Suicide: Knowing the Signs and General Dos and Don'ts

We all know what suicide is, but few of us knows how to tell if someone is suicidal, and what to do if someone we love is contemplating suicide. Some seem to think that their loved ones are only at risk if they've had a bad breakup. Most of us have no idea what we should do if we were to find out that a loved one wanted to commit suicide. Call a therapist? Talk it out? Ignore it and hope the problem goes away?

I recently became very aware of how easy it is to overlook or misinterpret the signs of someone contemplating suicide. I also became all-too-aware that I had no idea what to do once I found out. I was led to believe that you just had to keep watch over your loved one and make an appointment with a therapist ASAP.

In the hopes that someone other than a few friends will read this, I have compiled a list of common symptoms of those contemplating suicide, as well as a few general dos and don'ts with dealing with a depressed loved one.

Common symptoms:
-Telling you "I want to kill myself."
-Giving away valued possessions.
-Withdrawing from family and friends.
-Taking unnecessary risks.
-Showing personality changes.
-Acting and looking depressed.
-Losing interest in favorite activities.
-HOPELESSNESS
Keep in mind, especially with adolescents, that these symptoms can be easily misinterpreted. It's common for teens to withdraw, let the grades slip, get moody, and do stupid things. Trust me, I know this all to well, and it's unfair. But life isn't fair. The only thing I can suggest to you is to communicate. Make sure your loved one knows that you're a safe person to talk to. Be loving and supportive.

On that note, here are the promised does and don'ts:

Do:
-Take him/her to the emergency room immediately. They'll have psychiatrists to assess your loved one and determine if he or she is a danger to him or herself, and what kind of treatment he/she needs.
-Be supportive.
-Always be there for him/her, no matter what he/she needs.

DON'T:
-Ignore the problem.
-Make your loved one feel ashamed for being depressed. Usually they can't help it.
-Make an issue about how expensive treatment/medicine/hospital stays are.

I hope at the very least this post gets you to stop and think. Hopefully more than just my "followers" will read this post.

Black, White, and Shades of Gray

In Psychology, I learned that children see the world in black and white. Stealing is wrong, always. Murder is wrong, always. It's when we hit the late teen years that we start seeing the shades of gray. Stealing is wrong...except when a person is stealing to save another's life. Murder is wrong...except when someone kills a man who raped a child. Hearing this in class really hit me, because I remember the days when I used to see the world like that. It's only been within the past few years that I've been able to truly see the shades of gray.

I used to (and still do) believe that abortion is wrong, and I also believed that it should be illegal. However, now I feel that if a woman absolutely feels like she has to have an abortion, she should be able to do so in a safe, sterile environment where she can have doctors on hand just in case something goes wrong during the procedure. In a similar vein, I believe that abstinance is the best way to go (it is the only 100% effective way of preventing pregnancy and STDs after all), but instead of schools teaching absinance-only sex ed, a better approach would to teach absinance as the better option, but educate teens on contraceptives as a backup plan.

It used to befuddle me that my opinions changed so much in just a couple years, which is why it is so interesting to me that there's an actual biological reason behind this change in mental processes that probably happens to all of us at one point or another. Can I just say that Psychology is the most fun class I have ever taken?

Feminism

Feminist. It can be a divisive word, depending on the circles you run in. Coming from a conservative background, I am used to the word feminist being used as an insult meaning "man-hater." Ultra-conservatives tend to use it to insult women who have the audacity to believe that women are equal to men. Yet others wear the name as a badge of pride. So what exactly is feminism? Perhaps there's no real answer; perhaps it depends on the woman.

For me, feminism in it's truest form is what feminists like Susan B. Anthony and Lucy Stone fought for--the right not to be discriminated against because of gender, the right to make their own choices, and the right not to be owned by a man. Many women still struggle with that. Society says that if you're a young and pretty woman, then heaven forbid if you have any brains. To many ultra-conservative men, a wife is nothing more than a servant who'll make babies and sew for him. I was exposed to this belief system for three years, but instead of allowing them to twist my mind into bowing to those beliefs, I came out a stronger person. A feminist, though perhaps more conservative than your average modern feminist.

I recently had an argument with my mother about feminism. We had just watched the movie Mona Lisa Smile (about a feminist teacher in the 50s trying to teach her female students that marriage and babies don't have to be their only goal in life), and I absolutely loved it. I was effusive in my praise for that movie. We argued about whether or not you can be conservative and feminist at the same time. I said yes, she said no. Sadly, a common misconception about feminists is that being a feminist means that you have to support abortion, promiscuity, and sexism against men. Sorry, but that's just not true. I'm pro-life, a virgin, am far from a man-hater, and yet I consider myself a feminist. The awesome thing about feminism is, you don't have to follow stereotypes. A stay at home mom can be just as feminist as a career-oriented woman, as long as it was solely her decision to be the stay at home mom/career-oriented woman.

My views on feminism influences my life in many positive ways. Regarding marriage, I intend to keep my own last name instead of taking my husband's if I ever marry, and I have no intention of vowing to "obey" him. I'm my own person and deserve to keep my own name, and my husband would be my equal, so why should I obey him? Another way feminism has influenced me positively is in my self-esteem. I am a self-sufficient young woman, and I'm completely happy that way. I exercise and take care of my body, not to please others, but to get more satisfaction out of my own life. Feminism. What do you think of the word now?

College, Work, etc.

A lot has happened since I last updated my blog. I started college as a full-time student. I finished training at my job, and am now a full-fledged Writing Consultant. I'm giving serious that as to who I'm going to vote for when elections come around. It's insane and at times hard to handle--my social life is practically nonexistant at times--but I think I'm fairly sure I'll survive the semester.

As I mentioned earlier, juggling school and work has been crazy! I have a 15 credit hour workload, plus 7 1/2 hours at work. And that's not including Writing Fellows! I am taking Biology of Man, College Algebra, Spanish, Intro to Psychology, and Concert Choir. Psychology is fascinating, but it covers a lot of information. My professor offers extra credit if we do five hours of volunteer work, and considering it's college, I'll take any extra-credit I can get! I'm volunteering at Kourage Kids, which is a day camp that hospice where my mom works does for kids 5-18 who've lost a loved one.

My first few weeks as a Consultant are definitely learning experiences. I've already come a long way from where I was--I used to be nervous about my first consultation--but I've still got a long way to go until I'm satisfied! My coworkers and my bosses are very supportive though, and I appreciate all the constructive feedback they give me.

One thing I haven't done in ages that I miss is craft a story of my own making. I guess I'm lucky that NaNoWriMo is coming up soon! It's going to be crazy fitting in writing a 50,000 word novel into my November schedule, but I'm going to try my darndest. I just miss writing stories!

And so ends my rather short, rambling blog post. Hopefully my next one will be thought through a little more!

The Studio

As I type this, my poodle is begging me to rub her tummy. If I don't, she'll keep rolling around and snorting annoyingly, and if I do I'll only be able to type with one hand and I'll be re-enforcing bad behavior, but at least she'll stop annoying me. Hopefully if I ignore her for long enough, she'll realize that nothing's going to make me rub her belly, especially while I'm typing.

As some of my readers may know, I started training for my job last week. I am a Writing Consultant at The Studio at my college, which basically means that a student can bring in his or her writing assignment to me during any stage of writing, be it planning, revising, or editing, and I'll help him/her improve his/her paper. It's more complex than that, but that's the general idea.

Also at my college I am a part of a brand new program that The Studio is trying out--it's part of our evil plan to take over the world, or so my bosses tell me. This program is called the Writing Fellows. As a Writing Fellow, I'd be directly involved in a classroom like Education or History. Eight to ten students would be assigned to me, and they would send their rough drafts of their essays (only two per semester) to me for me to write comments on and grade. After that they'd have a 30 minute consultation with me where I'd talk to them about how they could improve their paper (much like a writing consultation I'd do as a Consultant). I'd be in direct contact with the professor, figuring out what he/she considers to be good writing, talking about the assignment in general, etc. It's a thrilling prospect, and I'm so excited to be a part of it!

An extra job also means extra training, but only 8 extra hours. Today at Writing Fellows training, my bosses (both are English professors) gave us several of their students' essays. We went over each essay as a group, and we were to write down one strength of the paper we were going over, and three weaknesses, and how we might suggest that the student improve it. Then we'd talk it over, and then move on to another essay. It was very eye-opening; I was surprised by my ability to read what might be considered a "terrible" essay, but still be able to find a major strength that the writer could build on. I'm quickly learning that a person can know absolutely nothing about proper spelling and grammar, but still be an excellent writer!

Learning that has made me really think. I used to believe that people were either "good writers" or "bad writers," with nothing in between. Writing was a talent you either had or you didn't. I'm coming to realize that while you can have a natural skill at writing, being a good writer isn't a member's only, exclusive club. I'm also learning to accept that you don't have to be a grammar queen like I am to convey your message effectively.

Working in The Studio and learning what I'm learning, I'm reminded of a scene from The Blind Side. Michael, a poor reader, writer, and student, is believed by his teachers to be stupid. Only one teacher has faith in him: his science teacher. She finds a poem he had written and tossed aside, and then reads it aloud to the other teachers. It was beautifully written, in my opinion. His English teacher simply rolls his eyes and asks "How's the spelling?"

Summer Break Is Coming!

Summer break is fast approaching, and I'm going have so many interesting and new things going on! First and foremost, I have a job! It's an amazing turn of events, because I'd been looking for so long but once I've stopped looking the perfect job practically landed in my lap! I'll be training for a few days over the summer, and then I officially start working in the fall. I'm excited not only at the prospect of earning a regular paycheck, but also at the opportunity to meet new people, try new things, and develop new skills. I'm working at my college, which will be so convenient because they'll go out of their way to work my schedule to be flexible with my class schedule. The one downside about working is I won't be able to babysit anymore--I'll be way too busy! I'm gonna miss the girls.

I'm also going to be taking another English class over the summer, so that I'll have all of my required English classes out of the way. It'll be two evenings a week, and I'm glad I'm taking it because I usually get so bored over the summer and it'll keep me busy. I just hope it doesn't keep me too busy!

After summer of course comes fall, and I'll be starting as a full time college student. My sister and I are meeting with an academic advisor to get help deciding which classes we should take. I'm hoping to take Psychology in my first semester, since it's a career I may want to pursue. I've been assured by a couple of professors at my college that there's no pressure yet to decide my major, but I'd still like to have a general idea.

In the meantime, I'm very excited about leaving for vacation in just a couple of weeks! We'd originally been planning on going to Mexico Beach, Florida but thanks to the oil spill we had to make a change of plans. Now we're going to Washington, D.C.!

18

Well, I redid my blog template today, so I figured I'd post a new blog post in honor of that. Forgive me if I ramble.

Our birthday was ten days ago. I still find it hard to believe that we're eighteen. I mean, eighteen is supposed to be this magical age where now I'm a legal adult and get all the ensuing rights and privileges, and yet I feel no different than I did when I was seventeen. Eighteen has always been the age I'd be allowed to date, but as of yet I have no interest in dating or romantic relationships. I'm legally allowed to smoke now, but I'm too scared of ending up like Papa or my great aunt to ever want pick that up. And porn? Thanks, but no thanks.

One perk is that I'll be voting in November. I just hope some of the candidates are worth voting for. I'm not too terribly optimistic, though.

The Choking "Game"

Ever heard of it? Well, for those of you who don't know, it's a pastime that's becoming increasingly popular among teenagers (especially the younger ones) and preteens. In this game, the kids strangle themselves--either having a friend choke them by tying a rope or a belt around their neck, or by hyperventilating--for a short time. When they start to breathe again, the sudden rush of air gives them a high that becomes very addictive. It goes without saying that this "game" is very dangerous; it so often ends in severe brain damage or death.

If this is your first time hearing about this game, and if you're like me, you're probably thinking "Okay, who'd be stupid enough to strangle themself?" I remember sitting in science class in my freshman year, rolling my eyes as my science teacher went on yet another rant about how stupid teenagers are, and telling us we're so stupid for hyperventilating to get high and don't we know we're killing brain cells. I thought "Seriously, who would do that?" I've hyperventilated quite a few times--not on purpose, mind you--and my experience with that has always been negative.

The summer before that, I had gone to Georgia on vacation to visit family and friends. As is usually the case in family gatherings, I met many cousins that I never knew I had. One of them was only a year younger than my sister and I, so we hung out with her and her two younger sisters. Even though we didn't talk much, we had a lot of fun just playing games and hanging out at the park. I envied her good looks and grace. I saw her again the next summer, this time at a pool. Again, none of us did much talking. We just had fun swimming. I figured we'd have the rest of our lives to get to know each other better.

She died in October of 2008.

I was practicing the harp when the phone rang. My mom answered and talked for a couple minutes, and then hung up, looking upset. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me the news. My cousin had been found dead in her room that morning. I was so upset at the news that my nose bled. She was so young, so vibrant, so alive, how could she possibly be dead? She was only fifteen! I never found out how she died until a year later. She'd started doing the choking game with her friends (I'm not sure how long she'd been doing it), who would cut the ribbon when she needed them to. The night she died, she was alone. She tied the ribbon around her neck, but couldn't cut it in time. I can't even imagine how terrified and alone she must have felt in her last moments.

When my mom found out, she sat my younger brother down and told him about the "game," and how dangerous it is, and how our cousin had accidentally killed herself from it. My mom's sister did the same with her daughters. If you have a younger sister or brother that is a teen or preteen, I urge you to do the same. Tell them it's not a game. Chances are they already know, but you can't be too careful. My cousin was smart; you would've thought she would have known better. But her 16th birthday was celebrated with a boquet of daisies and festive Sweet 16 balloons decorating her grave.

Update

Since I haven't blogged in a while and people have been pestering me to update my blog, I figured I'd catch y'all up on what I've been up to lately. Come to think of it, I seem to do that in most of my blog posts.

Believe it or not, I've actually been keeping up with the whole exercising thing. And...dare I say it...I'm enjoying it immensely! I just love the feeling I get after a good workout. I always feel relaxed and very pleased with myself afterwards. Exercising has boosted my self esteem too, especially after I started seeing results! I feel so much better emotionally and physically than I have for a while. Now if only I could convince myself that eating my vegetables is worth the effort...

I'm also really enjoying college. Of course, I'm only taking one class right now, but already I can tell that college is so much better than high school! It's so laid back, which is completely opposite from the school I attended from 8th to 10th grade! I can't wait until Ashlea starts taking classes too--she'll love the cafe.

With harp, I'm preparing to put on a little harp recital in May at my church. In piano, my teacher found a two piano duet book that has a Patch the Pirate Songs Medley. She and I are planning on playing it for church in a few weeks. I grew up listening to Patch the Pirate, so obviously I love this piece!

Okay. I did my duty. Now don't bug me for at least another week, Skylar Batley!

Thoughts

I am, by nature, a very caring person. Just ask my friends. If someone has troubles, no matter who they are, I am more than willing to provide a hug, an encouraging note, a baked good, some advice, or a listening ear. I've comforted girls I barely knew with problems I barely understood--I've held them in my arms as they cried for whatever reason, and given them words of encouragement. When I saw the devastation in Haiti on TV, the suffering I saw rendered me unable to speak for several minutes. For some hours later, I only spoke when I had to. I'd give more examples, but I think you get the picture. My heart aches when I see someone hurting, and I feel this need to help them in whatever I can.

I've been thinking recently how I got to be this way. Was I born like this? Is it normal for another's harships to affect a person so? I know I've always been a sensitive person, but I believe it took specific events for me to reach this particular point. We are born with specific personality traits, yes, but it takes the events in our lives to bring them out and to shape them.


When I lived in Thomasville (from the ages of 7 to 13), I was friends with a girl who was a year younger than me. Our friendship was complicated. When I first met her she made me cry, having made some slurs about my former home in Athens, Georgia. But I am forgiving by nature (even more so when I was younger), and soon we became friends. She was fun to be around when she wanted to, but sometimes without warning or provocation she would lose her temper and lash out. She could be very cruel to others, to a degree I had never seen before in my young life. But since the one incident when I was first getting to know her, she had never struck out at me. She even defended me to others who gave me a hard time--which few people have ever done for me.

I just couldn't wrap my mind around how someone could lose their temper so easily, over absolutely nothing. There was one time when we were roller skating when she suddenly started screaming at the people around her, and no one could figure out exactly why. But I was one of her only friends, and I took that role seriously.

It wasn't until I was 12 or 13, after coming home from a vacation, that the truth finally came out. My friend, who in truth I barely knew and barely understood, had been raped by her step-father again and again from the time she was very small. When I found out, I wept. I also felt guilty, although that had been happening long before I knew her. I felt that I should have noticed the signs. I'd stayed the night at her house on more than one occasion, and I had seen how she and her stepfather interacted, and yet I never thought anything was wrong. Those feelings of guilt--and disgust that I had ever let that man touch me--still haunt me.

That event shook me. Suddenly, the world wasn't so good anymore. My eyes were opened, I suppose, to other's sufferings. It awakened in me a need to help and comfort those in pain. The world is full of people who, like my friend, are in need but are too afraid or ashamed to reach out for help. I want to be there for them.

My Soulmate

Soulmate: Noun. A person with whom one has a strong affinity.

According to wikipedia.com, "A soulmate is somebody with whom one has a feeling of deep and natural affinity, love, intimacy, sexuality, spirituality, and/or compatibility. A related concept is that of the twin flame or twin soul – which is thought to be the ultimate soulmate, the one and only other half of one's soul, for which all souls are driven to find and join. However, not everyone who uses these terms intends them to carry such mystical connotations."

When most people think of a soulmate, they think of the one person in the world that they're destined to meet and marry and live happily ever after with. That's not what I think of. Sure I believe you can fall in love with someone and have a wonderful life together, but I don't believe that there's someone out there that you're just "fated" to be with.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those people who doesn't even believe in soulmates at all. I do believe in them. I know I have one; one who can be described as my "other half." I was born with her. Am I unusual in my believe that God made twins, triplets, quadruplets, etc. to be each other's soulmates? Their completers?

I get asked "What's it like to be a twin?" a lot, and usually I don't know what to say. I usually reply "I don't know...what's it like NOT to be a twin?" or "It's hard to say, since I've been one all my life." But when I really stopped to think about it, I realized that being a twin is such an amazing gift. So here I'll try to convey what it's like.

Being a twin means I've never been alone for a single second in my entire life. And I mean that in a good way! My sister has always been someone I can count on. She'll always love me, and she'll always be here for me, and I for her. Not everyone has that assurance in life--to always have someone who cares about them.

I adore my sister. She's so many things that I am not, but that I strive to be. She's strong, hard working, brave, beautiful, soft-spoken, and so many other things. People have said that if my personality traits were merged with hers, we'd make one perfect person. It was that thinking that led me to believe that we're soulmates.

I normally don't care what people think about me, but Bekah is the one person I must please. If she disapproves of something that I do (which is rare), I feel like a little something inside of me dies. But whenever she compliments me or says anything positive to me, the joy I feel is indescribable. She's always very supportive of me, and I try to be the same way to her.

People also ask if Bekah and I have a special bond, and I would have to say yes. No, I can't read her mind telepathically, but our relationship is truly special. People can tell just by looking at us how close we are, and many find it intimidating. We're almost always holding hands, and it's not unusual for me to have an arm around her or vice versa. It's nothing weird, it's just the most natural thing in the world.

I never want to be parted from my sister. I don't even mind the thought of being single for my whole life, just as long as I can always be with her. I honestly don't know how I'd survive without her. She is my best friend, my soulmate, my sister, my entire world. And I thank God for her every day.

I Never Know What to Title These Things

It’s been a while since I last updated my blog, so I thought I’d just let y’all know what I’ve been up to, and maybe put in some random musings. I love this font, by the way. It’s called “Georgia,” so it reminds me of home. Whatever it takes, I suppose.

I’ve been rather busy lately, what with harp and piano practice, school, college English, trying to exercise (shocking, I know), and babysitting once or twice (sometimes more) a week. I’ve also found out new things about myself, and have tried out different ways of thinking.

For example, I recently realized my tendency to doubt my memory—I’ve always done this, but lately it’s becoming more of a problem. I do a school assignment, but an hour or so later I suddenly wonder “Did I really do my homework, or did I just think I did?” and I have to go back and make sure. It sounds funny, but it could get dangerous. The other day I took some ibuprofen (I always take three or four at a time), and ten minutes later I wasn’t sure if I had really taken any or not, so I had to ask my brother. I was fortunate that he remembered, otherwise I would have taken a few more. My dad assures me that when I doubt myself, there’s a 99% chance that I actually did what I’m wondering if I did, but the anxiety is still there.

As for trying out new ways of thinking, I’ve lately started thinking about why people do the things they do. Instead of just thinking “That jerk!” when the guy drove buy me while I was walking home and yelled an obscene suggestion at me, I started thinking about what would influence a person to do that. Instead of losing my temper or getting offended, I rationalized that he was just a pathetic little man trying to feel macho. Maybe I should have gotten offended, but if I got mad every time a guy said or did something inappropriate towards me I’d be almost perpetually angry. Not really a way I want to live my life.

Music has been my escape from the stress of day to day living. Music is almost a separate entity to me, living inside of me, continually swirling and dancing and singing. Playing an instrument is my way of releasing that passion—I often lose myself in the music. So much so that I don’t even notice the phone ringing, or even completely lose track of time. Simply listening to music (usually classical—my favorites are Beethoven and Tchaikovsky) has been known to move me to tears.

I’ve been missing my home a lot lately. I always miss it, but I go through stages where sometimes I miss it more and sometimes I miss it a bit less. I miss everything about it. The cotton fields, Southern voices and mannerisms, the smell of the Flowers bakery, the old-fashioned feel of downtown Thomasville, everything. I miss it so much that I’ve had several dreams about going back home in the past month alone.

On a positive note, being a babysitter is a real joy—even if I don’t earn much money from it. There’s just so much one can learn from being with small children on a regular basis. Not the least of which are patience and endurance! You haven’t known stress until you are looking after two crabby toddlers, both alternating between crankiness and extreme clinginess. I never knew small children could get so loud, or be so heavy.

The perks outweigh the pitfalls, though, at least for me. Just a couple weeks ago, the four year old girl didn’t want to eat her snack, so she instigated a chase—we ran all over the house, and every time I caught her I got to tickle her mercilessly and she had to eat a bit of her snack. The week before that I got to sing the one year old to sleep. You haven’t experienced life until you’ve had a small child fall asleep in your arms. I also love the way the one year old wraps her arms around my knees when I ask her for a hug, and the way the four year old thinks she’s scaring me when she randomly yells “BOO!”

All that to say, all y’all who think that all little kids are little terrors all the time, y’all are wrong. On the flip side, all y’all who think that little kids are so adorable 24/7 are wrong too. Just felt like throwing that out there.

And, finally…I’m fixin’ to turn 18 next month! We’re going to the beach to celebrate! Though I figure might should blog about that another time. This is probably the longest post I’ve ever written!

Musings

Today is January 8, which means in six days is the anniversery of my uncle's death. For the past couple of days, my mom has been searching for a bunch of pictures of her brother that she had received at his funeral. It worried her when she couldn't find them, which in turn worried me. It almost felt like if we had lost those photos, then somehow we weren't respecting his memory. While we were searching for the photos, we uncovered a bunch of other photos that I had never seen before. Photos of my mother's parents, who are both in Heaven now, when they were young.

For as long as I can remember, my mother has kept a framed picture of her mom in her room. A picture of her when she was very young, and very beautiful. I feel that my life has been shaped somewhat by Grandma Faye's early death--she died a year before my sister and I were born. I've grown up knowing that Faye's up in Heaven, and she loves us very much and she's always watching over us from Heaven. I don't know how theologically sound that is, but it helped shape my beliefs about death and Heaven. When I think of Heaven, I think of her. Always have.

Nowadays when I think of Heaven, not only do I think of her, but I think of my grandpa and my uncle. I also think of dancing. I'm not sure why dancing comes to mind, maybe because my grandpa is the one who taught me how to dance, but now I just can't imagine Heaven without dancing. Maybe that's why dancing is so special to me.

My mom finally found the pictures of her brother, much to our relief. I looked through them, and most of them made me laugh. He was so goofy, and he was also the only person I knew who could eat ketchup with literally everything.

Enough rambling for today. I hope I didn't depress anybody.