general population. Research has found that 20 percent of bipolar individuals will end their lives this way, while up to 50 percent will make a nonfatal suicide attempt.¹

Fifty percent. That’s an astonishing figure. But it means that, like me, many others have also survived a despair so great they thought death was the only solution. Miracles are apparently happening every day; only we don’t get to hear about them because of the shame and stigma that continue to surround the topic of suicide.

I have to admit, I myself find it hard to talk or write about my attempts. It’s easy to see how selfish they were—now that they are over. But at the time, my suffering completely overwhelmed me. It was impossible to consider what consequences my actions would have on anyone else. There was only me and the almighty pain.

So what do you do when you’ve been granted a miracle? You accept it gratefully. You live in the joy of unexpected reprieve. This doesn’t mean that life is perfect—there are still deep, dark mysteries that I can’t fathom, like why such suffering has to exist in the first place. But I must let go of my anger over that and recognize that the specter of suicidality has passed me by, and I’m still alive. I can make of my existence whatever I desire.

And I’m doing just that. I’m in a healthy, committed relationship; I get to write for a living, which I love; when I wake in the morning, I look forward to the day’s unfolding. Now that I’m sober, my medications are working—hooray—and therapy continues to surprise and enrich me. Most astonishingly, I can make plans for the future and keep them. I have a hard-won expertise in survival that will not let me down.

For me, outlasting four suicide attempts has led to a profound conviction that I must exist for a reason: to bear witness to the pain that nearly consumed me and affects so many others, and to make people understand, at a visceral level, that a bipolar diagnosis need not be a sentence of death. I’ve realized, finally, that I’m not meant to let go of this life I’ve been given, not yet. There’s more to come; my book isn’t finished.

Word by word, line by line, page by page, the plot reveals itself. And I can’t wait to read what happens next.

If you or someone you love is contemplating suicide, seek help immediately. For help 24/7, dial 988 for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, or reach out to the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741. To find a therapist near you, visit the Psychology Today Therapy Directory.