Suicide Isn't Selfish—There, I Said It
We must reframe the problem of suicide as the act of a suffering, not a selfish, person.
My first exposure to suicide came in elementary school. There were two boys—one a grade ahead of me, the other a grade behind me—whose mother was killed in a car accident. A year later, their dad took his life. I remember my mom commenting on how selfish an act that had been. This is my earliest memory of suicide, that it is a very selfish thing to do.
But I’ve since come to realize that nothing could be further from the truth. Selfishness says that I will do what is best for me, and suicide by definition is the antithesis of that. Suicide is the worst thing that I can do to myself. I’d love it if we could dispense with the “suicide is selfish” idea. When a person loses the will to fight against cancer and allows their body to succumb to the disease, do we accuse them of being selfish?
I get what people mean when they say that. What they should say is, “Anyone who commits suicide has done tremendous harm to the people they leave behind.” And that’s true. But that’s not always the same as being selfish. There are a lot of reasons why people take their own life. Yes, sometimes it is because they want to get back at someone who has hurt them. Sometimes suicide is done out of spite. But not usually. Most of the time, a person takes their life for one reason:
They want to end the slow torture they live with every day.
I’ve lived with a lot of pain for much of my life. I won’t go into it here, but I’ll say that rarely have I handled it the way I should have.
I hate the pain that I live with. I know others suffer more than I do. But I don’t know what their pain is like. I know only what my pain is like.
And it can be suffocating.
It can be paralyzing.
It can be blinding.
When a person decides to end their life, it’s often because they believe they can’t live with their pain any longer. Why do they reach that conclusion? Because their pain has become unbearable and/or they believe it has no redemptive value.
If you know someone who struggles with suicide, I hope you will stop thinking of suicide as a selfish act—as if a person is suicidal because they are more morally flawed than the next person—and instead think of suicide as a poor way to deal with pain. A suicidal person thinks suicide is the only way to stop the torture they live with. You can aid them by learning to help bear their pain and give them hope concerning pain’s redemptive value.
When it comes to helping bear someone’s pain, think of your suicidal friend as languishing in a deep pit. Because you love them and want to help, you keep offering them a hand to lift them out of the pit. When they refuse to take you up on your generous offer, you’re confused. What you don’t realize is that their pain has paralyzed or blinded them, and they can’t see that you’re offering help. What they really need from you is not a hand up out of the pit, but for you to crawl down into the pit with them. Don’t try to cheer them up or to see the sunny side of life. Instead, be willing to get your hands dirty and sit with them—literally sit with them—in the awkward and miserable pain they are experiencing.
Don’t talk. Just be. Sit. Listen. Be.
When the opportunity presents itself, help them see how their pain has redemptive value. Knowing that my pain has redemptive value never makes it “worth it,” but it makes bearing it a little easier. When I have an opportunity to help someone with their own pain because I bear my own, I say a prayer of thanks to God. In those moments, I understand just a fraction more of what his plan might be for my life.
And strangely, I feel motivated to move forward. I genuinely want to help others. But my pain blinds me too often. I’m grateful that the Lord uses people to open my eyes to what could be.
The next time you know of someone who is suicidal, don’t use the word “selfish.” It might very well prove to be counterproductive. If they are told they are being selfish for contemplating suicide, a person might conclude “well, I’m already thought to be a bad person for considering doing this. People just don’t understand.” They will feel even more isolated, misunderstood, and judged than they already do.
Instead, make a sincere offer to let the person vomit on you emotionally. “Talk to me. I want to listen. Tell me about your pain.” When it’s over, thank them for being transparent and vulnerable.
Only eternity will be able to tell the good you have done.