I Became A Psychologist After My Wife Committed Suicide

Video: I Became A Psychologist After My Wife Committed Suicide

Video: I Became A Psychologist After My Wife Committed Suicide
Video: My Ex Committed Suicide 2024, March
I Became A Psychologist After My Wife Committed Suicide
I Became A Psychologist After My Wife Committed Suicide
Anonim

When a loved one dies voluntarily, the pain is unbearable. And even the suicide note "I ask you not to blame anyone for my death" does not reassure. Existential-humanistic psychotherapist Stanislav Malanin tells his story of "rebirth from the ashes."

Then I was not yet a psychologist. I had no idea that I would ever start helping people like me or my wife Marina. Now, years later, I can explain what was happening to me. I was experiencing the proverbial "five stages of mourning" as classified by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. I went through everything - in my own order. Some stages were brighter, some were weaker: shock and denial, bargaining, anger and anger, depression, reconciliation. In my psychotherapeutic experience, people who come to me after a loss often get stuck at one of the stages. I managed to reach the final - acceptance - and drastically change my life. Rather, to find its meaning. How did I do it? To explain, it's worth starting with the background.

It so happened that due to many years of school bullying, I finished 11th grade as an external student: I entered into a "pact" with the school in order to leave it as soon as possible, and in the 9th grade I passed the Unified State Exam. I learned something myself, in some subjects I studied with a tutor. I went to a military school, but after six months I dropped it: I had no social experience as such (except for a traumatic one), and I quickly reached a nervous breakdown. I became interested in philosophy and psychology. Thanks to the books, I started trying to "restart" myself. Carl Rogers, Virginia Satir, Abraham Maslow, Irwin Yalom "lived" on my bookshelf. Especially strong impression on me was made by James Bujenthal - the founder of the existential-humanistic direction in psychology.

Through monstrous internal resistance, I began to learn to express my position: where I had previously been silent and accepted, I tried to argue and defend myself. I had a book on humorotherapy and decided to put some of the tools into practice. For example, I allowed myself to laugh at myself, at some too serious actions and words.

I managed to change something, and I fit perfectly into the next "social group" - at the institute. Simultaneously with studying to be a programmer, I started working in a workshop for the repair of mobile phones. Then I was offered to participate in an experimental project: a test program for teaching state and municipal administration. I became a student again. During this period of my life I met my future wife.

We were both fond of anime, went to parties, exchanged tapes first, then discs, "spoiled" each other the endings of various anime series. And pretty quickly "sang". When I got my degree in software engineering, we decided to get married. Both did not want pomp and unnecessary pomp, only a narrow circle: a couple of friends on each side and the closest relatives - my parents and Marina's grandmother, who raised and raised her. As I remember now: Marina was wearing a beautiful cream dress, and the wedding turned out to be very sincere.

Marina seemed to have settled in my life forever, while deciding not to be physically present in her

By this time, Marina, who was studying to be a journalist, had already started working, often traveled to Moscow to work, wrote articles for various publications. Her track record included a children's newspaper, which I admired: all the numbers were different colors, according to the spectrum of the rainbow. And everything was fine, calm and stable: I was getting a second degree and repairing mobile phones, she was finishing her studies and working part-time in the capital. We never even seriously fought, and after minor minor quarrels we quickly reconciled. And then there was a breakdown.

I was at home, and Marina left for another part-time job in Moscow. I got a call from her number, and then from Moscow, which turned out to be hospitalized … She was 22 years old. They were pills. Marina was found by a roommate at the hotel, she called an ambulance, but they did not have time to save her.

The most vivid memory: I had to get to her grandmother to tell about what happened. And for some reason I walked across the city. It walked for an hour and a half, on the way I went into every cafe and for some reason ate salad there. There were no thoughts, I was in prostration. They say that I met acquaintances on the way and even talked to someone, but I don’t remember what and with whom. And my grandmother burst through me. We just sat and cried silently.

Such events hit something very important and basic very hard. I asked myself: “How did I overlook? Why didn't you? How could you not have guessed? Tried to find an explanation for why this happened. Even now, I don't know the answer. My grandmother and I had three versions. First: there was a hormonal imbalance - Marina was taking pills. Second: something happened at work, she was somehow set up. But that was unlikely. Third: she was depressed, and we just did not notice.

Now, as a psychologist, I "unscrew" back. If it was depression - could I see it? No, if there was something, it was carefully hidden. She left a note that didn't explain anything. There were only two phrases: “I'm sorry. And now my luck is always with you. " We had such a game: seeing each other off, we wished good luck. Not sarcastically, but quite seriously: "I give you my luck to help you."

This phrase about luck haunted me for a long time. Now I take those words as a kind message, but then I was very angry. Marina seemed to have settled in my life forever, while deciding not to be physically present in it. It was as if she had hung a heavy load on me without asking if I needed it. She seemed to apologize, but at the same time said that now some part of her will always remind of what she did to herself.

At the stage of denial, I hoped that it was a cruel joke, that I was being played. That tomorrow I wake up - and everything will be as before. I bargained with fate: probably, they called me by mistake, and this is not my Marina at all. At the stage of anger, I yelled out loud and to myself: “Why did you do this to me ?! After all, we could figure it out, as we always dealt with all the difficulties!"

And then the depression began. Imagine a deep lake or sea. You try to swim to the shore, but at some point you realize: that's it, you're tired of fighting. I was especially annoyed by the advice that they like to give with the best intentions: "Everything will pass, everything will work out." Nothing will work out, nothing will pass - that's how I felt at that moment. And these parting words seemed to me a mockery, falsehood.

What would help me then? How should my loved ones behave? Do not overwhelm with questions, do not advise, do not find out. Some consider it their duty to bother: get up, act and in general - pull yourself together, rag! I understand that this is due to powerlessness and despair: it is very painful to see how a loved one "dies" from unbearable grief. But at that moment there was no strength to fight and I wanted to move away from such "care". You just need to give time: each person once wakes up a response when he begins to need help and support from loved ones. It is important that at this very moment they are next to each other. When a person begins to realize what happened to him, resigns himself to the situation, he wants to share with someone. What does support look like? Hug, say nothing, pour hot tea, be silent or cry together.

Any wound should heal and heal, and the person will be ready to rip off the plaster himself. But then I closed myself off from people for several months. They did not touch me, the background was the study. The dean was aware of the situation and helped: I was not expelled and allowed to hand over the tails. It looked good, I seemed to liven up. But in fact, I took the path of self-destruction.

I realized that I was at the very bottom, when suicidal thoughts began to occur to me myself.

But the desire to live outweighed. I said to myself: we live on average 80 years, if all this time I am engaged in self-flagellation and feeling sorry for myself, then by old age I will bite my elbows that I have missed my own life. I collected my last money and went to a psychologist.

The first specialist I came to turned out to be a charlatan - fortunately, I understood this immediately. With the help of a psychiatrist I knew, I went to the hospital. In a very real "psychiatric hospital". It was scary, because there are so many rumors and stereotypes about these establishments. To my surprise, they didn’t inject me, they didn’t give me any pills, they didn’t perform any procedures. I just found myself isolated from the outside world for a whole month. I got acquainted with doctors, orderlies. The patients existed separately, and I separately - with the medical staff.

There were many interesting people among the "guests". At first I was scared of them, because they did pretty strange things. Then I got used to it, began to understand them, found a common language with them, was interested in their deeds, thoughts, feelings. And at some point it dawned on me: I like helping people. I'm in my place here.

I left the hospital and decided that I no longer want to stay in my hometown, which caused me so much pain. I went to Moscow - no money, just nowhere. I believed that the big city would accept me, that there would definitely be “my place” in it. I lived for a week at a train station, then I got a job in the call center of an IT company, and quickly "grew" from an ordinary operator to a department head. In parallel, he entered the Faculty of Psychology. From the fourth year I began to practice a little.

Clients came to me with depression, suicidal attempts. At first I was afraid that they would "fall" into my trauma. But it turned out that personal therapy was not in vain - I did an excellent job with my cockroaches and was ready to help others. And when I realized that being just a consultant psychologist was no longer so interesting for me, I began to study to be an existential-humanistic psychotherapist. And I know and believe for sure: you can cope with all the difficulties in life. You just need not be afraid to go for help, to relatives and specialists. The main thing is not to be silent.

TEXT:

Olga Kochetkova-Korelova

Malanin Stanislav

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