Suicide: The Loss of Hope

The last time I wanted to kill myself was on Christmas Day, 15 years ago. I’ve been free of the death-grip symptoms of Bipolar Disorder since that ill-fated day. But thoughts of suicide still linger in my consciousness: driving over a bridge, standing next to a balcony railing or on a subway platform, even a wire coat hanger can trigger the thought. But they are just that—thoughts. They have no power. For over a decade and a half I have had no suicidal intent whatsoever. Others are not so lucky.

Suicidal ideation is often so covert family and friends are not even aware a loved one is struggling with a desire to take their own life. As such, there are no records of how many Americans contemplate suicide every year. It’s likely in the tens of millions.

Although mental illness, addiction, irreconcilable feelings of sadness, anger, and shame may play a role in the onset of suicidal ideation, the reasons why some complete suicide while others abort their plan are equally perplexing. Rationality and emotionality make for bad bedfellows. And so the act of suicide will forever remain a mystery. However, there is a clue as to what may start one on a trajectory toward suicidal ideation: the loss of hope.

As a Suicide Prevention Counselor, the common themes with nearly all my callers were psychological isolation, emotional detachment, chronic loneliness, a lack of connection to others—even to themselves. They had lost sight of any meaning or purpose in their lives. They had lost all hope.

The following statistics are a tragic indication of this lack of hope:

In 2018, a survey estimated 0.5% of adults made at least one suicide attempt. This translates to approximately 1.4 million adults, or the population of Dallas, Texas.

In 2015, (the most recent year for which data is available), approximately 575,000 people visited a hospital for injuries due to self-harm, or the equivalent of 10 times the capacity of Yankee Stadium.

In 2019, 47,511 people died from suicide. 130 people a day, or the equivalent of the Miami condo disaster death toll happening every single day of the year. This number does not even include the 93,000 drug overdoses in 2020, an increase of 30% from the previous year.

As crisis counselor it is important to take a neutral stance on suicide, certainly never to strip a caller of the only choice they felt they had left: suicide. The overwhelming majority of callers on the hotline just wanted to share their story with someone who cared. Don’t we all?

My role was to listen with an open heart. Seek to unearth, understand, and illuminate the reasons why the caller hadn’t acted upon their suicidal thoughts, reached out for help, called a crisis line. Was it the love of friend? partner? sibling? parent? Did religion or spirituality play a role in their decision to resist a suicide attempt? Were they worried about who would take care of their children if they suicided? For some, even the love of a pet was reason enough to keep on living.

The number of suicides deceased in 2020. With all the fear, uncertainty, and despair one would have thought the pandemic would have increased the suicide numbers. But the crisis brought people together emotionally, even though they were separated physically. This emotional connection was evident in the aftermath of the 9-11 tragedy as was the recent tragedy in Miami, Florida. Large scale disasters have a way of bringing out the best in people. Acts of kindness, compassion, and generosity lead to a sense of stronger human connection. But it often fades with the passing of time.

So, inevitably, when the impact of pandemic subsides the rate of suicide will more than likely return to pre-Covid levels. Deeply wounded souls will once again be plunged back into raging states of ambivalence. To be, or not to be; that will be their question. For more than 50,000 people a year in the United States, their answer will be lethal.