I am standing on the edge, looking out at the lights of the city.  I am usually terrified of heights, but not now.  Now I am in control.

To be Shakespearean: to be, or not to be, that was the question.

Three months earlier, I had tried to end my life.  I survived.

This was different.  Every night now for several nights.  Back at the edge.  In control.  Feeling so calm.  So in control.

Nobody would miss me.  If they did, it would be on my terms.  In control.

I called again, just like the last night.  It was a different person, but I knew his voice from before.

I always said, “I’m calling to say goodbye.”

Now someone would know.  But no one would care.

Except for this Samaritan, he cared.

Last night’s Samaritan cared, too.

I stood here almost every night.

They cared, but could not help.

I knew I needed help.  I didn’t know where to get it.

After a suicide attempt, a psychiatrist needs to be on the team, and they are in short supply.

They all took my name and number.

Most called back.

None could help.

They all wished they could.

I had no control.  Nobody could help.  Nobody cared.  So, every night I went back to the edge.

Balancing my life and my mental health but in control.

The Samaritans kept talking to me, night by night.  Those calls kept me alive long enough to find the help I needed.

Then, I found the Crime Victims Treatment Center.  They cared, and they had a psychiatrist.

With the right care, things slowly got better.  I am still here, and I have spent the years since working to protect children from the kind of trauma that put me on that edge.

What needs to change

Years later, there is still an acute shortage of psychiatrists,¹ and it is still challenging to get mental health treatment.  Often, the only route involves a psychiatric emergency room—an important place, but not a fun getaway.

Suicide still claims nearly 49,000 American lives a year.²  We need to address the mental health crisis through treatment and prevention as a nation.  As long as two-thirds of us complete our childhoods with Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs),³ we will continue to have a growing need and cost for treatment.  I have an ACE score of five.  About one in six American adults has four or more.³

We do far too little to prevent ACEs.  In a country with one of the world’s highest GDPs, two-thirds of children end their childhoods with at least one ACE, and those with four or more face four to twelve times the risk of alcoholism.⁴  Those survivors form a substantial part of America’s suicide problem.

Perhaps we should start with the low-hanging fruit?  Start by preventing the harm caused to children by ACEs by providing home visiting services to mothers who need help.  For many of us, childhood may be a lesson in how not to parent.  Helping good people become good parents is what home visiting programs do.  You can read more about them here, and please sign a petition to support their funding here.

Andrew was a Captain in the British Army before practicing integrated marketing communications and marketing, mostly for global brands.  A survivor of child sexual abuse, domestic violence, and suicide, Andrew dedicated the second half of his life to protecting children from trauma.  Andrew has an ACE score of 5.  Authors express their own opinions which do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Stop Abuse Campaign.