This guide is a short explanation of the six stages of suicide with practical activities to help you prepare and assist your mind in the event it becomes irrational and unsafe.
Roy Baumeister, a social psychologist described these stages that people experience prior to carrying out suicidal acts.
Included is a mind-monitoring tool to assist you in identifying if your mind is displaying signs of reacting within the various six stages. This tool provides actions you can do to support your mind. A link to a printable PDF of the tool is included.
At the end of this guide, you can find a list of help crisis hotlines for various countries.
My original article is independently described as a:
‘Very good report, written in a humanistic way. The observed stages of suicide are of serious scientific interest, i.e. can help in preventive terms’.
The more you understand how your thoughts and emotions respond in irrational ways the more you can transform your actions beyond the influence of an unhelpful mind to that of a supportive mind and live freely and fully.
If you are a therapist, this is a useful resource for your clients. It also is filled with illuminating content for those people curious about the irrationality of our minds and how to prevent that from interfering with our quality of life.
“Stages of Suicide is an excellent insight into the though patterns of those dealing with suicide. Each stage very well describes the kind of thoughts, behaviours and emotions one feels as their condition continues, which I found extremely accurate and relatable. As for someone who has experienced these stages second hand, this is an incredible tool that can help non-suicidal people understand what it is like to be suicidal which I believe is one of the most important things for dealing with suicide on the larger scale.
After each stage there is a ‘prepare your mind’ section which works as a helping hand/’what to do about this’ counterpart of the stage. I found this to be really useful in not only making the content a lot less daunting and overwhelming to take in, but the reader is reminded that regardless of what stage you find yourself or someone close to you in there is always a solution to help you get out of it, which is exactly how this book approaches the terror of suicidal ideation.
Moreover, the mind monitoring tool at the end seems incredibly useful to help the user understand their own thoughts and emotions as they go through stages as well as help to generate some rational thinking patterns.
Overall this is an extremely insightful and practical helping hand for those dealing with suicide. Definitely recommend this to anyone who are either going through it or know someone who is, this book can help!“
“It’s not often I find myself holding my breath as I read a book, however in the opening story of Wild: Life death encounters with wild animals, I was doing exactly that.
The shark encounter at Murramarang Beach raised those old fears which were embedded into everyone who watched the 1975 classic, Jaws. I watched that film as a child and was terrified for some time of the overcast days at the beach, when you couldn’t see what was under the surface. Even though I know Dr Myfawney Webb, and am familiar with many of her stories of an adventurous life, I was still riveted to the pages of my kindle as I followed her narrative of the shark encounter.
Myfawney has a knack for bringing you into her experiences, through the truth of the tales within this book and the authenticity of her voice.
It’s a real talent to be able to convey emotions such as desperation, fear, sadness and terror while staying true and real to her story.
Dr Webb has achieved this, and it was a real joy to see her stories brought to life with such passion.
I can highly recommend this book to any lovers of adventure, wildlife, Australian experiences and those who like to read a book perched on the edge of their seat.”
Helen Menzies
5.0 out of 5 stars Journeys with Myf
Reviewed in Australia 🇦🇺 on 17 October 2021
“It seems to happen in my life that I set out for an adventure and it’s dramatically rearranged by the gods into one of those deep priceless experiences.”
So says Dr Myf Webb in Life Death Encounters, and it’s no exaggeration. The book is a stirring tale of derring-do, told in an authentic down-to-earth no-fuss Australian voice.
“I … reflected on how I had somehow survived three direct active threats on my life by three very different types of animal, a Great White Shark, an Eastern Brown Snake and now a wild buffalo bull.”
To that list of adventures the spellbound reader can add spiders, wild horses, wild donkeys, beached whales, the hunt for secretive possums as part of her doctorate work, and being thrown from her horse when it was attacked by a bull-Arab hunting dog intent on murder.
Phew.
Most of these stories were written by Mfy Webb during her year-long treatment for cancer. In a lifetime of challenges this was yet another to overcome. The details of that adventure are yet to be published, but readers of Life Death Encounters will know to anticipate another inspiring journey of curiosity and courage.”
menace aforethought
5.0 out of 5 stars Wild by Nature
Reviewed in Australia 🇦🇺 on 3 October 2021
“It’s wonderful to see these works collected into a book. These are stories not just of the wild, but of the inner being, how we tread our path through the world, how we learn about ourselves and how to become a fully engaged person through challenges that we sometimes seek and which are sometimes thrown at us by life.
The stories not only surprise with the breadth of Myf’s experience from her work as a mammal specialist, travelling and living in remote Australia, but also in her love of animals and the wilderness in general. She takes on an immersing ride surfing, fascinated by a shark attack until the reality of the risk finally hits home. ‘This is the first time in my life I have completely and absolutely maxed out on exerting my body physically.’ We are there with her, feeling that intense moment, the stress of trying to get back to shore when there are no waves to help and splashing could be the worst possible idea! Fortunately, this is followed by ‘White and pure EUPHORIA’, and she is safe on the shore. But danger was never far behind her in the bush while she studied mammals, or even when she was young, and being confronted with angry brown snakes as well as death adders, yet that didn’t seem to faze her. Although she has learnt to respect the angry brown snake a little more over time. I remember going out with her and her reptile specialist husband, Johnno, on one of his field trips to collect death adders near Darwin. My partner John and I were in the back of the ute as he drove along a road between rice fields where he would jump out from time to time and bag one, only to toss it in the back with us! One thing I learned from our early time living in the upstairs flat from them in Glebe, where they were breeding Funnel web spiders to feed his study animals – death adders – life was never dull around Myf! A photo of her in the book, smiling while a python winds itself around her neck is a classic!
Whale rescues and her surprise at the bond she formed with one, her hundreds of efforts trying to trap wild Rock-ringtail possums in Kakadu, and I know she had to wear beekeepers kit at least at times to protect her from swarms of killer mosquitos, lost in the Kimberly among ‘dodgy mineshafts’ with a ‘team of blokes’, ‘waking up in the morning, la de la de la, walking down the sandy creek bed,’ and being confronted by a wild buffalo, one of the most dangerous animals you can encounter in the bush, the scientist in her even taking in that he pawed the ground with his left foot, so perhaps one part of the 7% of ‘left-handed’ creatures! How she escaped this situation is classic. She came off less well when her horse she was riding was attacked by a dog, ending in a 15-kilometre trek with a broken arm and a one-handed drive to hospital!
“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
This quote from Alice in Wonderland seems particularly apt when I think of how Myf has crashed her way through life to contribute enormously to our understanding of the natural world, and perhaps this is how people have to be to do this work. So, it is not surprising that she has fought cancer with the same chutzpah, and now has given the world a wonderful collection of stories from her adventures to inspire new generations to get out there and go for it!”
Magnolia etching by the Australian Artist Lionel Lindsay (brother to Norman Lindsay)
Asleep in a foreign house, I’ll half wake thinking I’m in my childhood room with the adjoining terracotta tiled veranda just outside. After a moment I realise I am not there at all. Nor am I at my current home with the leaning eucalypts that seem to peer inside the bedroom.
This fuzzy, disconnecting feeling happened a lot recently during a week away, maybe because the flowering gardens of the holiday rental reminded me of my original family home, which was full of assorted pink and white azaleas and the green brown leaves of the magnolia tree. My subconscious mind began to go back in time. I’d wander along the silent neighbourhood streets full of opulent park-like gardens full of spring colour. I have not ridden my pushbike or run with my dog along these streets for 32 years. My memories were forged during thirteen years of living in a heritage house set on a leafy suburban quarter-acre block. Memories that are spiced rich with smell, colour, textures and feelings.
Somehow, just a few days after that first trip away since months of covid, I ended up driving by the house I grew up in on my way home from a trip to Sydney. What happened next squashed that disconnected, fuzzy feeling but has also given me a mind-bending riddle that I’m just now figuring out.
As I drove by my childhood home, I noticed a yellow development sign pinned to the low green and cream brick wall. This is the border wall that’s framed by a massive, native Lillipilly tree that the stingy caterpillars love. Parking the car, I walked over and read that the development is for another dwelling. As I was trying to figure out where exactly this would be, a young bloke carrying stuff for a council pickup walked down the gravel driveway to the grass near me. I asked him if he lives here and he said yes. Without thinking, I quickly said “I did too”. Then I asked him about the development. We ended up swapping stories about living there and I bombarded the poor guy with a bunch of questions, although he didn’t seem to mind.
No, he hadn’t noticed the ghost of Australian artist Lionel Lindsay who lived there too but his mum may have.
Yes, he’s seen the statue commemorating Lionel up at the park.
Yes, it is a really cool house in a heat wave (I felt that cool dry air relief as I whooshed in the door after walking home from school on a hot summer’s day)
Yes, the view from the top of the two 120 year old magnolia trees is pretty good. (I now saw into the hidden garden across the road and felt that exhilaration of climbing up high).
The pool is a lot of upkeep, and the little pond is still there. (I could see the light blue ripples as the sunlight sparked into the pool and I smelt the earthy dark waters of the tiny pond).
Yes, he’s seen lots of the funnel webs too.
Funnel web spider in attack position
As we talked, I could look right up the orange gravel drive to the far porch and apart from a flowering white climber stretching to the roof, and a BMW parked in the drive, the scene looked unchanged since my childhood. I kept noticing the wrong car and the image kept pulling me back to the present. But then I’d be remembering standing right there as a kid, talking about how my cattle dog bailed up a Funnel Webb spider under the flowering wisteria that draped over the pergola out the back. His dog did the same thing and he was worried, but I said I was worried too but then found out dogs are immune to the spider’s venom. Then I pointed to the gutter nearest us and told the guy that there was a funnel web spider there one night. While I was on a roll talking about spiders, I pointed to the gravel drive and recast how I had trodden barefoot on a huntsman spider in the dark that bit me. We talked about the neighbours and how the bushy creek at the end of the road is gone now and how I used to cut the lawn edges along the gutter with a manual rotor tool and how just this month I bought one for my place after all these years.
I think what really helped me consolidate my childhood memories of living in that house, was the easy flowing conversation with a young man who was gathering his own happy memories of living there. Every ten years or so I have driven past my childhood house, and I’m afraid to admit, it jarred me to look at the ‘new’ tasteful steel fence and the different orange plants and neat hedges. Now, this sensation dissolved thanks to a short but powerful story-swapping conversation with a stranger.
My bedroom opened out to this veranda (I took this photo ready for dancing for my 18th Birthday)
Jean Lindsay circa 1900 – 1910
After leaving the house, I drove the exact route I’d taken as a kid, threading through the streets where I’d take off on my bike or with the dog. My choice of streets meant I avoided the steep hills and traffic and the route took me past my favourite gardens. I noticed during the slow drive that the real estate looked more polished than I remember. What I found interesting, was as I instinctively turned into the various streets and recognised the scenery, it felt easy and okay. Just like during that conversation. I expected it to feel familiar, but the discomfort was gone. This surprised me. Remembering the free-flowing bike rides here felt good. This remembering may be the past, but the past is as real as the present as I drove my same childhood route decades later. I’m still not sure how to describe this but it feels like some sort of validation of my past and childhood and all that good stuff that goes with it. Not something to forget but rather to remember and cherish.
Me as a kid at home
The final layer I discovered when delving into this concept of shared memories is how we share connections to special things. One of those special things for me I share with Lionel Lindsay. A man I never met but nonetheless, as a kid, I had felt his somewhat judgmental vibe whilst growing up in his old house. One thing I didn’t divulge during the conversation with the current inhabitant, is that once or twice in the last few decades I drove past the house around Christmas time and I’d stop and snap off a monster sized magnolia flower from one of the two old trees, to take home. These are one of my favourite flowers. They are the size of a dinner plate and emit a heavy heady scent. The petals are thick and smooth and shine with a regal ivory colour.
I planted a magnolia tree in the garden where I currently live. It signifies home and is grounding to look at even if I feel a twinge of discord. I don’t think I’ll feel that twinge anymore.
Like me, Lionel admired the very same two magnolia trees and their repeated flux of flowers every year. The blooms inspired him to create beautiful artwork. They may also have become an anchor for him as they are for me. One of his magnolia works is entitled “Lionel’s Place”.
The young fella told me that after the recent big storms, the arborists said how they are amazed at how solid and strong those two huge Magnolia trees are. I love that. I’d say Lionel would too.
As a researcher, I was employed to study suicides in my home town. I became quite passionate about trying to help keep people alive using the data from the deceased people. My aim was to turn the deaths into something useful to prevent further suicides. That way the torment felt by those individuals would not be in vain. From all I read, I could not really understand what these people actually felt or experienced. I then came across something that offers a description of what people go through and I realized that this is something useful that people can use to empower themselves to stop the dangerous and tragic downwards trajectory.
This guide is a short explanation of the six stages of suicide with practical activities to help you prepare and assist your mind in the event it becomes irrational and unsafe.
Roy Baumeister, a social psychologist described these stages that people experience prior to carrying out suicidal acts.
Included is a mind-monitoring tool to assist you in identifying if your mind is displaying signs of reacting within the various six stages. This tool provides actions you can do to support your mind. A link to a printable PDF of the tool is included.
At the end of this guide, you can find a list of help crisis hotlines for various countries.
My original article is independently described as a:
‘Very good report, written in a humanistic way. The observed stages of suicide are of serious scientific interest, i.e. can help in preventive terms’.
The more you understand how your thoughts and emotions respond in irrational ways the more you can transform your actions beyond the influence of an unhelpful mind to that of a supportive mind and live freely and fully.
Reference: Baumeister R. F. (1990). Suicide as escape from self. Psychological Review, 97(1), 90-113
Review:
“Stages of Suicide is an excellent insight into the though patterns of those dealing with suicide. Each stage very well describes the kind of thoughts, behaviours and emotions one feels as their condition continues, which I found extremely accurate and relatable. As for someone who has experienced these stages second hand, this is an incredible tool that can help non-suicidal people understand what it is like to be suicidal which I believe is one of the most important things for dealing with suicide on the larger scale.
After each stage there is a ‘prepare your mind’ section which works as a helping hand/’what to do about this’ counterpart of the stage. I found this to be really useful in not only making the content a lot less daunting and overwhelming to take in, but the reader is reminded that regardless of what stage you find yourself or someone close to you in there is always a solution to help you get out of it, which is exactly how this book approaches the terror of suicidal ideation.
Moreover, the mind monitoring tool at the end seems incredibly useful to help the user understand their own thoughts and emotions as they go through stages as well as help to generate some rational thinking patterns.
Overall this is an extremely insightful and practical helping hand for those dealing with suicide. Definitely recommend this to anyone who are either going through it or know someone who is, this book can help!”
–Rhys Jones
If you or anyone you know needs help you can call:
Running fast along the creek gave me freedom from everyone and everything; school, boredom, teachers, schoolkids, brothers, parents, the lot. I could smell the sweet privet flowers and hear the quiet stream flowing along beside me. In anticipation, I’d run for the next turn, and leap the rocky creek bed into the old man’s orchard. Checking for shiny ripe fruit, I’d dance past before following the next bend in the creek. As the body moved along, the mind would slough everything behind and I’d slip smoothly into my own inner world. Entering this realm is a comfort like the first warming droplets of a hot shower soaking into a cooled neck and back.
I felt freedom because this is where I am free. I say ‘am free’ as I still often feel this kind of frizzy feeling when I’m moving through the bush with no one but me.
As I ran, the sun back-lit through green leaves of overgrown bush and the pretty weeds soothed me. I felt in control and powerful. No one was there to tell me what to do or what clothes to wear. I hated the rigidity of the tartan school uniform and choking tie, so I’d wear half of it down the creek in rebellion. It felt good. Outside of school, were not permitted to wear jumpers unless they were covered with heavy blazers. Eating in public was also banned.
Eventually I’d amble slowly back home feeling relaxed and soothed, ready for the rhythms of household living and the next days ahead of mundane school lessons and the usual chaos of people pressures.
I’m searching for a hint of falseness. The more I can’t find any, the more energy I’m imbued with. Even though I’m standing atop Mount Kosciuszko, feeling happy might seem odd given the life changer spanner sent my way the day before. Looking at my face in the photo of me standing on top of Australia reassures me. I look at this photo on my phone and zoom in with my fingers to scrutinise my expression some more. Yes, I really do look happy.
Happy!more happy…
Picking up my speckled granite rock, an ancient stone chip created in explosive volcanic times, I slot it into my cupped hand as if slipping it into an envelope. I feel power and strength transmitted to me as I do this. It strengthens my psyche and empowers my flesh. In my mind I think about the overall deep seated knowledge that I WILL be the same as I was that day on top of the highest mountain in Australia nearly a year ago.
My granite power rock
Two years ago, I picked up that rock chip from the side of the road close to the summit, and kept it near the front door in among’st a stack of other colourful pieces I’ve collected from here and there. I didn’t know then how important it would be to me in the future but I remember carefully selecting a rock that had a shape that felt easy in the hand. After that summit run last January, it has been my micro generator throughout the year when I’ve often needed a mental kick start. A reminder that my body will be okay and I’ll still be able to run and do everything I did before, even though my body has been ravished by surgery and chemotherapy. I WILL be the same. Maybe even better…somehow.
The granite is part of the main range where Mount Kosciuszko sits high up over the blue land far around. Several years ago, in a shallow valley to the north-east of the summit, I walked alone between the snow drifts. There were shallow peat pools and a ground cover of soft pale grey green snow grass. As I walked close to a jagged black rock tor that towered over me, I heard a roaring sound like that of a jet flying overhead. It reminded me of the earthquake I experienced in the Kimberleys in remote Western Australia which sounded like about eight jumbo jets. The loud rumbling sound penetrated the air and a sort of shimmer wave moved past me and wooshed away across the alpine valley. Looking around, there was no wind moving the white paper daisies or the snow grass. No jets in the electric blue sky, nothing. All I know was what I felt and heard, and I can only describe it as perhaps a spirit or some type of energy I had flushed from the tor. No malevolence, just kind of it.
Summit Track
In January this year, as I ran over that solid and dark, speckled ground to the summit I felt a great sense of power in the land. I thought about the energy spirit thing that ‘resides’ a few hundred metres from where I ran. The day before, I had phoned my doctor for the results of a biopsy test and he told me that I had breast cancer. Four days of preparation in my head helped me prior to hearing this news. I had rationalized stuff. The twenty two kilometre run solidified my rationalizations. I did feel good.
Grounding to earth
I was grounding myself to the earth with every step. I was confident then in returning to my normal self after the year of treatment. I have been confident during the year of surgery and treatment with a little help from my speckled rock and from strong human support that I have been so lucky to have gained. I am still confident. I trust my knowing myself. Soon I’ll be back in the strong powerful granite lands with my body intact and pretty much back to normal with another smile like the one in my photo.
