Last Sunday night I had a rare dinner out with friends. Normally when I’m seated at a large table the deafness in my left ear becomes a real liability, and I drift off and become taciturn throughout to the point where people who don’t know me clock me as aloof, or shy, or just plain rude. It’s a frustrating affair for me: It’s almost as if I’m stuck inside a glass booth. 

But at one point, the conversation fluttered over to my side of the table about the Brad Pitt Esquire profile. I proceeded to air my frustrations with it — the same ones I wrote about here last week — but fixated more on the “I understand suicide” quotes: 

“I was never suicidal in any way. It just was not my makeup. In fact, if I have any afflictions, it’s probably being a congenital optimist. Which has helped many times, and it’s also gotten me—I’ve walked foolishly head-on into a Mack truck because of my optimism. Or, as my forever-funny friend David Fincher will say, Yeah, you see the glass as half full, but it’s half full of urine. Anyway, I’ve never been suicidal except for one little period. And in that one little period, I just thought—I just couldn’t—just didn’t see a way out. The pain was so oppressive that—I wasn’t going to act on this, but I could feel—I could feel the cold steel of the bullet in my head, and it felt like relief. And I thought, Oh, okay, now I understand—I understand suicide, in the sense that it’s just relief. It’s just looking for relief from the pain. But I also think we have incredible survival instincts.”

That portion resulted in the usual “If you or someone you know . . .” footer, just above the photography and wardrobe credits; the number to call for help. You’ve obviously seen this before:

If you or someone you know needs help, call or text the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 9-8-8.

Adding this — or some variation of it — became standard practice for most publications when there is even a hint of self-harm or depression in the subject matter of stories. But why? Why is it at the bottom? Do the magazine editors call the number to make sure it provides the help that some of their readers are searching for? 

I always get annoyed by these warnings, which I believe are geared towards what I call the “stock market crash” types of suicides — you know, bad things happen in your life, and then you make the conscious decision to end your life due to some set of hard-luck external circumstances. (This seems to be the version Brad diagnosed himself with, the suicide he had contemplatively not-contemplated at one point due to his “family stuff.”) 

But I feel like our understanding of long-term depression and suicidal ideation is a little more evolved now, and that should be reflected in how this type of assistance is offered, or else it smells more like cover-your-ass without any real thought behind it. Because, to be honest, I don’t have urges because someone is talking about suicide — it’s always a specter in my life. To me it feels more like the flu, and that flu doesn’t make me want to jump in front of a train — it’s pushing me in front of that train. Everyone’s experience is different, though.

I asked our old pal Clancy Martin — who’s literally written a very successful book about this — for his thoughts. 

“The first thing we should say is that it’s great that 9-8-8 exists. It’s better than 9-1-1. We take the call lines for granted, but they do help people; they save lives, and the people who work there care and help. And it’s not an easy job, and you can’t save everyone. 

The next thing we should say is that the best evidence is that informed discussions of suicide, suicidal ideation, and depression in the media actually has a salutary effect. It’s called the Papageno Effect and it works and we want to encourage it. The WHO lists stigma as the number one cause of the worldwide epidemic of suicide. People must bravely speak out. Editors must have the courage to publish these pieces. If mentioning 988 helps them to do so, good.”

But — and this was my question initially — is the 9-8-8 helpline the best course of action here? 

“If you’re in crisis or getting close, you don’t really have to call 9-8-8. Many people just can’t. You have to reach out to someone, anyone, if you possibly can.  One time I texted my roofer (whose number I’d added to my phone a few hours before) to say I was having a shitty day and asked how his day was going and that guy saved my life without ever knowing he did so. If you know yourself well enough to know you’re at risk, you should have a peer group: I have several people I check in with frequently, including a veteran who first reached out to me with his shotgun in his mouth. Peer groups work. This is statistically proven to be one of the most effective things and it is one of the rare beauties of texting and contemporary phones. But a peer group starts with a single honest text.”

I’ve had this idea for a while to create some longer version of an explainer that could be a useful link for people who know what the options are, or at least what to expect when they do call 9-8-8. I figure the best place to start would be with our own readership. 

So for this month’s “What It’s Like . . .” I’m asking you: Tell me what it’s like to call the suicide hotline. Your good experiences, bad, what went right and what sort of help did it lead to after. If you haven’t used the hotline, who did you call? What did you do? 

EMAIL YOUR RESPONSES TO [email protected]

SUBJECT: LIFELINES

250 – 300 words. All published responses will be kept anonymous. Anyone who contributes to this particular issue will get a one-year subscription to The Small Bow. 

Thanks — let’s try this.