Talking and listening are the best ways to prevent suicide. Ask Ivar.

There was once a famous poet and storyteller from Iceland who won fame in the court of the king of Norway, the court of king Eystein.

Now the king thought much of young Ivar and did many favors for him and for his brother Thorfinn, who also lived in the court of the king.

But Thorfinn was jealous and unhappy. For he thought that his brother was getting all the glory and that his gifts were going unnoticed. So Thorfinn decided to return home to his native country of Iceland.

Before Thorfinn left Ivar asked him to carry a message to a young woman called Oddny. The message was that Oddny was to marry no one until Ivar returned in the spring.

Well Thorfinn left and had a good journey. He returned to Iceland and met Oddny, and he himself asked Oddny for her hand in marriage.

So when Ivar returned in the spring, he found that his own brother had married the woman he loved. Ivar was filled with sadness as he returned to the court of the king, brokenhearted and bitter with thoughts of ending his life.

Everyone in the court, and especially the king, noticed the change in young Ivar. The joy in his singing had disappeared. The enthusiasm in his stories had waned. Ivar was a sad person. One night after the meal was over, the king called Ivar to his seat and said in a low voice, “Ivar, Ivar, tell me, what troubles you so?”

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I am unable to discuss it,” came the reply.

The king knew something was deeply troubling Ivar, so he said, “All right, Ivar, I will guess, for I know something troubles you and I want to get to the bottom of it, Tell me, Ivar, is there someone in the court whose presence offends you in some way?”

Ivar looked at the king and shook his head, saying, “No, my lord.”

“Well then,” the king demanded, “do you think you are not given enough honor?”

Again Ivar shook his head no.

The king continued with his questions. “Tell me, Ivar, is there something in my land you desire?”

“No, my lord,” came the reply yet again.

The king pressed further asking, “Is there a house or and estate that you long for?” This time when Ivar shook his head the king saw that the issue was a woman. He looked Ivar in the eyes and asked, “Is there a woman, perhaps in your country, that you long for?”

Ivar fell silent, and the king knew he had asked the right question even before Ivar nodded yes.

“Well then, Ivar, there is no problem with that. I am the mightiest king in this part of the world, and no one would dare interfere with my wishes. The next ship that leaves for Iceland will have you on board, and you shall carry a message from me to the young girl’s parents stating that it is my wish for the two of you to be married. No one in Iceland or anywhere else in the world would dare interfere with the wishes of King Eystein!”

Ivar looked at the king and said, “My lord, even that will not help.”

“Do you mean she is already married?” the king asked.

“Yes, my lord,” Ivar replied simply.

“Well then, Ivar, we’ll have to think of something else. The next time I make my rounds of the countryside and visit the villages and towns and castles, I’ll take you with me. In our travels we will meet many beautiful women and perhaps your heart will find one to meet its deepest longings.”

Ivar’s eyes filled with tears as he said, “Oh no, my lord, not that! Every time I see a beautiful woman, she reminds me of Oddny and my grief. I cannot bear it.”

“All right, ” said the king, “let’s try something else. I know! I’ll give you land, a huge estate. It will keep you busy farming, taking care of the livestock, and tending to business matters. With your hands full of the work to be done, you’ll soon forget about the woman, and your old joy will return to you.”

“But, my lord, I have no ability to farm,” said Ivar.

“Hmm,” said the king, “then I’ll give you money! I’ll give you a huge some of money so you may travel wherever your heart wishes, to the farthest corners of Europe if you wish. In your travels you’ll have many adventures. When you’ve experienced some new things, you will forget about your troubles and be happy again.”

Ivar only shook his head.

The king fell silent. He was unable to come up with anything to help Ivar in all his sorrow. After a time, he said, “Ivar, there’s one last thing I can think of. It’s a weak suggestions compared to the others I’ve made, but perhaps it will be of some help to you.

“Ivar, each night after the meal is over and the tables have been cleared and the business matters of state have been taken care of, I invite you to come here to my throne and tell me the story of your feelings of love for this woman Oddny. I will be here to listen to you for as long as you need.”

Ivar thought for a moment, and then he agreed to the king’s proposal. That night and each night afterward, Ivar came to the throne of King Eystein, and there he told him his story.

He told the king his story for days and weeks, and for many months. Each night after Ivar finished telling part of his story, the king would not let him leave without a small token of his love and care for Ivar. So each night after his story had been told the king would give Ivar a handshake, a hug, and a small but meaningful gift.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Ivar found that he had told his story. And when he had told it, his old joy returned and  his thoughts of suicide left. So Ivar began to sing again and to tell stories, the ancient stories that the Scandinavians love so dearly. Ivar became once again not only a famous poet and storyteller, but also a happy man.

In the year that followed, Ivar met a young woman from Norway. The two fell in love and became one. Ivar and his wife spent the rest of their days in the court of King Eystein, happy and telling stories.

If we take the time to listen to each other we can prevent the despair and hopelessness that leads to suicide.

When it comes to suicide, silence can be deadly. If you know someone is thinking about suicide, tell some one.

If the person is in imminent danger, poised with a plan and a method to kill themselves, call the police at once. Even if they have told you not to talk about what they’ve told you, you must call the police because the person is a danger to his or herself.

If the person has been talking about suicide but does not yet have a plan or method to kill themselves you still need to tell someone you trust.

• Tell the person’s family member. Tell a clergy person or a counselor. If the person is a student tell their teacher or guidance counselor.
• Help the person call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline (1-800-784-2433).
• If the person is a child between the ages of 5 and 18, tell the parent and have them call Children’s Mobile Response and Stabilization Services (1-877-652-7624 This is a service for all counties in New Jersey).
• Take them to a hospital emergency room to get psychiatric screening. There are many people trained to help someone contemplating suicide. Ask and you will find them.

If you are thinking about committing suicide, find someone who will listen. Several years ago chronic depression, unresolved childhood trauma, and career problems combined to push me into a state of despair and hopelessness. I saw no solution for the emotional pain I was in. I thought alot about driving my car into a cement abutment or purchasing a gun with which to blow my brains out. I hurt so bad that all I wanted was for the pain to end.

When my thoughts of suicide became persistent I knew it ws time to find someone who would listen. Thankfully I had a wonderful counselor who helped me through that very dark time in my life. With the support of my therapist, my wife, and my pastor I was eventually able to walk out of the valley of despair I was in. Today I’m so glad I found someone who listened to me. The problems that overwhelmed me are either resolved and under control. I still have problems and pain, but my persepctive on them is much healthier. I am here today because I reached out for help and someone listened to me.

Silence can be deadly.Speak out to prevent suicide.

The mother heard her daughter “crunching bones.” Now she seeks to help her.

Accompanied by the people of her village the mother walked toward the sound of crunching bones coming from her daughter.

The villagers said, “Keep calling. You are her mother. She will know your voice.”

The mother called her daughter. “Kambilocho! Kambilocho! Tuuu!”

From a distance she heard the response.

“Kukutu…kukutu…kukutu…pm!

I am crunching bones.

“Kukutu…kukutu…kukutu…pm!

Crunching people’s bones.”

“That;s her, the villagers said. Call her. You are her mother.”

The girl’s mother called, “Kambilocho! Kambilocho! Tuuu!”

“Kukutu…kukutu…kukutu…pm!

I am crunching bones.

“Kukutu…kukutu…kukutu…pm!

Crunching people’s bones,” called back the girl.

Now they were very close, those people. That girl was busy crunching. They crept all around her. Strong women. They grabbed her. Her mother touched her hand. They carried that girl home.

Back home, they surrounded her. All good things they brought for her. After a while she began to take porridge. A little. Then more.

They kept her in the village. They surrounded her and comforted her until she was able to eat porridge like all other people. This mother saved her child with the help of her village.

Instead of warehousing the mentally ill in jails, prisons, and institutions, maybe we need to take responsibility for them.

Staying with the theme of healing mental illness, I’d like to share the story of “The Girl Who Crunched Bones,” a folktale from Zambia that can be found in Five Minute Tales, by Margaret Read MacDonald.

There was this girl. Every day she went into the bush. Every evening she returned. Her mother called her. “Here, come and eat. Here is good food for you.”

The girl replied, “No, I am not hungry.”

Each day it was this way. The mother worried. “How can my daughter refuse to eat? How can she live like this?”

The mother went to a village elder for aid. The elder said, “Here is a magic herb. Put this in your mouth. When you call,  your daughter must answer. This way you can discover where she is and what she is doing. During the day she does something. You must find out what she does.”

The next day the girl left her home. The mother waited. Then she put the herb in her mouth. She walked into the bush and began to call.

“Kambilocho! Kambilocho! Tuuu!”

The daughter answered from over there.

“Kukutu…kukutu…kukutu…I am crunching people’s bones.”

The mother ran home in terror. The people of the village said, “What happened? What happened?”

The mother told them, My daughter, she made sounds like crunching bones! Her voice came from that place, that place where graves are made.”

The people of the village said, “We will go with you.” They all walked to that place.

What will they find? Find out next time!

According to the National Institute of Mental Health, an estimated 26.2 percent of Americans ages 18 and older — about one in four adults — suffer from a diagnosable mental disorder in a given year. I wonder how many of thse Americans could be restored to mental health if they had one person to listen and understand?

Maybe it’s time to turn of the TV, the computer, the cell phone (gasp!) and give someone we know who is “troubled” our undivided attention, our empathy, our compassion. Yes it will be uncomfortable. Of course you will feel inadequate and helpless. But it’s not about you. It’s about being there for people wrestling with mental illness.

We have the power to listen people back into existence. Lets use it!

Cursed to live as a bird and blown about Ireland, Sweeney comes to rest in a thorn-infested hawthorn bush.

Nearby was the hut of the hermit Mullin. He was a gentle man, and even the foxes came to him for food.

St. Mullin heard the harsh cry of the ugly bird, but in his ears no sound was ever harsh or ugly. The more he listened, the more he understood. All day long he listened to Sweeney, feeling all of the birdman’s pain and understanding the sorrow of the king.

St. Mullin sat patiently all day, whistling sweet tunes and offering crumbs of bread in his open hand. Slowly, the bird fluttered down from one branch to the next until he was at the end of the day, within Mullin’s reach.

Mullin then gently folded his hands over the wounded bird. He fed him from a bowl of milk, and gave him the crumbs of bread to eat.

In a few days, Sweeney returned to his human form. Mullin took him to a small spring and bathed him, dunking his head in the water three times.

Mullin asked God for the healing of Sweeney’s mental illness, and God listened. Sweeney’s first words were to bless the hawthorn that humbled him and the hermit who healed him.

Then the king, healed of his mental illness, set out on his journey home.

Next time: Thoughts on the healing of King Sweeney.

Cursed by the prophet Ronan to live like a bird, King Sweeney embarks on a restless and painful journey to find healing.

Sweeney found a tall mountain ash that grew high into the sky. He greedily plucked its red fruit. He thought:

“The mountain ash is the tree of poets and singers. Surely my voice is sweeter than theirs, and I am worthy of this tree.”

And so the spotted bird cawed and cawed with its shrill cry.

But a hail storm pelted both bird and tree with such large hailstones that the mountain ash was stripped of its leaves and its fruit. Sweeney lost any of his feathers. He barely managed to fly away, seeking refuge.

The wind grew gentle and carried him to the south of Ireland. There he settled atop a small hawthorn bush. He now sang of longing for his family and his home. And, as he hopped from branch to branch, the thorns tore into his flesh.

Sweeney thought: “How fitting it is for me to perch in this hawthorn bush. I have nested myself among the thorns of suffering all my life. I have caused pain to everyone who knew me. Yes, Sweeney deserves no more than the lowly hawthorn bush for his home.”

Sweeny’s suffering is about to end. Come back to find out how!

Cursed by the prophet Ronan, King Sweeney has become a bird and takes to the air.

Sweeney, in the shape of an ugly gray and spotted bird, was blown by the winds from one corner of Ireland to the next. Every other bird shunned him.

Once he found a home atop a great oak tree and said to himself:

“The Druids honor the oak for it is a holy tree, and I am as great as any magician.”

But a powerful wind came from the west, ripped away the topmost limbs and sent Sweeney blowing across the landscape.

The birdman Sweeney then found a home atop a solid and great copper beech tree. Its dark red leaves reminded him of the rich red velvet cape he wore as king.

Sweeney thought, “This ancient beech is worthy of mighty kings, and I am the mightiest of royalty.”

But then a swarm of beetles bored into the tree, and its rotted trunk came tumbling down. Sweeney fled as the tree crashed to the ground.

Where will Sweeney go next? We continue his painful journey next time!

Did you know that you are a “healer?” Your ears have astounding power to heal! Listening with empathy is perhaps the single most powerful balm for people suffering emotional pain.

Consider the story of  Sweeney- King of the D/alnAraide wounded at the battle of Mag Rath (AD 637), cursed by the prophet Ronan, and destined to live wild in the forest.

There was once a king who name was Sweeney. He was healed of mental illness by a hermit who lived near a Hawthorn tree. The hermit’s name was Mullin. This is how it happened:

King Sweeney was called a “madman” in all his dealings with people. He ignored his wife and family. He harangued his pastor. He disputed unreasonably with everyone. And he gleefully led his soldiers in constant warfare.

Everyone in their hearts muttered curses on the troubled king; no one wanted to truly listen to him. His household and his kingdom ached with pain and suffering.

Following one bloody battle, the prophet Ronan shouted a curse on Sweeney:

“May you spread wings and become a bird wandering from tree to tree without a home. You have brought no peace to your people or your family’s home, and now you will have no peace until the day of your forgiveness and healing.

And with that king Sweeney raised his hands to strike Ronan, but his arms turned into wings. He flapped they, and lifted high in the air. His human words of anger and cursing turned into a shrieking and cawing worse than a crow’s. He flew upwards towards the clouds.

Return next time to follow the tortuous journey of king Sweeney.

Living with mental illness can suck the hope right out of you. When my depression and dissociative identity disorder were at their worst I had no hope; no hope for my marriage, no hope for my career, no hope of healing. At times, in my despair, blowing my head off or running my car into a concrete wall seemed like my only hope of relief from pain. It was at these times that my pastor was a voice of encouragement to me and taught me that compassionate treatment of mental illness requires a mouth that speaks encouragement.

My pastor believed in me when I no longer believed in myself. He encouraged me to see the light at the end of the tunnel that my mental illness had become for me. My pastor drew me back again and again to the words of hope contained in my religious tradition. He encouraged me to begin speaking and writing about my experience with mental illness, and when I did I found a new purpose and with that purpose hope. My pastor spoke words of encouragement to my wife as I wrestled with mental illness. Those words kept her going through some very dark days.

A mouth that speaks encouragement can counter the despair of stigmatization. A mouth that speaks encouragement can lighten the darkness of depression. A mouth that speaks encouragement can unshackle the chains of guilt and shame that often bind us in a hopeless dungeon of despair.

You don’t have to be a member of the clergy to have a mouth that speaks encouragement. Who needs you to be a mouth that speaks encouragement to them as they struggle with mental illness? If you have a mental illness do you take time to speak encouragement to yourself? Compassionate treatment of mental illness requires a mouth that speaks encouragement.

57.7 million Americans with a mental illness need people with a heart that forgives, an ear that listens, and a mouth that speaks encouragement. Will you help just one?

In my struggle with mental illness my therapist taught me that compassionate treatment of mental illness requires an ear that listens.

It’s a sad fact that many of us trying to cope with mental illness have no one to listen to us. Some of us have been stigmatized into silence. We dare not speak our pain for fear of the negative attention it may bring us. Some of us have been isolated into silence. Friends, family, and community have withdrawn from us leaving us to suffer and cope on our own with no one to confide in. Some of us have been counseled into silence. Repeated mismatching of therapists with our needs has left us feeling misunderstood and ambivalent toward the therapeutic process.

I consider myself fortunate, no, blessed, to have had a therapist who listened deeply to me. My therapist listened me back into existence. She listened to me cry my abandonment and curse my abuse. My counselor listened to my failures without judgment and to my fears without disdain. And she listened with clinical expertise to the symptoms of my depression and dissociative identity disorder and offered me ways to heal. When my therapist listened to my anger, hurt, shame, failure, darkness, and symptoms she communicated compassion to me. Her compassion told me I was worth something even when my illness caused me to feel worthless.

Listening requires maintaining an active presence, empathy, and openness to hear the person telling their story–something difficult to do when the story being told is filled with the pain of depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, PTSD, or dissociative identity disorder. Listening is difficult where forgiveness is needed, yet listening is often the key that unlocks the compassion hidden in our hearts that enables us to forgive. Theologian Paul Tillich wrote, “The first duty of love is to listen.”

You don’t have to be a therapist to have an ear that listens. Do you know someone with a mental illness who needs to be listened to? Do you listen to what your own pain is telling you? Compassionate treatment of mental illness requires an ear that listens.

When I was suffering with depression and dissociative identity disorder my wife taught me that compassionate treatment of mental illness requires a heart that forgives.

I know that without the forgiveness of my wife, Carol, I could not have healed. At the very least, my healing would have taken years longer. Carol’s decision to release me from the toxic debt of my past offenses toward her had the healing effect of freeing my energy to focus on rebuilding our relationship (instead of having to defend myself against blame and recrimination). It also allowed me to focus on healing the hurts that fragmented my identity into fifteen separate personalities. It was Carol’s forgiveness that gave me the strength to gradually forgive my family for their abuse of me as a child. And it was her forgiveness, as well, that offered me the means to forgive myself for my failures.

In fact, my wife’s ability to forgive became a model for me as I struggled with releasing both my family and myself from all blame. If Carol could let go of the pain I’d caused her, I reasoned, then I could let go of the hurt my family had inflicted upon me. By the same token, perhaps, I could could release myself from guilt I felt over the pain I’d caused others when my mental illness was at its worst. My wife understood that that hurt I’d caused her was a by product of my own hurt.

For me, Carol’s forgiveness was a living example of the forgiveness of God. And the combined forgiveness of my wife and God became the foundation on which I began the journey to healing for my mental illness and to mend the trust and love that had vanished from my marriage.

Is there someone struggling with mental illness who has hurt you that you need to forgive? Do you need to forgive yourself for the hurt you have caused others as you’ve wrestled with mental illness?

Compassionate treatment of mental illness requires a heart that forgives, and that forgiveness sets people with mental illness free to focus on healing their mind, body, and soul.