Shame: The Underestimated Driver of Suicide |
“I had actually lied to my closest people. More and more I realized that the moment would come where my construct of lies would become shaky. And I started to think that putting an end to my life would be easier than unwrapping everything and telling people that I had lied to them.”
This is what a young man who had survived a serious suicide attempt told me in the follow-up therapy.
In 2013, Annelie Törnblom and colleagues from the Karolinska Institute in Stockholm, Sweden published an amazing but rarely cited qualitative study on in-depth interviews with parents of 13 boys who had died by suicide [1]. Parents often blamed themselves for actions either taken or overlooked. On the other hand, parents typically described that their boy concealed problems and hid behind a mask.
For example, he could mislead professionals, saying that he would never consider suicide, or take a morally wise position with friends: ‘‘I’d never do that to anybody.’’ He could play the clown, would not reveal any problems, pretended to be happy, lied, manipulated and hoodwinked others. When the parents tried to confront him, he fooled them by flatly denying any problems. “I’m just going out for a while, and we can talk when I get back.” He never came home again. In trying to understand the suicide of their sons, the core issue that came out from these interviews was shame: “Shame for what the boys had done. Shame for what happened to them. Shame of physical appearance. Shame for who they were.”
The parents of Oliver (18) came to see me after the suicide of their son. Oliver was in his second year of an apprenticeship in a travel agency. The parents noticed that he looked somewhat preoccupied. When asked, he denied any problems (“No, why do you ask? Nothing’s wrong with me, everything’s in control, school and everything”). The deadline for the submission of his final diploma thesis approaches. Mother offered to see the draft—maybe she could make some useful comments. The deadline was Monday. On Saturday afternoon Oliver said he went to the travel office to print the manuscript. An hour later, he came back to fetch paper for the printer—which mother found rather odd, considering that he was working in an office where you would expect plenty of paper supply. Oliver did not come home. Two days later he was found dead in the forest.
The parents were devastated, helpless, trying to understand. They talked to Oliver’s friends and teachers. Oliver had not........