A few critical things to note about suicide.
First, suicide is usually not about wanting to die.
One of the strongest findings in suicidology is that: most suicidal people do not primarily want death.
They want: unbearable psychological pain to stop, hopelessness to end, shame to end, emotional suffering to stop, a problem they believe cannot be solved to disappear, researchers sometimes call this psychache (Edwin Shneidman).
In other words: suicide is often an attempt to escape intolerable suffering rather than a genuine desire for nonexistence.
Another personal example I would like to share.
When my son was five years old, there was a threat to have him removed from me. It was a real and palpable threat. I collapsed onto the floor, crying, pleading, screaming, and in the middle of my emotional breakdown, I started to think about what pills I had at home to call it a day if he was taken from me. I thought about it and I meant it, clear as day. I knew I would not survive losing him, and I had no plans to endure that loss. So I thought of pills. The threat to take him was neutralized, but the pain did not ebb away easily. I confessed to my mom and my aunt that night that if the situation had happened, I planned to take pills. I would be done. If he is taken, I will be done. My aunt prayed for me and my mother hid all pills, a futile attempt to stop something that couldn’t be stopped if I meant it. That threat, that incident, is still a trauma that weighs on me. I was completely and absolutely certain of what I would do.
Second, suicide is usually multifactorial.
There is almost never one cause.
Instead, suicide usually develops from multiple interacting factors: depression, bipolar disorder, substance misuse, trauma, PTSD, chronic pain, financial crisis, relationship loss, unemployment, social isolation, discrimination, family conflict, severe physical illness, and previous suicide attempts
Research consistently finds that suicide emerges from an interaction between vulnerabilities and acute stressors rather than a single event.
I can understand and agree with this research. My attempt at the University of Ghana wasn’t just about the “shove”, it was about all the other times I felt rejected, by that particular person and by others, all the times I felt unloved and unwanted. It was accumulated pain. It was also depression, BPD, PTSD, family conflict and several things all at once.
Third, previous suicide attempts are the strongest predictor of a future attempt.
Among all known risk factors: A previous suicide attempt is the single strongest predictor of future suicide. WHO identifies this as the most important individual risk factor.
And this is the data that got me onto anti-depressants.
In 2024, when my well-known (if you’ve been following along on my journey) and devastating heartbreak (discard) happened, I completely unraveled. I was broken. I was undone. Days later, I was hospitalized due to the trauma and the impact on my immune system.
As soon as I was discharged, recovered at home for a bit, and showed up to my therapy appointment, my therapist insisted I had to go on anti-depressants, whether I wanted to or not. He even considered psychiatric hospitalization for me. It was that bad. He knew he was dealing with a patient who had attempted suicide before based on an earlier heartbreak, a patient who struggled with big emotions, who had run away from home before, and who had just been hospitalized because of breakup trauma.
It was all a catalyst for something that could happen again. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. I did not want medications because I feared the meds would change me, but I also did not want to be admitted to a psych ward. I felt it would impact my life and my future. But I was suffering deeply. I was a mess. I was struggling to cope. My life was at risk, so eventually I accepted the anti-depressants.
Two things saved my life the period following the devastating discard – the medications which dialed down the emotions, and my son.
I remember once, when I told my ex that people with BPD struggle with suicide, he said to me, ‘but you can never do that right, you have Kojo.’ He was right about that. My son kept me going, he keeps me going. I never want to lose him, and I never want him to lose me, ever. It doesn’t mean I didn’t get to the brink following the heartbreak, but the thought of my son losing me is incredibly painful. I would be lost without him, and I know he would be lost without me too. I clung to that, in addition to popping much needed pills!
Fourth, related to my comments above, social connection is protective.
One of the most replicated findings is that people are less likely to die by suicide when they experience: belonging, supportive relationships, feeling understood, feeling valued, hope, and access to care.
Conversely, perceived isolation and feeling like a burden are associated with increased risk.
I have hinged my life on my son. Obviously, someone would say that has its own risks. What if my son and I become estranged in the future? What if he leaves me, abandons me? I have decided that what is important to me, for my survival, is my love for him, and not the other way around. So long as he exists, I will love him and I will live to be around for him. It is somewhat unhealthy, I know, but it is what I have for now. He is my anchor, my tether, nothing else seems to have as much weight as living for my son. I don’t really have a sense of belonging without that.
Recently, I wrote about loneliness, an article published on my Substack that spurned deep reactions from readers. I am lonely, I am not going to lie about that. I seek mature, healthy, supportive partnership and friendships, but I am also afraid, of rejection, abandonment, of pain. I don’t want to suffer the way I have in the past. I don’t want to be hurt. I don’t want to be let go like I mean nothing. And so I hide and focus on what is in front of me, the son who depends on me. Relationships are costly, and I fear the next one could cost me my life for sure. And so I focus on my son, healing myself, and stabilizing and maintaining a decent life. I do wish I had more in my life, but I don’t yet have the capacity or the skills to risk going for more. Maybe someday.
By Boakyewaa Glover