Anatomy of a Suicidal Mind

Seeking the Why

By Heidi Quinn

Forward by Angie Corbett-Kuiper

I am so grateful to know Heidi Quinn (a name she has asked me to use to keep her truth private). She is a beautiful woman who, on the precipice of contemplating her own suicide, eloquently put her experience into writing—a journey many have contemplated, but few willingly complete, and even fewer share, especially women.  I am so honored she shared with me this insight into the pain and hopelessness that goes through her mind. 

We hope that looking through the eyes and into the mind of Heidi will shed a glimmer of light on a subject that, until now, for most, is taboo and foreign.   Thank you, Heidi, thank you. I hope that by making her soul and mind known, we as a society will not judge when the dis-ease does not present as physical but emotional instead. When we judge the act and label it selfish due to the pain it causes us, maybe it is at this point that we take the focus off ourselves.  We need to begin to understand that nothing, absolutely nothing anyone else does in their own life, is our responsibility, and that their actions or inactions, whatever they may be, should never be taken personally.  This mindset, it seems to me, could lift the burden and guilt which blankets pain-stricken survivors left wondering and asking: What did I do?  What could I have done differently? If only….

Please read Heidi’s words.  I hope you glean a pearl of hope, especially if you are struggling with the pain left in the wake of a loved one’s choice. You never know whose life you have the opportunity to brighten or change with a simple gesture, a simple word, an authentic smile…you may be giving them a reason to live just one more day.

Thank you, Heidi.  You are appreciated and loved.  I am so glad you were born, that I met you, that I know you, and I am honored that you have chosen to trust me to share your soul.

 Angie

Heidi Quinn's words (Unedited)

Understanding why a loved one chose to end their life can be something that tortures you through waking and sleeping hours. It sets some people on a path of endless what-ifs and for others, the question of why becomes a constant companion. What I didn’t know until recently is that not everyone has had thoughts of suicide or wanting their body to just stop and let them go.  For me these thoughts have been an occasional companion since I can remember and something I assumed everyone has had and therefore deemed a normal part of the average existence. In hopes of providing some understanding and helping those who don’t have these thoughts or feelings, I am going to provide a description of my experiences.

Sometimes it can start with an angry interaction that catches you off guard, and suddenly you feel your existence pouring out of an invisible wound. There are many scenarios. But for each person on any particular day, the trigger can be a sudden and overwhelming onset, or it could be feelings that have been slowly creeping up. I generally experience the slow insidious building of feeling increasingly tired, useless, and overwhelmed. It’s like a small vacuum starts to form somewhere in the middle of you, an aching, a weighing down, a hollowing that cannot seem to be filled.

We’ve all had bad days. Days that leave you unhappy, tired, fatigued, perhaps hopeless or at a loss as to where to go from here. The path to considering suicide can start here—where it is not just one day or two, but many, maybe not even sequential. You are left drained, a bit vulnerable. And before you have recovered or built up strength, another weight is added and the slow fall begins, a slow descent during which you want to seem normal and fine to others. You try to convince yourself that you are fine, everything is fine. You smile and fake it and play the part till you feel there is hope, but inside the vacuum is growing.

Sometimes being around others provides distraction, relief, a lightening somehow. Then, eventually, you are alone again. And in the quiet you feel the vacuum, the weight pulling at your center, the voice of doubt and self-loathing whispering from within, the feelings of loss, worry, fear, helplessness, hopelessness, failure, disappointment. Sometimes there is no word to describe the feeling, but you feel low, low on energy, low in spirit, low on strength. When you realize it’s happening you try to pull up, you try to find purpose, distraction, strength. But sometimes it’s like struggling in quicksand or trying not to slide into a hole in slow motion. You grasp at the sides but come up with handfuls of loose dirt. Slowly gravity is pulling you down in but there is no panic, no survival instinct kicking in, no rush of adrenaline. Sometimes you cry and it helps, sometimes you feel worse. Sometimes you get angry and it helps, sometimes you feel worse.  People say talk about it. “Are you angry at me?” “What is going on with you?” Putting words to it is hard, often impossible. Trying to find the words makes things worse because it sounds stupid, nonsensical, you don’t know why, you don’t know how to stop it. Words to describe it are just out of reach—just like words that will make it stop.

There is a tipping point. A point where the pain within, the hopelessness, takes over.  You have completely turned in on yourself. You can only see your need for relief and the direction your pain is coming from: the kids at school that have made you miserable, the problems in your life that you can’t overcome, your personal failures that you cannot redeem.  You are deep within the hole. You are in a place where everything looks like black velvet at night. You can see no way out, you can think of no one to talk to, and you have nothing to say. There is only you. There is only this aching, hollow space somewhere in the middle of you, in a place with no way out, no future, no solution, no escape from the pain of existence…. Except to not exist.

At this point the focus shifts to the plan.  When someone has made the decision and is working on a plan, it is like the dark hole suddenly opens up and you are standing on a precipice. All that needs to be done is to decide how and when, and then jump. This plan is like a goal—set much like any other we have in our lives. We plan to get to the goal but not what happens after we attain it.  I will graduate college, I will find a spouse and marry, I will save up to buy a car, I will retire at 55. What is not answered is: and then what? The answer typically is: and then I will be happy. In this case, the answer is: and then I will have relief, this pain will be over, this internal torture will end. I think in everyday life we are always considering how our behavior affects those around us. We try to be courteous, considerate, provide personal space, proper greetings and goodbyes. What is not on your radar at this point is how those that love you will carry on after—it is there somewhat, but pain relief and inward focus take up 99% of your thoughts.  It is not that you are inconsiderate or don’t love people, but the pain and inward focus has taken over. 

The question has probably occurred to you: why are you still here, Heidi? My answer is: I don’t know exactly. I’ve stood upon the precipice, hung a foot off, but didn’t jump.  No one stopped me. No one in my family and none of my friends knew then, or know now, how close I have come.  I remember having some sense that what I was doing wasn’t right.  Something made me stop and give it another day. I have had people in my life commit suicide, so I have experience in coping with the aftermath and the resulting tailspin this decision causes. I often think if that person had known how much of a positive difference they made to so many people they would have made a different choice.  I have come to understand now that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. The best advice I have is: tell all the people in your life about the positive difference they make. Let them know. It’s awkward for most of us, but it gets easier with practice and is so worthwhile. I say all the people in your life because often the person closest to making the decision to end their life is the person you least expect. Your positive words, at the very least, brighten someone’s day and brings you closer to them—but those positive words could also save a life, give someone the strength to live one more day.