After I left the hospital I was placed into a halfway house. A halfway house is basically the transitional point between being homeless and finding a home. When I was hospitalized I lost my job and home. While I was at the halfway house I met a man who didn’t speak much. He only came down from his room to eat and drink and would carry on back to his boarding.
One day he left his room and I was going through scripture. He sat down across from me and I simply asked, “Is everything alright?” He went into conversation and jumped from one issue to the next without clarity. He told me it was because he had ADHD and Bi-polar disorder. He also told me that throughout his lifetime he was always bullied and therefore fears other men and that growing up in his home he was also bullied by his parents. He kept making mention of his mother who would neglect him and his siblings to go play bingo. That they would starve and have to find complicated ways to get food.
The conversation led further into his problems as I listened. He wanted to commit suicide. He hated his life and thought that everything that had happened to him was his fault and no one else’s. I reassured him of a thing called accountability but it did less to his sporadic thought process. He then asked me, “What do you think I should do?” motioning to the fact that I spent my time in scripture. I suppose he was able to perceive that I enjoyed God during his quick in and outs from the kitchen.
I asked him if there was anyone in this world that he cared for and he replied his siblings. I then began, “If you do this knowing your siblings are going through what you are going through what kind of example will that leave them besides the pain and added suffering?” He stopped talking and began to think about it but no sooner was he in agreement and thinking about ways to justify suicide. So I continued, “If you’re their only hope and they lose that hope. No matter how you try to dress dung it’s still dung. Don’t give in to that crap.” He stopped and asked why. “Because if you do, you not only hurt the ones that look up to you, but you take away their hope. You have a story that can not only help reach those closest to you but others who share the same pain.” He thought on this and changed his thought patterns. He tried to think, “well maybe they don’t care about me” but I quickly reminded him of their relevance in his life. He wanted change from that discussion and I wanted to help him achieve that change. So from that night on and up until I found a place to go to, we spoke about life. We spoke about putting our trials in writing and hoping to save others. About the selfishness involved in suicide and of course about the pain it would cause.
He came down from his room a lot more. He was happier, spoke about happier things.. I think all he needed was a new friend that cared.