Content warning: This story contains references to self harm.
When people talk about surviving suicide, they usually describe waking up in a hospital room or holding onto someone’s hand with relief.
That wasn’t my experience.
On June 20, I woke up and decided I couldn’t keep living. I wasn’t angry or dramatic about it. Mostly, I was numb. I was a little scared, but only because I wasn’t feeling the kind of fear I thought you’re supposed to experience.
I went to my therapy appointment that morning and told my therapist I didn’t want to be alive anymore. They did what they were supposed to do and called resolve Crisis Services. Panic slammed into me, but it wasn’t about dying. It was about being stopped.
I left the office before resolve arrived and drove to a bridge just outside Pittsburgh. On my way there, my husband’s name lit up my phone again and again. I either ignored his calls or whispered, “I’m so sorry. My brain and body are telling me this is what I have to do.” When I got out of the car and started walking, I noticed a 988 suicide hotline sign bolted to the railing. I kept moving.
The only reason I didn’t go over that edge is something I don’t have language for yet. A flicker of something. A pause I didn’t expect. A sliver of instinct refusing to let go.
As I climbed the rail, a woman stopped and shouted at me to get down and talk. It was all a blur and I have no idea what she said. But it was enough to break the fog, and I stepped off the railing. I turned around and walked back to my car.
I didn’t feel lucky afterward. I didn’t feel grateful or inspired. Mostly, I felt numb — the sort of numb that makes sound seem dull and time move strangely. I was alive, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do next.
I didn’t need the system to save me. I needed it to see me.
In the days and weeks after my attempt, I reached out for help everywhere I could. I have a social work degree and have worked in the social service field for over a decade, so I knew the right things to do in this situation, but I wasn’t prepared for the many cracks in the system.
My early efforts to get help were not encouraging.
- I made multiple calls to intensive outpatient programs (IOP). Most never called me back.
- I called almost a dozen therapists. Many didn’t return my messages, others couldn’t see me for weeks or months, and some even said, “I think you need more urgent care.”
- During my intake just 48 hours post-attempt, I had to tell my story to three different people in the span of one hour. When I broke down, the social worker couldn’t maintain her composure and stood up and walked out mid-intake.
When I finally got into an IOP, I questioned a new diagnosis that didn’t match my history. Instead of openness, I was met with silence, then defensiveness and then told I “shouldn’t have asked that.”
Later, when I got my records, I learned the intake social worker documented that I “declined” peer support and service coordination. I would have accepted both. Neither was ever offered.
I asked about copays and was told, “People usually don’t have one for IOP.” Weeks later, I learned I’d been racking up $80 weekly bills.
I went to support group meetings, including some in which I was the only one who showed up.
I tried another group outside the health system and was told not to share active thoughts with anyone, which left me feeling muted inside the one place meant for honesty.
When I left IOP, no one followed up. No one asked how I was doing. No one offered next steps. It felt like I was expected to quietly re-enter normal life and make no noise.
I made several calls asking if any suicide attempt survivor support group existed in Allegheny County. Most lines rang indefinitely or led me to general mental health groups or one suicide support group an hour away.
It took many calls and many people before someone finally said the truth: There isn’t a single peer-led suicide attempt survivor support group in the county.
Trying medication wasn’t easier. I cycled through four antidepressants with no change. After a few months, I was referred for esketamine — a treatment that can take months to access.
When I finally got the consult at a major local psychiatric hospital, I was told they “typically see more acute patients than me” and weren’t sure treatment would help. I left the hospital thinking “what’s more acute than trying to kill myself a week ago?” They said someone would call me soon.
They called five weeks later.
Five months after my attempt, I still didn’t have consistent care.
It shouldn’t be harder to stay alive than it is to die.
National studies, Zero Suicide guidelines, and federal recommendations all support the development of trauma-informed support led by peers who have lived through suicide attempts.
Allegheny County knows our suicide rates are stubbornly higher than national averages and the rates have not dipped below the rates from 23 years ago. There are, on average, three or four people dying of suicide every week in the county. The data says we need new strategies. And yet, when someone survives a suicide attempt here, there is no designated peer group to help them rebuild connection, meaning or safety.
There’s a gap we pretend isn’t there.
But people feel it. I felt it every day.
If the support I needed didn’t exist, I’d create it.
This winter I’m launching Still Here, a peer-led support group for suicide attempt survivors and people who are actively struggling with suicidal thoughts. This group is about honesty, safety, connection and community — not fear, judgment or clinical distancing.
I’m not doing this alone. I’m partnering with Darnell Drewery, a facilitator I met at a suicide prevention conference who understands trauma-informed practices at their core. We aligned immediately on what the space should look like: gentle structure, real conversation, grounding techniques, connection opportunities and determined honesty about the darkest parts of our stories.
Still Here is designed to be the room I needed but couldn’t find.
It’s for the people who are holding on by their fingertips.
It’s for the people who survived but don’t know what comes next.
It’s for anyone who has ever thought, “I don’t want to die, I just don’t know how to live like this.”
Hope isn’t always a feeling. Sometimes it’s a place.
Sharing this publicly is terrifying. I worry how people will see me. I worry how my employer will see me. I worry how my community will see me.
People who struggle with suicide are often masking to everyone they know. I was a 40 under 40 recipient, I launched a fundraiser for Second Avenue Commons, I ran a half-marathon, and yet none of that mattered to me, because it was all part of my public mask.
But I’m not writing this for approval. I’m writing this because someone out there is waking up every day with the same quiet questions I had:
- Where do people like me go now?
- Where can I talk about my thoughts and feelings, openly and honestly?
I’m telling this story because someone needs to hear it. Because I needed to hear it months ago. Because I didn’t know survival could look like this — messy, lonely, uncertain, but still possible.
Survival isn’t loud. Mine wasn’t. It was a trembling decision on a bridge, a breath I didn’t expect to take. It was choosing to turn back without knowing why.
If you’re in the quiet place I was in, if you feel like you’re disappearing, I want you to know there is still a way forward, even if you can’t see it yet. You don’t have to be hopeful to stay. You just have to stay long enough for hope to find you.
I survived. You can, too.
Still here. Still trying.
And so are you.
Jeremy Carter is the founder of Still Here, Pittsburgh’s first peer suicide attempt and suicidal thoughts support group. To learn more or get reminders about meeting times, visit www.stillherepgh.org.
If you or a loved one are in crisis …
- Anyone in crisis can call 988 or otherwise reach out to the 988 Lifeline.
- Allegheny County has posted a list of mental health crisis resources and a directory of mental health and drug and alcohol services.
- resolve Crisis Services offers 24/7 response, including in-person mobile crisis teams. 1-888-796-8226 (1-888-7-YOU-CAN) or via walk-in at 333 North Braddock Ave.
- UPMC Western Psychiatric Hospital treats mental and behavioral health conditions. 412-624-1000
- Allegheny County Information Referral and Emergency Services can assist with transportation to a facility for an evaluation. 412-350-4456 or OBHInformationRequest@AlleghenyCounty.us
- Trans Lifeline offers emotional and financial support to trans people in crisis. Peer-support: 877-565-8860. Operating hours are listed here.
- Women’s Center and Shelter of Greater Pittsburgh operates a 24/7 hotline for domestic violence survivors. Its services include emergency shelter, safety planning, individual therapy, group support and substance use recovery counseling. 412-687-8005
- Disability Rights Pennsylvania provides Pennsylvanians with disabilities — including psychiatric disabilities — with legal advice and information, advocacy and referrals to resources. 800-692-7443
- Bridge to the Mountains is a street outreach group providing essential supplies to housing-insecure people, harm reduction and overdose prevention services and referrals for substance use treatment and other services. 412-699-0462
- Prevention Point Pittsburgh offers substance use treatment and harm reduction services at mobile sites throughout the city. Find locations and hours here. Call 412-247-3404 to confirm appointment availability.
For longer-term support …
- Pittsburgh Mercy provides a range of behavioral health programs.
- The National Alliance on Mental Illness [NAMI] Keystone Pennsylvania provides peer-led mental health support.
- The Squirrel Hill Health Center offers free or low-cost behavioral health care to those who are uninsured, including psychiatric evaluations, medication management and therapy. 412-697-7999
- Central Outreach Wellness Center on the North Side offers low-barrier substance use and mental health care, including counseling and support groups. They specialize in serving LGBTQ+ people, but provide health care to everyone.
- Steel Smiling bridges gaps between Black Pittsburghers and mental health supports.
- The Jewish Healthcare Foundation’s Teen Mental Health Collaborative provides emotional support, connection and engagement for young people.
- The Allegheny County Peer Support Warmline can help people with mental health or substance use concerns that haven’t reached a crisis level. Call 1-866-661-9276 between 9 a.m. and 1 a.m. daily.
This isn’t an exhaustive list and many other resources are available in our community.
This article first appeared on Pittsburgh’s Public Source.