Tag Archives: depression

Our Plan B Life

25 Alternatives to Suicide

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I’ve told a few friends about what I’d say on a suicide crisis help line to people considering death as an option, and they’ve said it’s a helpful approach, so I’ll share it with you here too:

The Right to Die

I believe everyone has the right to die. I don’t judge people who choose to end their own lives: that’s their call, and if it eases their suffering (physical or emotional or mental) then I understand why death is a tempting solution.

But given that death is final — the most final option available to us — I propose we list suicide as our Plan Z. It’s something to try when all the other less-final alternatives have been attempted, and haven’t worked.

That leaves us with 25 alternatives: Plans A through Y.

25 Alternatives

The Easiest Alternative

Plan A (the easiest plan) is to do nothing: to not change anything in our life. But usually Plan A will fail because the person who is considering suicide finds their current life or mental state intolerable.

So Plans B through Y involve making some sort of change.

The Extreme Alternative
Prozac saved me in my 20s.

The closest I’ve ever been to considering suicide was when I was in my 20s, but my depression/anxiety never got bad enough to make me want to die. I just craved numbness: the world was overwhelming and too rough for me. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore.

That’s the closest I’m been to understanding the wish to die, so we’re going to work with that desire for numbness.

Obviously death provides that numbness, which makes it a good choice for Plan Z. But drugs (alcohol, meth, heroin, etc.) also are super at numbing us to the world.

So Plan Y = drug-induced oblivion.

Alternatives C through X

We now have three potential courses of action (Plans A, Y and Z), which leaves us with 23 others.

Those alternatives include (in whatever order you choose to place them, from easiest to most intimidating):

  • quitting your job
  • moving
  • breaking up/separating/divorcing
  • estranging yourself from your family
  • exercising
  • calling a suicide help line (numbers are below) or calling 9-1-1
  • travelling to some faraway country
  • choosing an impossible dream and abandoning everything else in your life to pursue it
  • retail therapy: max out those credit cards and buy the X you’ve always longed for
  • plastic surgery
  • putting your kid(s) up for adoption, or leaving them with a friend or family member for awhile
  • going to school or learning a new skill that interests you
  • eating anything you want
  • starting a blog where you write down your most personal experiences and thoughts
  • adopting a pet
  • anti-depressant medication
  • sharing photos of your life on Instagram or etc.
  • telling person X what you’ve always wanted to tell them, even though it’s super embarrassing/scary/painful/awkward

Et cetera.

If you’re able to make a plan to end your life, why not use that small reserve of energy to try Plan B instead? And if that doesn’t work out, Plan C. Plan D. And so on.

The Fallacy

The problem with my 25 Alternatives approach is that when someone is depressed enough to consider suicide, they might not be able to dig themselves out of that pit enough to see the logic of this approach.

So it’s best to consider these alternatives before you’re that sad, and then maybe someday, when you find yourself considering death as a viable option, you’ll remember you have 25 less-permanent options to try first.

Suicide Crisis Help Lines

9-1-1

In Canada: 

1-833-456-4566 (24 hours/daily)

Resources on this webpage.

In British Columbia specifically:

1-800-SUICIDE (784-2433)

Click here for online chat lines from noon to 1am.

In the US:

1-800-SUICIDE (784-2433) (yes, the same number as in B.C.)

text MATTERS to 741741 (24 hours/day)

Resources on this webpage.

Internationally:

Via this webpage.

A Year of Re-Skilling

Post-Partum Depression is (Sometimes) Bullshit

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Post-partum depression is (sometimes) bullshit. I believe this so much that I’m repeating the headline.

I included the “(sometimes)” part because I’m sure that some women really do get clinically depressed after having a baby. I don’t want to devalue their experience: I’m sure it’s legit and very tough, and I’m glad there are resources out there to help these mamas.

That said, I know lots of women who are unhappy after having a baby — downright sad, miserable and gloomy, who might even regret getting knocked up in the first place, and these mamas don’t necessarily have clinical depression. They’re just HUMAN BEINGS who have experienced something traumatic, their life has changed irrevocably, and they continue to be tortured by sleep deprivation, physical trials and natural hormonal imbalances.

Having a baby can be a super shitty experience, from the pregnancy experience to the birth and right on through the child-rearing stages.

I was downright miserable for at least 18 months after Isaac was born. It’s not his fault: he was/is a great kid. I just hated being responsible for a baby.

Actual conversation from 2014:

WELL-MEANING FEMALE COUSIN: “Aw, look at him! You must be loving every minute.”

HEATHER: “Actually, no, this is hell and I’m living a nightmare. The only reason I’m laughing right now is because I’m exhausted.”

I’m naturally a positive, optimistic person and so I thought to myself, “don’t be so gloomy. Focus on the happy moments.” So I designated a “Happiness Jar” and told myself I’d write down every happy moment and put the slip of paper into the jar. I found that jar when we moved two years later: there were three slips of paper inside it. Three happy moments in one year. Yep, that sounds about right.

I was not, at any time, depressed. I’ve been depressed before. I ate Prozac for eight years in my twenties. I understand the kind of depression that motivates self-harm and suicide and self-medication. I was never depressed as a new mom, and so “post-partum depression” does not describe what I felt.

Any human being, even trained soldiers, can crack when sleep deprived. That is why it’s a method of torture.

And yet we tell new mamas they are “sick,” they’re not “normal” new moms, if they aren’t happy caring for their babies. They are labeled with “post-partum depression,” when many of these struggling moms (most of them?) are just human beings in new, very trying circumstances.

I didn’t realize how angry this all made me until my very good friend was told by her doctor that she had post-partum depression. I know depression, and I’ve even seen this friend clinically depressed, and PPD was not the right diagnosis.

This doctor had never had children, so maybe she can be sorta forgiven for her ignorance, but still.

New mamas are vulnerable to judgement. Maybe we’ve never changed a diaper before, or held a newborn, or are just figuring out how to breastfeed. It seems unforgivably cruel to me to then tell this vulnerable new mama that she is not “normal” or healthy because she’s struggling emotionally. That she’s mentally ill with depression.

The one good thing about my friend being “diagnosed” with PPD is that she started to see a counsellor, which I think is almost always a good thing because it helps to talk about stuff. AND, because she had counsellor’s appointments, she got a little break from taking care of her baby. Awesome. About time.

There aren’t many issues in this world that get me angry. But I’m often tempted to take on post-partum depression.

I want a world where it’s okay to say: “Wow, this is really tough. I’m having a hard time with this new mom thing. Babies are so goddamn needy and I’d love to have a shower, drink a hot tea and read a book like a normal person,” and then your doctor would hook you up with a great respite program and book you into the spa. They wouldn’t respond with: “There’s something wrong with you. You’re sick. Most moms don’t feel this way.”

I call bullshit.

Isaac eats cotton candy for the first time.

[Note: Isaac is about to turn four years old. The older he gets, the more I like and LOVE him. I’m finally experiencing that “whole heart” ache of love that some baby moms describe. Motherhood got infinitely better for me after about 18 months, and I hope all mamas who struggle with the baby years find their own groove eventually too.]