Today is World Suicide Prevention Day

Trigger warning: suicide attempt

A letter to the student who survived a suicide attempt and came to get help at my clinic,

I don’t know your story, other than what I read in the triage nurse’s note. I didn’t come talk to you, instead monitored from a distance while the NP, nurse, medical director, and patient navigator coordinated care because I knew that soon enough you wouldn’t be allowed a moment alone. I also had a clinic to run with several other patients coming in with serious chief complaints all at the same time so I thought I couldn’t stop in.

But I wanted to.

I wanted to ask if I could sit with you, talk to you about something other than all the horrible thoughts going through your mind for the past however long. To try to stop the barreling train of “oh shit, what have I done?? I already can’t afford therapy and I sure as hell can’t afford to go to the ER or a psych hospital. How am I ever going to dig myself out of this now?? Why couldn’t it have just worked?”

Or maybe you do want to talk about it. To be able to finally say some of those things out loud to another human being.

I would have understood. Oh, you have no idea how much I would have understood.

I would have told you that I’ve weathered that same storm. Not in the same boat, I would never make that false comparison. I was incredibly lucky that my work even offered a part time position with benefits, let alone that one opened up right when I was at my most overwhelmed and that my insurance covered an intensive therapy program. But I too have looked at my life and felt in my bones that it wasn’t worth living anymore. Sometimes I still do, though those moments are much more fleeting and I know how to move through them now.

I would have commended your incredible bravery for coming in to seek help, for telling your story numerous times, for probably knowing that all the whispered conversations in the clinic were about you and yet you stayed where you would be safe and didn’t let shame tempt you to run away or attempt again.

I would have looked you in the eyes and said that you are meant to be alive and that we were going to get you the help you need. That it is going to be terrifying and hard but that someone would be with you every step of the way. That you don’t have to hold this alone.

I would have given you a hug if you wanted it. Held your hand if you wanted. Or just gently witnessed while you shook or cried or just sat silently exhausted.

Please know that even though you didn’t meet me, I’m thinking of you tonight. I hope you’re able to rest and maybe, just maybe, even feel safe and supported for the first time in a while.

I believe that you will feel joy again, that you will find an anchor to this world to steady you when those insidious thoughts creep in, that you will heal. That you’ll someday believe how strong and wonderful and worthy you are.

I will be looking to see your name on a graduating class list someday.

Reframing Regrets

I wish I'd started this blog when I first bought the domain back in 2018. If I had been consistent, I would have been poised to report my perspective on the front lines of the COVID-19 pandemic.

I would have been on the cutting edge of the current wave of discussion on secondary PTSD and compassion fatigue in nursing. I could have discussed the health disparities experienced by people of color (primarily black and Latinx folks) and the wave of race-based violence against those of Asian descent. I could have shared the infuriating experience of being both upheld as a “healthcare hero” and demonized as a vocal advocate of “the jab,” especially as healthcare professionals were increasingly taken advantage of by hospital administrations and experiencing violence from their patients. I could have been a source of education for family, friends, and expanding circles without having to have dozens of separate, draining conversations.

But I didn’t. The former journalism major in me had high hopes for this domain when I created it right after obtaining my RN license as a rosy-eyed graduate of Change the World From Here University of San Francisco. But by the time I got my first full-time RN gig, my NCLEX-question-saturated brain was overwhelmed with adapting to the demands of the real-world, short-staffed, poorly-resourced healthcare industrial complex. By the time I was starting to feel confident in my nursing, the pandemic hit and changed everything I thought I knew.

It also became immediately apparent that the perfectionism that had allowed me to excel in the academic world was a huge detriment to me as a nurse and millennial trying to do that adulting thing. As much as I wish I had kept a "live journal" of my experiences, I first had to work through the shadow side of perfectionism - that insidious obsession with making my arguments airtight to defend against potential criticism and uphold my reputation as a Master’s-educated nurse. It felt impossible then to devote the time, attention, and emotional energy that blogging would have required of me.

So, why now?

The simple answer: I now have the time and space - my current role in a college health clinic offers much better work-life balance than working nocs at a hospital. A deeper answer: I am finally (mostly) okay with producing an imperfect product. I’ve accepted that I was too busy surviving the pandemic while it was happening and that reflecting on it after the fact is still valid. An even deeper answer: my unique perspective as a nurse with multiple chronic illnesses means I have a lot of things to say about how America’s healthcare system works (or doesn’t) and how it can be so much better.

In short, I could continue to wait for an "opportune time" (as if that exists), or I can build the framework, start writing, and develop the skill now. And lucky you! If you’re reading this post you get to begin this journey with me :)