I am not expert enough in public awareness and mass media approaches to prevention to comment or speculate about how effective this video might be in preventing suicide in the Army.  But I would like to comment on some intersections between the approach this video takes and some ideas about clinical practice.

To me, one of the most powerful aspects of this video is the way in which it leads the soldier-viewer to see him/herself as potentially at risk for suicide.   The video gives the message “If you don’t get help, your life could be in danger.”   Since the video is interactive, the viewer can actually make decisions (like keeping the distress or suicidal thoughts secret) that eventually lead to death.

From a clinical perspective, I have found that putting in front of a person–sometimes in a dramatic way–the danger he or she is in can actually help to kick in the person’s survival instinct.   It sounds strange to warn someone of danger when the danger is from oneself.   But a question like this one can be sobering:  “If there were nothing we could do to move life be more livable, how likely would you be to die?”  I worked with someone who could not name a single reason why life could have worth or meaning and who could identify no chance for things to get better, but who, when asked that question, started talking about his son and two other people he wouldn’t want to leave behind.   Recently, I was pleased to hear a similar question encouraged in the ASIST approach to suicide prevention and intervention.   An advanced variation of this question might even embed the prospect of hope within the danger question:  “If there were nothing we could to help life be more livable–I think there are things, but let’s say we didn’t pursue them–If things continue like this, how likely would you be to die?”

It is strange and surprising to some clinicans that most people who are suicidal (and I would venture to say some who actually kill themselves) don’t want to die.   Many people who have survived near lethal suicide attempts have reported that.    A participant in a workshop I gave several months ago illustrated this for me in a compelling way.  This participant had, at an earlier point in her life, attempted suicide.  She had since recovered and pursued education in the mental health field.   In sharing her subjective experience of the suicidal wish, she said, “I never wanted to kill myself.  I just wanted to kill the pain.”   What a gift.   Clinicians should be aware of this and look for ways to simultaneously connect with the suffering and activate the part of every person that desires life.

In a previous post about risk and patient Choice, I offered ideas about how to approach a particular instance of patient patient choice (sometime known as “noncompliance”), including some initial documentation suggestions. But that post didn’t address how to handle the emotions that accompany working with a patient who exercises his/her freedom by not answering our questions or by refusing our help.

Clinicians experience a range of emotions in these situations under these circumstances. Helplessness, anger, and fear come to mind first. From a family therapy perspective, this calls for what Murray Bowen (1978) called “differentiation”–the ability to remain engaged, present, and available while not becoming reactive, defensive, or distant. Easier said than done! Especially hard when clinicians often feel a duty to protect patients from harm.

The first step is to name what is going on. “This person is violating the ‘social contract’ and it is making me angry. I’m also afraid that this person could die while in treatment with me.” Next is some cognitive work: “This person did not give up the right to direct his life, keep his privacy, and make choices when he sought professional help.” Along with that, your best friend is good old fashion consultation. I plan to post more in the future about how to get consultation from colleagues about suicide risk, but for now, I think the main thing is for us, as clinicians, to explicitly frame the consultation in term of our emotions. “I am afraid and angry because a person I am working with, who has high risk of suicide, is not cooperating with my attempts to assess and intervene.” That frames the consultation discussion as being about “how am I going to work with this person given my emotions?,” rather than “how can I get this person to do what I want, given how difficult he is.”

As always, there is much more to say about this. This discussion of the therapeutic social contract and patient choice is not specific to patients with suicide risk. But it deserves special attention in the context of suicide risk because the stakes are high, the issue is loaded, and medical-legal preoccupations kick in and complicate everything. More to come…

References

Bowen, M. (1978). Family Therapy in Clinical Practice. New York: Aronson Publishers.

1. Uncomfortable with the pain and despair of another.
2. Squemish about suicide and it’s morbid implications.
3. Unsure of having the right skills to assess and treat.
4. Worried about medical-legal implications of losing a patient to suicide.
5. Concerned that suicidality will “hijack” the treatment.
6. Incredulous that someone consider destroying him/herself.
7. Fearful of losing a person the therapist cares about.
8. Worried about not being able to help.

As I said, the source of anxiety probably varies, but I think it’s worth asking which is the most prominent so that we can (a) address it in ourselves and (b) target clinician education at the right set of issues.

Here are some initial thoughts I have about this unbelievably challenging clinical dilemma. I hope to articulate more principles and recommendations in future posts and papers, and would love to hear other clinicians’ ideas.

1. Articulate and document the rationale for recommendation AND for the treatment decision you make. For example: “I recommended partial hospitalization because the daily therapeutic contact, extensive group work, and focus on stabilization fit Mr. X’s needs in this case. I offered this recommendation to Mr. X and explained the potential benefits and risks of following this recommendation. I also explained the substantial risk I see in not pursuing this level of care at this time.”

2. Respect the client’s freedom, and avoid a power struggle. Most power struggles are born of anxiety. We sometimes do have totake coercive courses of action to protect a patient’s safety, but many times we twist patients’ arm to manage our anxiety more than their safety. This is not a black-and-white/either-or issue. We do need to honor our boundaries, our ethical/legal obligations, and have a level of comfort in order to work with someone. At the same time, clients with intact cognition (i.e, not psychotic or otherwise impaired from making rational decisions) and who are not at truly imminent risk need to have some latitude about the treatment they agree to participate in. Before drawing a line in the sand, we should be clear (and be able to articulate) why drawing that line is necessary for the patient and for the treatment.

3. If you decide to respect a client’s choice that goes counter to your recommendation (a la #2), document the clinical reasons why. If Mr. X refuses my recommendation to go to a higher level of care, I might write: “Mr. X refused the offer of partial hospital; he wishes to continue weekly therapy but agrees to nothing more. I agreed to continue to see him outpatient because (a) our alliance is strong and is a protective factor, (b) Mr. X has benefited from outpatient treatment, even though his acuity level makes him more appropriate for partial, (c) he is not in imminent danger, and (d) Mr. X’s cognition is grossly intact; his thought process is logical and coherent, and he is judged to have capacity to make decisions about the treatment he wishes.” I’m sure this is not a perfect note (and I’d be happy to hear from others about what you might write), but it captures some of the key elements that I think should be documented.

1. Frames the discussion about suicidal ideation as one that is exploring the person’s subjective experience and suffering, avoiding the impression of ticking through the required elements of a clinical interview.

2. It begins a sequential approach where it then feels logical to ask about the extremes of desperation.

3. Signals to the person that you want to hear the full extent of the pain.

The exact words don’t matter, of course, but it is probably helpful for each clinician to develop a few standard ways he or she enters in to the conversation. This could be one of them.

The material focuses a lot on the therapeutic stance and alliance, including some excellent video of a master clinician interviewing a suicidal patient. It reminded me of something I’ve been emphasizing in the trainings I do: that a good therapist is a good therapist….the skill set is not radically different for the suicidal person. The problem is that many of us have been trained (by formal training or by our anxiety) to go into a some other mode when we encounter a person with suicidal ideation: we throw our best therapeutic skills out the window and become the suicide police. We often deprive people of our best skills because we feel we have to focus on nothing but their immediate safety. It is an unfortunate tendency because in the midst of deperation is when people most need compassion, empathy, and humanity–and a therapist who is as interested as they are in relieving the psychache.

So the challenge in developing and delivering training is to give equal weight to two important messages that are in some tension with one another:

“You must have a knowledge, training, and competencies specific to suicide. You must ask about it, document about it, and pay special attention to it.”

and

“Don’t get stuck on the suicidality or go into some different interpersonal mode. Compassionately tend to the person, the pain, and the problem, just as you always you.”

I think the training today did a good job of striking that balance. I hope my presentations and clinical work do too.