ONCE-SUICIDAL TEENS SHARE EXPERIENCES WITH THERAPY

At times, life seems hopeless. It's worse when you don't have anyone you can talk to.

There is a way to get help - with therapy.

Children's Express recently interviewed two teen-agers who have been in therapy and have been hospitalized at St. Vincent Stress Center. Mary and John are both 16 and from the Indianapolis area. Their names have been changed to protect their privacy.

John's story

My parents divorced when I was like 4 years old. I have an older brother almost two years older than me.

Maybe it started in sixth grade. In sixth and seventh grade, I felt like my mom was against me all of a sudden, and I was doing all I could to make her feel like I wasn't her son anymore.

In eighth grade, I was the same way but more hostile. Toward Christmastime, I was mutilating myself. I took a scalpel and cut myself. The telltale scars were on my arms. I wore long shirts so my mom and teachers wouldn't notice.

I hated everybody. I guess I still do, at least the vast majority.

This past year, after a fight one night with my mom, she said I needed help. She thought she got really deep with me, and I was crying my eyes out. My voice got really hoarse after a couple of hours, I was screaming so much. She wanted to know what was wrong with me, and I guess that didn't prove I was a very mature person.

She ended up getting a psychiatrist. I met my psychiatrist for the first time on my birthday. I hated it. I did not like him. It was normal not to like him. I was spiteful to him. I ended up taking a personality test or something like that, and they told me I was pretty depressed. I knew that.

I don't know where my depression comes from. Maybe I'm too cynical. I'm negative and still very depressing to be around. I was diagnosed as clinically depressed in that winter. Depression tends to make me forget that I was not always like this. I know I used to enjoy life.

I was prescribed an anti-depressant, and I took it for about a month. I guess the Prozac helped. They say it doesn't help unless you change your attitude. I guess it helped because although I was clinically depressed, I didn't feel that way all the time.

But another problem got the better of me, and I stopped taking the medication. My problem is disrespecting authority, and I was sensing that I was being controlled.

Prozac kept me in a steady mood, pretty content. But I was really getting angry. I felt like I was being controlled. It's a mood-altering drug, and I don't like being controlled by anything.

So I ceased taking it for two weeks. They call it a relapse. I just got really down. I attempted suicide then for about the eighth time in my life.

I downed 25 pain relievers. I went to bed, and I guess I expected to die. I didn't. I woke up the next morning. I felt terrible. I went to school, my same bitter self.

I didn't really let anything out until 10th period. I was getting really stressed - a couple of guys in the class were ridiculing me. I went to the pay phone and called my mom and blew up at her. She knew about the depression, but she didn't know about all the suicide attempts besides.

She picked me up at school. We went to talk to my psychologist, and they called the stress center and within 24 hours I was in the stress center.

No words can describe what the stress center is like. They pry. They ridicule.

My opinion is it helps, but I'd hate to go through it again. Some kids have to go there maybe four times. But you really get to know who you are.

First, they do an assessment. They ask you a bunch of questions like, "How much do you weigh?" "Are you sexually active?" "Are you a drug abuser?"

They check your clothes for anything dangerous and sharp. They draw blood and see if you really did what you did. They told me if I (tried to overdose) one more time, I would die.

I passed out when they took blood. I'm a wuss.

You have no privacy. You're only in your room when you go to bed or to get your clothes.

You go in there with risks - they judge which precautions to give you. They gave me high suicide risk, high-risk escape (they give that to everyone), assault, and I think they gave me close observation. Under close observation, you can't even pee without a staff member standing outside the door.

They put your stuff in your room. They put all your clothes in this cabinet, and they only unlock the cabinets at certain times at night and in the morning. They make you shower. When you're on high-risk suicide, you can't sleep in your room.

When you're in the stress center, you're in for 24 hours of treatment a day. It's nerve-racking because you're worried that you'll say something wrong.

I didn't know it was going to be that strict.

The staff people in there have power. They tell you you have the power, but they have the power to make you sit on a hard chair all day. I sat on a chair for two weeks. I was in for three weeks.

They give you "extended chair" if they think you're not focusing on your problems or just focusing at all. On extended chair, you're in the day room, facing the wall, can't look down, can't play with your hair, can't talk to anyone. Four hours at a time. You eat facing the wall. You get breaks to stretch, go to the bathroom.

It drives you out of your mind.

There are three shifts of employees. You don't see the night shift unless you have trouble sleeping. They give you a sheet with questions: How assertive are you? Did you express your feelings? If you get above 80 percent, you earn a shift. That means you can go to group therapy the next shift.

Group therapy is what you do the whole time in there if you're not in the chair. Expressing your feelings, being assertive, telling the truth - those are the big things in there. Sometimes I like it; sometimes I found it helpful. It depended on what mood I was in.

Half of the staff members there helped me, and the other half, I just didn't understand their mind games. A few staff members are trained specifically to p- - - you off, and they are so good at it. If you're new there, they'll do it to you.

I would say they do it to help you. You bring it upon yourself. I agree that a lot of it did help me. (After I was admitted), the first week and two or three days after that helped.

In therapy, they got you to talk about why you were in there.

You have to get really honest with yourself if you want to help yourself in the stress center. I went halfway. I didn't want to change myself.

After I left the stress center, I was in day therapy. It's like a step down. The therapy isn't as intense. I loved everything about it. It's comforting.

At the day center, it's only four hours a day, five days a week. I went after school. I loved it. I liked the people, the attitude - people aren't indifferent there, they are caring. It's a good atmosphere. You feel good about yourself.

I was in day therapy for two weeks, stress center for three weeks. Then I went to group therapy one hour, one day a week.

The level of helpfulness goes down as you leave the stress center. If I had another chance, I would have tried (to kill myself) again. I was definitely suicidal at the time.

No one can stop me from being depressed. I have a chemical imbalance. I'll be on medication for many years.

I just pretend the Prozac keeps me from being suicidal. If I believe it does, it will. You can work against any mood- altering drug if you try, but I don't want to do it.

If it's going to help me, I might as well go along with it.

As for depression, everybody experiences it. But some people won't let go of it. Therapy attempts to give you tools and support that you need to treat problems. But it depends on your attitude. I am constantly trying to stay positive. That's my never-ending goal. Being a master of cynicism, it's a challenge.

Mary's story

Regular therapy started when I was about 9 or 10 because my parents split up, and it was suggested to my mom to have my sister and me go to therapy to deal with it. And so I started going to therapy for that.

Then we stopped going for a while because I refused to go, and I thought it was stupid. I didn't want to talk. I always thought my therapists were dumb, and I didn't want to talk to them.

Then my grandma died and my grandpa died within like three months of each other, so that was pretty hard. My grandfather was like perfect. I mean he was nice to everyone. He didn't judge people before he met them. He was pretty cool for being old.

So I had to go to therapy for that. I think I was 13 or 14. And then things at my house were like really, really bad as far as getting along with my mom. She speaks her mind no matter whose feelings it's going to hurt.

I was really, really depressed. I kind of had a little bit of anorexia. I guess I was anorexic. So I went into therapy again for that. My mom went also with me, and pretty much I refused to work on anything. I was like, "No, I don't want to do this. This is dumb."

So nothing was helping. My mom just gave up, and she let me move in with my dad. I lived with my dad for about six months. I didn't like it there because I didn't get along with my stepmom. It was just better living away from him. So I moved back in with my mom, and I was depressed again.

I wasn't doing any of my homework, and I started hanging around with different people. I was drinking on the weekends and things. Then I overdosed on ibuprofen and I had to go to the emergency room.

That's how I met my psychiatrist. He sent me to the stress center.

I hated it the whole time I was there. I thought just going to therapy was bad, but they pretty much make you work (at the stress center), and if you don't, then you stay there longer. You pretty much have no choice.

Some of the groups were called Anger Management, Stress Management. You had music group. Some of them were fun. Some were kind of tough because they emphasized really expressing your feelings. And that was one of the things that was really hard for me because it was just easy for me to not deal with them and push them aside.

(I was there) 2 1/2 weeks.

After I got out of it, I was like, "Well, maybe it wasn't so bad." I mean, I'm a lot better now. I met a lot of people when I was there. You don't really feel like you're that much alone as far as your problems went.

(When I returned to school) most of the kids just stared at me. Some of them that were really concerned came up to me and asked me how I was doing and everything. And some of them who were just nosy, I just blew off. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

I go once a week to family therapy, and my mom and my stepdad and my sister usually go with me.

And then I go to group therapy once a week. It's just with kids that have been through the day therapy and the stress center. Some of them I was in the stress center with.

Someone can bring up a topic every week - you know, something that they're dealing with that week. And you give feedback to that person and you can give them advice and they tell you if they want it. My psychiatrist and family therapist are in there.

My psychiatrist, he's very straightforward. He tells you how it is. He doesn't beat around the bush. I was having problems eating. I didn't want to eat, and he said, "Well, you're going to have to go back to the stress center unless you start eating."

Before, I pretty much didn't care about anything or anyone except for myself. And I didn't really care about myself that much or else I wouldn't have tried to kill myself.

I didn't care about grades. I kind of just thought, "What's the point of going to school? I don't learn anything." I was very morbid, I guess.

I didn't talk that much to people unless they talked to me first, and I only had three friends. I mean I had acquaintances, but I only had three people that I was really close to, because I didn't trust anyone.

And now that I'm out of the stress center, I have a lot more friends, a lot more people that I hang around with. This year I'm doing a lot better as far as grades go, so it's not hard to get up and go.

My parents and I don't really have the greatest relationship, but compared to what it was, it's a lot better. I love my mom, but I just can't stand her. We're a lot alike in some ways, and then in some ways we're not alike at all.

She doesn't understand. It's almost like she was never a kid. It's like she's been an adult all her life. She went to a private school and she pretty much got all A's as a kid, and I've never been like that and I never will. I refuse to. I don't think anybody should be perfect.

I don't think she understands how important high school is. It's like the last years of your life that you actually don't have hardly any responsibility, and you can have fun and not really worry except for your grades.

She doesn't understand why I have to be gone Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I try to explain to her that I'm at school all week. I don't have any free time over the week. The weekend is my only free time. She doesn't understand that.

She doesn't understand why I dress the way I do and why I listen to the kind of music that I do and things like that.

I want to go to college, that's Number 1. I want to become a psychiatrist or psychologist - I haven't decided if I want to go to medical school or not.

Marriage and a family isn't one of my goals. If it happens, it happens. But I'm not really too excited about getting married or having children.

I want to join the Peace Corps. I'm a real humanitarian, and I think I could do a lot of good as far as that went. EDITED BY: Allison Mikkalo, 14; Tony Dale, 15; and Christina Gleitz, 15.