#13ReasonsWhy Illuminates the Question
The Pathologization of Misery and Loneliness
I watched this show with my 14-year-old son. His twin brother watched it shortly afterwards.
Had I seen this show when I was a teenager myself, I would have felt understood. When I watched it recently, I felt validated as I listened to Hannah’s narrative.
Social isolation is literally unbearable.
Rape takes away your soul.
Why do you have to be mentally ill because you consider suicide?
Babies literally die if they are not touched.
Social interaction sustains us. Life becomes impossible without support from others. It is not worth living.
In this country, if you have suicide ideation and discuss it with your doctor, psychiatrist or social worker, confidentiality falls away and the ideation must be reported.
This makes these environments unsafe for full disclosure.
This middle-aged, uninspiring, poorly-groomed “expert” looks pretty tired of life himself. Did you know that suicide rates are highest among psychiatrists?
The overall physician suicide rate cited by most studies has been between 28 and 40 per 100,000, compared with the overall rate in the general population of 12.3 per 100,000. Overall, then, physicians are more than twice as likely as the general population to kill themselves. Each year, it would take the equivalent of 1 to 2 average-sized graduating classes of medical school to replace the number of physicians who kill themselves. This rate appears higher than among other professionals.
I would not recommend the WSJ as a go-to for life lessons.
As regards the school counsellor, there is bungling incompetence at all levels in the schools that I’ve gone to and that my children attend, not least at the highest level. It is a fair and accurate representation of a common reality that the counsellor is insensitive and unaware of the seriousness of Hannah’s experience. When I sought help at my school I did not receive it; only further disappointment and betrayal.
Once my brother-in-law mentioned a sexual harassment case that I had reported to the police and even twenty-five years later he had no idea of the seriousness of what had happened. I was sufficiently distanced from the events to explain in detail exactly what happened and he was clearly astonished. It appears that the gossipy narrative at that time was to portray me as a hysterical young woman overreacting to naughty jokes.
I will thank the gods forever that my case was handled with the utmost sensitivity by the police and also that the policeman entered my office just in time to witness my colleague holding an oil can between his legs, wiggling it and telling me what he would do with it.
I found this show to be a good way to connect with my children, to discuss suicide openly.
I would recommend it.