My Uncivil Civil Commitment in 2002

I originally wrote the post below in July of 2014, but never uploaded it to this site.  Then in April of 2015 when I began to work full-time in the suicide awareness and prevention cause, I balked again at publishing this piece.

Since publishing this video online recently, I finally feel free to post this message publicly to begin to explain the circumstances leading up to and subsequent to my civil commitment.

Independence Day
July 4, 2014

To me, freedom is writing, and posting the following:

I almost killed myself on March 2nd 1998, via semi-intentionally caused acute carbon monoxide poisoning.  I was found unconscious, in a running rental car with a half-grapefruit-sized bump on the back of my head, by a man named Norman, who happened to be the first person to arrive for work at the warehouse in Secaucus, NJ  where I had parked the car I turned into a makeshift gas chamber the night before.  In the ambulance on the way to the hospital I had what is commonly referred to as a near death experience.  I survived, and woke up in the intensive care unit of the Jersey City Medical Center a couple days later.

Five years earlier I had graduated Phi Beta Kappa, Magna Cum Laude, with a double major, in only seven semesters from the University of Notre Dame, and only several months earlier, I had become the youngest titled staff at the international information technology consultancy’s Manhattan office where I worked with 350 other IT professionals.   I was 27 years old.  

The three months immediately preceding my ambivalent suicide attempt, I had slept between zero and three hours a night.  I am unable to forget the many hours laying in my bed in my studio apartment in the West Village where I lost my sanity as I thought myself into an abysmal, suicidal depression.  

About four years later, on August 1st, 2002, I was sitting in a chair at a table in a small room, with my hands cuffed behind my back, at CIA headquarters explaining why I had just registered the domain name iamosamabinladen.com.  After a two hour interrogation I was released, and I returned to my home in Philadelphia.  

Days later, after talking to my family about what had transpired in Langley, Virginia, a doctor who didn’t ask me a single question about how or why I ended up at the CIA, civilly committed me to a mental hospital.  Within a couple hours of arriving at the mental hospital, I was informed by the staff that my doctor there, the resident psychiatrist who had not met nor spoken with me, had ordered the staff to treat me with the antipsychotic medication Risperdal.   After respectfully and civilly refusing to take the medication prescribed to me before at least speaking with the doctor who had prescribed it, I was informed by the hospital staff that if I refused to take the Risperdal orally, that they had been ordered to treat me with the injectable antipsychotic medication, Haldol.  I calmly informed the staff that I would not take the Risperdal prior to at least speaking with my care provider, and also added that I would not resist them if they felt compelled to give me an injection of Haldol without my consent.  They were so compelled and I did not resist.  

After receiving the injection of Haldol, the woman who had just given me the shot, began to prepare a second injection for me.  I said, “What’s that?” to which she answered, “The side effects of Haldol can be so severe, I need to give you a dose of this (Cogentin) to counteract them.”  I sat there stunned with incredulity as she gave me the second injection.  Within minutes, I began to feel the effects of the powerful antipsychotic, and a fellow patient at the mental hospital helped me to my bed, in my room, before I passed out.

Over the next several months, I will provide the details of the story above and what has transpired since then, in excruciating detail in service of two goals:

  1.  causing a precipitous drop in the suicide rate,
  2.  catalyzing the transformation of behavioral healthcare in the US to be more patient-centric

Happy Independence Day.

Sincerely,

Francesco Bellafante

Are you “bipolar”? Isn’t everyone “bipolar”?

The post below was written and published on iameinstein.com about eight years ago during the first iteration of the site, prior to me becoming a free will skeptic.  A couple points to note to decrease the chances of someone being offended by what is written below:

  • I don’t think that a person who is exhibiting the symptoms of bipolar disorder is an “asshole”
  • Albert Einstein patently did NOT think that “everything was relative”

While the thinking expressed below doesn’t resonate with me like it did when these words first emerged in consciousness, people who have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder who refer to themselves as “bipolar” is an expression that is still a pet peeve of mine.  I think the act of self-labeling oneself with a noun that defines you as a mentally ill person is a stigmatizing one.

For example:

“I’m bipolar.”

VS

“I have bipolar disorder.”

VS

“I’m currently behaving in a way where it’s fair to categorize me as someone who presently has bipolar disorder.

I prefer the latter two options over the first one because, I think everyone is “bipolar.” Have you ever met anyone who doesn’t have ups and downs in life?  I haven’t.  The question isn’t are you bipolar, rather, it’s do you presently have bipolar disorder?  In other words, are you presently exhibiting symptoms that indicate that you have bipolar disorder?

Identifying as “bipolar” seems to indicate that you are and will forever be someone who is behaving in ways where the diagnosis: bipolar disorder, accurately describes your behavior.

The final statement option listed above obviously indicates that the speaker’s behavior, which currently falls within the diagnostic criteria for bipolar disorder, may change and not fit into the diagnostic criteria for the disorder in the future.

While I can’t stand by this post as a whole (i.e., I would not write this piece exactly as is today) parts of it still ring true for me.

The following question was posed to me by a friend to whom I gave a book about a so-called bipolar person.  After reading it my friend asked me:

What difference might it make if everyone simultaneously began referring to “bipolars” as assholes?

I think the word “bipolars” is just as arbitrary as “assholes” – don’t  you agree?

Everyone has two emotional poles, think about it.

Every human being I have ever met has ups and downs… two poles… bipolar.  As many aptly say, I think the problem is  not in being bipolar, the problem lies in a pattern of going to extremes, on one or both of these poles, to a point where there is upset or pain and suffering, or some other undesired result.

The problem is not in having two poles.  Rather, it is in repeatedly going to the extremes of the poles, to the point where you or those around you suffer.  Hence we have the term:  bipolar disorder.  This makes sense, no?

But then, along comes this slang usage, which doesn’t make literal sense at least.

“Hi my name is Joe, and I’m bipolar.”

I get what I think Joe means, but he’s not even using the defining word of the phrase:  disorder.  Let’s say Joe means he has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  Is he thinking and behaving in disorderly ways.  What’s going on in his life?  What is the pain and suffering that he has caused by thinking and acting in ways, that maybe, could be characterized as him acting like a ‘big, fat, man-child?  Assuming Joe is an adult of course.

I think many would make the case that it is highly likely that regardless of gender that if you are this bipolar, as they say that you very well maybe behaving like an asshole.  You know the saying, if it looks like one, smells like one….?

What would happen if people simply did not just say:

“I’m bipolar,”

…and instead, had the habit of carefully explaining, step by step, the pattern of thinking and behavior that has caused them to be tagged with the label:  bipolar disorder?

I’m thinking easily five, if not all ten out of any ten, bipolars could be described just as accurately and validly as assholes.  I think this is possible.  How possible?  Well, don’t get me started on how EVERYTHING IS RELATIVE… time…space… “they” 😉 were just the beginning man.  I was thinking about EVERYTHING really… including, and maybe especially language.

And this is why I have come back… to talk about relativity again, but in a different way.  I’m back to talk about all this language around a particular subset of human thought and behavior as defined by a relatively very small group of people known as the American Psychiatric Association.  Can you say DSM?

This is why I am back.  To remind the minds of science and society in general about the relative nature of language and the implications in the so-called science that claims to be out to help people have better lives.  I have a lot to say, and I will take my time in doing so.  But for now, back to this bipolar-asshole question—I suggest, gather your own data.  Think and form your own opinions, ideas, thoughts and hypotheses.

Maybe I’ll suggest that my friend read some more honest stories written by people who describe themselves, or are described by other people as bipolar.  Maybe this “asshole hypothesis” will hold up.  One could assert that when you are reading these bipolar books by bipolars, you are reading the work of an asshole, or at least, one who has been an asshole in the past.  

Wait a minute… isn’t that pretty much everyone?  Sure… but I guess bipolars are the real assholes—the chronically assholish then.   Does that work?

I think many ‘chronic assholes,’ if you will, know they are assholes, to themselves and others, and don’t care how you label them, in fact, that is probably part of being an asshole.  Knowing you are totally an asshole… but completely ignoring the label of asshole, placed on you by some brilliant, learned mind of science and medicine.

Whatever you call them, according to many people, these assholes, and I mean the patients 😉 very well may be text book case bipolars.  They are then ‘mentally ill,’ some would go as far as to say that they have a disease.

Who knows, maybe this makes them or even you, feel better.  Maybe they say to themselves, there’s a medical reason that we’re assholes.  It’s not our fault per se.  And some might suggest that all they have to do is buy and swallow certain special tablets daily, for the REST OF THEIR LIVES.  And they can drastically reduce the chances of continuing to be assholes in the future.  Now does that make sense?

I’m not as clear on this one.

I understand why and how society ends up creating pills to solve the ills associated with the human mind and body.  I get that.  What confounds me at times, is the reluctance of people to even consider that they’re less than stellar, ordinary decision making performance could be the entire cause of their so-called problem.  Not some hard to define and apparently impossible to pinpoint disease of the brain.

I’ll give you a different hypothesis, I suggest that:

Many of the so-called illnesses of the mind, may be a product of nothing other than being a human being, and an expression of how well someone is doing at learning how to deal with their particular flavor of the same human condition that we all share.

What difference might it make, if we change bipolar to asshole?  At first, I thought it was a ridiculous idea with little practical value in serious contemplating, but the more I think about it… the more I see the upside-down genius in it.  My answer is that I think it might make a big difference.

Changing the words people use, is how you change the world, people.

Asshole is certainly not the word I would choose here, but I think that might make quite a difference, but who the hell am I.

If I had actually been in my grave when I heard the news I might have rolled over when TIME Magazine named me the person of the century without changing the title of their publication.   (duh!)  Think about it… I really wonder how much of a difference, I, this supposed genius of geniuses really even made.

How many people even get that time and space (most likely) don’t exist like they probably think they do.  How few get that in the ways that I am credited with pointing out.  And at the end of the day does it really matter, if they do or not?

Did I, Albert Einstein even matter.  Don’t get me started on that one either.

You people would not believe, just how like you I am.  Genius?  Sure I am, just like you.  And when you’re willing to admit your genius to the world people might turn your name into a word too.  Better yet, they might make a movie about you.

You probably know this friend I’m speaking of… I think some refer to him as an idiot.  While others see the genius of innocence and naiveté.  His name is Gump, Forrest Gump actually.  You can check in on him over at I am Forrest Gump, dot com.

I’ll be here thinking.  In invite you keep thinking too.

I am Einstein, but please call me Al.

And I apologize if my new voice puts you off.

Peace.

Flashback Friday: A look back at the beginning of “the beginning of the end of suicide”

This video includes clips from a few different vignettes from seven years ago when my strategy for sharing the story I wanted to tell and the lessons learned from it was focused on telling the story via a dramatic feature length film.  While I still resolutely believe in the story’s inherent appeal for movie-going audiences in America and beyond, I’m not married to the idea of it first being shared via that medium necessarily.

“Andy DuFraine” is the person speaking in this video;  he came across YouTube videos I was posting online back in 2009 and initiated a dialogue with me.  We barely knew each other back then when he recorded this audio where he shares some flattering and optimistic feedback about his vision of the potential positive impact of the activism work I was and am now again engaged in, to fight suicide.

I hope he’s right.

 

From suicide attempt survivor to American Foundation for Suicide Prevention speakers bureau member

In 1998 I was a 27 year old, Magna Cum Laude graduate of the University of Notre Dame who had recently become the youngest Principal consultant in American Management Systems Manhattan office.  Shortly after receiving a 7% off-cycle salary increase due to exemplary job performance, I was found unconscious inside of a running rental car in a parking lot of a warehouse in Secaucus, New Jersey.  I had transformed the car into a makeshift carbon monoxide gas chamber the night before.  After losing consciousness in the rental car and prior to waking up in the hospital, I had what is commonly referred to as a near death experience, and if I had not survived, the cause of my death would have been listed as suicide via acute carbon monoxide poisoning.  As accurate as that description would have been,  I’m compelled to share about how my lack of experience with the thoughts and feelings I had leading up to my suicide attempt, and my fears about what other people would think about me, if I had revealed the struggle I was embroiled in, dissuaded me from getting the help that I so desperately needed.  As a suicide attempt survivor fortunate enough to have a second chance at life, I hope others suffering as I did will benefit from the lessons I’ve learned over the last eighteen years.

In late 1997 while on a challenging work assignment in Toronto I began to experience insomnia for the first time in my life.  My mental health deteriorated quickly over the next few months as my five closest friends all coincidentally moved away from New York City, and I began to ruminate over what I was doing with my life.  Up until when I began to have suicidal ideations, I would have described myself as very confident with respect to my intellectual abilities, but the personal crisis I became involved in, stemming from difficulties encountered on the project in Toronto, shattered my self confidence and stripped away my self esteem.  In their place was an overwhelming sense of self doubt followed eventually by self loathing.  Hope and excitement for the future were replaced by fear and apprehension.  Night after night of getting between zero to three hours of sleep at most, and the relentless barrage of dark, automatic thoughts bombarding my consciousness ate away at my sanity, and over the course of only a few months I was lost in a seemingly inescapable, abysmal black hole of simultaneously self-defeating and self-fulfilling thoughts.

I wasn’t familiar with the diagnostic criteria of major depressive disorder at the time, but I learned after the fact, that I was a textbook case.  I had persistent feelings of emptiness, hopelessness and worthlessness.  I lost interest in activities that I normally enjoyed, and my appetite all but vanished.  It was challenging to concentrate and to make decisions, even simple, inconsequential ones.  Not surprisingly given how little I was sleeping, I was perpetually tired and lacked energy.  Recurrent thoughts about dying, the first was imagining that my Friday afternoon flight home from Toronto to New York City would crash, eventually evolved into persistent thoughts about intentionally ending my own life.  The long, sleepless or nearly sleepless nights took the greatest toll on me.  I was unable to quiet my sleep deprived, addled mind from producing a non-stop stream of negative, hyper-critical thoughts, as overpowering feelings of shame, guilt and embarrassment consumed me.  I was ashamed that I needed help to deal with how I was feeling.  I felt guilty that I was having suicidal thoughts considering my life of relative privilege and my knowledge of the depth and breadth of suffering experienced by countless others in the world.  I was embarrassed that I had ever considered myself intelligent and capable of attaining any goal I set my sights on achieving.  I was ashamed that I was considering suicide out of a fear that I would become completely incapable of doing my job.  I felt guilty that I hadn’t achieved more in life considering my talents as well as the advantages and opportunities afforded me.  I was embarrassed to be in a position where I obviously needed help and was mortally afraid to admit that fact to anyone.  I viewed my deteriorating mental health as a character flaw, because I believed that other people would see it the same way, and I believed that asking for help to deal with what was going on in my head was a sign of a personal weakness. Thoughts and beliefs like these lie at the heart of the stigma surrounding mental illness, and explain why many people suffering like I was back then never seek help.

According to the National Institute of Mental Health, in 2013 an estimated 15.7 million, or 6.7% of all U.S. adults, had at least one major depressive episode in the preceding year, making it the leading cause of disability in this country.  Sadly it is estimated that only about half of Americans suffering from depression ever receive treatment for the disorder.  Over 90% of Americans lost to suicide each year suffer from depression or some other behavioral health condition.  In 2014 alone, 42,773 Americans, or about 117 a day, died by suicide according to statistics from the Centers for Disease Control.  The tragic reality behind these statistics is that a great majority of people suffering from depression could be helped by one or a number of different treatments that help people return to living full, productive lives.

Immediately after my suicide attempt, I began taking the antidepressant medication Paxil, and seeing a psychologist twice a week, and within about three months, I was well again.  I lived with my parents during that time period, and my mother had bought me a small stack of paperback books to read while I convalesced.  While most of the books were novels, she had also bought me a copy of David Burns best selling book Feeling Good:  The New Mood Therapy.  It was the last book I read out of the stack, and although I was still too depressed when I read it the first time to appreciate the significance of the ideas it contains, over a decade and a half later, it’s clear that what this book taught me about cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) comprises some of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned during my eighteen plus year journey as a consumer of mental healthcare services.  In the book, Beck summarizes what he refers to as, “the powerful principle at the heart of cognitive therapy,” by writing “your feelings result from the messages you give yourself.  In fact, your thoughts often have much more to do with how you feel than what is actually happening in your life.”  A few years later, my psychologist introduced me to a related idea called mindfulness –  the practice of being aware of the present moment and your thoughts and feelings in a non-judgmental way.  Both CBT and the practice of mindfulness helped me to be more reflective about my thoughts and feelings as I was experiencing them, helping me to consciously respond to them in a more discerning and intentional way instead of impulsively reacting to them.  I have never taken an antidepressant medication since the time immediately following my suicide attempt, nor have I ever had a recurrence of a depressive episode as severe as the one that I had in 1998.  By no means do I believe that I am “depression-proof”; no one knows what tribulations may befall them in the future, but it’s clear to me that years of reflective introspection and personal growth have equipped me with valuable insights, habits and tools that help to safeguard me against the self-defeating thought patterns that led up to my depression and suicide attempt over eighteen years ago.  I have developed other habits over the years that have also helped me to remain well in a sustainable way.  I transformed my diet to consist mostly of plant based foods full of fresh fruits and vegetables, and I became an avid distance runner.  I worked to cultivate a habit of unconditional self-acceptance as well as the practice of consciously acknowledging things in my life that I am grateful for on a daily basis.  Recognizing the dangers inherent in becoming isolated, I committed myself to remaining connected and communicative with my family and close friends.  Maybe most importantly, I have promised myself and those I love that I will never hesitate to ask for help from them or a professional caregiver if I need it.

afsp_logo_blue92-53-41-17-1Unlike when my silence about my suicidal crisis over eighteen years ago almost led to my demise, now I view the act of asking for help as a sign of courage and strength.  This belief led me to join the Speakers Bureau of the Philadelphia chapter of the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention where I deliver talks at area high schools and colleges about the warning signs of suicide with the aims of reducing the stigma surrounding mental illness and lowering the suicide rate.  I see making myself vulnerable to the potentially negative judgments of others by publicly sharing about my past as a powerful way to offer hope to people who are suffering, and to encourage them to seek help.

frank talk about Charleston, mass shootings, guns and the beginning of the end of suicide in America

Note:  I wrote this post before I heard President Obama’s eulogy for the Honorable Reverend Clementa Pinckney.

 

Like millions of other people around the world I was saddened and disgusted by the cold-blooded murders in Charleston last week.  In my view, looking at our nation’s entire history, you are blind if you do not readily recognize the significant strides in civil rights made by and for African Americans and other minorities in this country.  I think you are equally blind, if you are unable to see  how far we still have to go, to live in a society free of hate, hateful acts, and discrimination.

To the families and loved ones of the fallen:

Please accept my deepest sympathies  for your loss; you have been and continue to be in my thoughts.  I cannot fathom how painful it must be to lose a loved one to such senseless violence, and I was moved to tears when I first heard the amazing expressions of mercy-filled forgiveness from some of you on the news.

I heard Anthony Thompson speaking to his wife’s killer say, “I forgive you.”

I heard Bethane Middleton-Brown, Reverend Middleton’s sister, tell her brother’s murderer:  “We are the family that love built, we have no room for hate, so we have to forgive.”

And I heard Nadine Collier who lost her mother, say this:  “I just want everyone to know I forgive you.  You hurt me, you hurt a lot of people, but I forgive you.”

These incredible examples of forgiveness are profoundly beautiful and inspiring reminders of the redemptive power of love.  Thank you for having the courage, and the strength and the compassion and the grace to respond to hate with love as you have.  Your expressions of forgiveness to your loved ones’ murderer very well may have saved other lives by inspiring peace in the wake of this tragedy.  I commend you for leading with your love, and I hope that you may find peace, as you mourn, remember, and pay tribute to the memory of your loved ones.

To the people of Charleston:

The peaceful, love-filled response to these horrible murders shows me and the rest of the world that the words of Alana Simmons will never be proven wrong.  “Hate won’t win,” she told her grandfather’s killer.  The sense of collective unity and strength exemplified by your community’s peaceful response to this tragedy reminds us all again of the unstoppable power of love to continually rise up and overwhelm destructive forces of senseless hate and violence.  Thank you for your strength and fellowship during this trying time for your community.

To the person who repeatedly pulled the trigger on the gun, last week, that killed nine members of the Emanuel A.M.E. Church Bible study group:

The murder of a single innocent person is a crime against all of humanity.  Inspired by the amazing examples of mercy shown to you by the loved ones of your victims, I too forgive you.  It’s impossible for you to undo the damage that you’ve done or to make up for the heartbreak that you’ve caused, but it is within your power to show genuine remorse.  I know very little about you and the life you’ve led, but whatever the source is of your hate, I don’t believe that you were born with it.  As a result, I am sorry that whatever happened to you to cause you to think and act as you did last week ever happened, truly I am.  You still do have the power to redeem yourself by working to replace the hate in your heart with love.  I would not be surprised at all if the loved ones of your victims offer to help you do this. Make no mistake, those people are subject matter experts in love, and at the very least, you can learn from their example, and I sincerely hope that you do.

Guns and Suicide in the United States

Considering my personal thoughts and feelings about the importance of the suicide awareness and prevention movement, I’m compelled to take this opportunity to raise awareness about some important, and very probably surprising facts, for many, related to gun violence and how the overwhelming majority of its victims die in this country.

Taking a look at data from 2009 published by the CDC, the total number of deaths caused by guns that year was just over 31,000.  Of those, nearly 19,000, or about 60% were suicides, a number that represents just over half of all suicides that occurred in the US that year.  Around 37% of the deaths caused by guns in 2009, or about 11,500 of them, were homicides, 39 of which occurred during four separate mass shooting incidents, according to data in a Mother Jones report.

So, doing the math, for every one American that was murdered in a mass shooting event in 2009, about 480 Americans died by suicide via a gun.  If you compare mass shooting deaths with all suicides from that year, regardless of the method, this ratio jumps to almost 1000 suicides in America for every single person murdered during a mass shooting incident.

567 Americans have died in 70 mass shootings from 1982 up to and including the one in Charleston last week.  In 2013 about 41,000 Americans died by suicide, averaging 113 lives lost daily.  So, doing the math again, tragically, it only took five days for suicide to claim 567 American lives, the same number of lives lost in every single mass shooting to occur in this country over the last 33 years, combined.  Finally, if the suicide death toll were to remain constant over the next 33 years, we would lose more than 1.3 million American lives over that time period.

To President Obama:

After 20 six and seven year olds were massacred at Sandy Hook Elementary School you said:  “As a country, we have been through this too many times… And we’re going to have to come together and take meaningful action to prevent more tragedies like this, regardless of the politics.”  After the mass shooting in Charleston last week, you said:  “…at some point, it’s going to be important for America to come to grips with [gun violence] and for us to be able to shift how we think about the issue… collectively.”

I agree with you Mr. President, and I, and my fellow suicide awareness and prevention activists are committed to shifting that thinking, right now.

Every single innocent life lost due to murder is tragic and significant, undoubtedly, but, the facts about suicide and guns that I have presented here clearly demonstrate how insignificant mass shootings are, relatively speaking, as a cause of death in this country.

I respectfully urge you to consider using your bully pulpit to lead a conversation in this country about access restrictions on guns as a way to save thousands of American lives.  A 2014 study from the American Journal of Preventive Medicine found that: “Reducing the availability of highly lethal and commonly used suicide methods has been associated with declines in suicide rates of as much as 30%–50% in other countries.”  What’s most interesting about this finding is that restricting access to the means of suicide can dramatically impact the suicide rate without even addressing the mental health condition responsible for the suicidal ideations.   This is a vitally important insight, because suicidal ideations are often impulsive and very hard to predict.

A 50% reduction in the number of suicides caused by guns in this country would save over 10,000 lives in one year alone!  At the current rate, it would take over 600 years for mass shootings to claim that many lives in this country.  President Obama, I implore you to consider re-framing the gun control debate in this country. Focus it on the most likely way, by far, for a gun to be involved in the death of an American. Focus the gun control debate, on the least talked about major cause of death in this country. Focus the gun control debate where it belongs and has the greatest potential to save the most lives.

President Obama, please, focus the gun control debate, on suicide.

To all Americans:

In closing, I’ll add that I’m convinced that suicide will not remain on the list of the top ten leading causes of death in America for much longer.  Me, and thousands of others like me, already personally touched by suicide, are committed to lowering  the suicide rate, and we are an unstoppable force, powered by love.  It is only a matter of time before we build the political will necessary for this country to take the collective action required to dramatically reduce the number of lives claimed by suicide.  I believe this relatively small group of thoughtful, committed citizens is about to cause a beautiful tipping point in this movement, but we need more Americans to join us in this fight to finally bring about the beginning of the end of suicide in America.  Please consider volunteering your time and energy or donating money to a suicide awareness and prevention non-profit.  Here are links to the websites of three major, national ones :

American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

Active Minds

The Jed Foundation

Finally, I call on every American to either learn about or remind themselves about the warning signs of suicide and what to do about them if you see them within yourself or in someone you know.

Thank you for reading and please take the time to share this post.

Sincerely,
Francesco Bellafante
June 26, 2015

Update:  A question from a friend has prompted me to add a link for the scientific research into gun violence in this country, and a link to a recent piece from Slate.com.

For a collection of scholarly research articles on guns and suicide see the Harvard Injury Control Research Center.

For an article from Slate.com about gun violence in America from January of this year see ‘ and ‘ piece:  The Myth of the Good Guy With a Gun

National Children’s Mental Health Awareness Day at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia

Last Friday was National Children’s Mental Health Awareness Day, and I had the pleasure of spending it meeting and speaking with some wonderful people at the world renowned Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia.  A fellow American Foundation for Suicide Prevention Greater Philadelphia Chapter Speakers Bureau volunteer and I shared important information about the problem of suicide in children and young adults, as well as about the various training programs and resources that the AFSP provides to healthcare professionals, educators and the general public.  I was inspired by the people I met today and their sincere desire to make a difference in doing what they can, to help people struggling with suicidality.  I look forward to participating in additional events at CHOP in the near future!

afspatchop