And came across a stunning letter.
I'm reposting it here, because, not only do I need the reminder, but it's just a beautiful letter, and, well, it's truth.
When you come to me for help, I want to help you
I hope you will let me.
I cannot know your secrets without your words.
I hope you will tell me.
Tell me, please, your thoughts of suicide.
You might feel scared to tell me
When I ask if you are thinking of suicide.
I will try to help you feel safe.
I will not judge you.
I will not interrogate you.
I will not panic.
I will listen gently as you tell your story
In your own words, in your own way
Suicide might tell you not to tell me.
Suicide might tell you I am your enemy.
Suicide lies.
Suicide might tell you that no one could possibly help you,
That dying is the only way to end your pain.
Suicide might even tell you that you are a bad person
Defective, undeserving of life
Or love, or hope, or compassion.
Please, tell me.
I cannot help you fight the enemy
If you do not tell me about the enemy.
The enemy that is trying to kill you.
Do not trust your suicidal thoughts.
They are not rational.
They are a symptom, a cry from inside.
Something inside you needs healing.
Healing, not killing.
Tell me, please, what suicide tells you.
Does it tell you everything that is wrong with your life?
Everything that is wrong with you?
Suicide plays tricks with truth,
Telling only the truths that make you want to die.
Hiding the truths that make you want to live.
The pieces of hope.
The pathways to healing.
The possible.
Tell me, please.
Or somebody else.
I am one of many people who can help you.
But nobody can help you if you tell nobody.
Thank you.
One day, you will thank you too.
For telling.
For surviving.
(© Copyright 2014 Stacey Freedenthal, PhD, LCSW, All Rights Reserved.)
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