Absolution

So my last patient of the day, today, tells me, "Look, when I kill myself, I don't want you to feel like it's your fault. It's nothing you did, or didn't do, it's just...inevitable."

Yeah. Thanks.

I know sometimes suicide seems....well, painless. And like a viable option for ending what seems like an endless pain. And honestly, I'm not entirely sure why we as a profession spend so much time and energy trying to keep people alive who really are in interminable physical or psychic pain and have made a rational decision to end that. But...let me tell you something, folks. Suicide is never painless. It's universally devastating to families. And even if you think your family won't care - someone will miss you. Maybe the guy at the place you go for coffee. Maybe your neighbor, your paper boy. Your dog, the receptionist at work. Your shrink. Someone will mourn you. They'll ask themselves what else they could've done. They'll ask themselves why. They'll wonder how you lost hope when there's so much to live for.

Don't miss out on what's still to come. And don't let the legacy of sorrow and unanswered questions that always comes with suicide be what you leave behind.

I know I've said this before, but, reach out. Find that someone who will miss you. Call. Talk. Be heard. Speak about whoever or whatever it is that's hurting you. Because, after all, it's the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.