PART I:
FOUNDATIONS
Chapter 1
What Works? Building on What We Know to Develop Practice Principles
In this chapter, I propose a series of practice principles for therapeutic talk about suicide. These principles are based on several ways of knowing:
1. The context of clinical experienceāwhat clients teach us about what works
2. The hard-earned wisdom of survivors (people who have been bereaved by suicide) and first voices (people who have lived and struggled with their own suicidal thoughts and actions)
3. The application of solution-focused brief therapy (SFBT) methods, as developed by Insoo Kim Berg, Steve de Shazer, and their colleagues at the Brief Family Therapy Center in Milwaukee (e.g., Berg & de Shazer, 1994; Berg & Dolan, 2001; De Jong &Berg, 2002; de Shazer, 1985, 1988a, 1991a, 1994; de Shazer et al., 2007)
4. What the available literature tells us about what works (see Appendix B for a discussion of the evidence base)
These principles are not rules, guidelines, theories, or ābest practices.ā āBest practiceā in solution-focused therapy is simply what works for a particular client-therapist system. And the current state of empirical knowledge about helpful treatment in suicide intervention is still so limited (Comtois & Linehan, 2006; Hawton, 2000; Heard, 2000; Linehan, 1999a, 2004; Rudd, Joiner, & Rajab, 2001) that our best practice guidelines or standards of care must be regarded as highly tentative works-in-progress. We must be prepared to ātake action with imperfect knowledgeā (White, 2004). These practice principles are a description of how I take actionāhow I approach and work with the most critical resources for helping clients who are struggling with suicidal thoughts or behaviors: their own knowledge, capacities, and communications.
Practice Principles for Suicide Intervention
Utilize what the client brings.
Focus on reasons for living.
Make every encounter therapeutic.
Contain crisis.
Tap into hope.
Help the client set constructive goals.
Collaborate with clients and with colleagues.
Work with systems.
Be mindful.
Watch your language!
Evaluate effectiveness.
Do what you can do.
UTILIZE WHAT THE CLIENT BRINGS
The concept and practice of utilization is one of Milton Ericksonās many gifts to the helping field (de Shazer, 1988b). Erickson utilized capacities and beliefs already within the clientās repertoire to build helping interventions. This practice is supported by over forty years of convergent research findings showing that āclient factorsā make the single most important contribution to positive treatment outcomes, accounting for 40 percent of the variance, compared to only 15 percent accounted for by therapeutic model or technique (Asay & Lambert, 1999; Lambert, 1992; Tallman & Bohart, 1999).
One of my favorite Erickson stories concerns his meeting with an elderly woman (as with any good story, there are numerous versions of this one, e.g., Bertolino & OāHanlon, 2002, and Gordon & Meyers-Anderson, 1981). This woman lived by herself in an old house. She was in poor health and confined to a wheelchair. Her social world had become increasingly limited, and she seemed despondent and uninterested in life. A relative who lived in another state, concerned about her decline, asked Dr. Erickson to consult, and he made a house call. The woman was polite but clearly reluctant to speak with him, and he resorted to asking for a tour of her home. Their tour was quick: the house was dreary and crumbling, the only signs of life a collection of African violet plants in the back. Dr. Erickson suggested to the woman that if she would agree to do just one thingāsomething easy for her to doāhe would in turn promise to leave and never come back. When she agreed to the bargain, he asked her to find out which families in her community had recently experienced important eventsābirths, deaths, engagements, weddingsāand to take such families a small African violet plant. He left and never saw the woman again.
There is, of course, a punch line to this story, a newspaper clipping with the headline āAfrican violet queen dies. Thousands mourn.ā
I love the simplicity and richness of this story, how it demonstrates Ericksonās capacity to pay attention to what got the clientās attention, and to utilize what mattered to her. He helped her to take a small step that (1) was within her existing repertoire and (2) made a difference in her lifeāa difference that made a difference.
Fortunately, in our day-to-day work we rarely have to match Milton Ericksonās perceptive gifts to help people to utilize what they have. People tell us quite openly what is important to them (where they keep their own African violets). Often, they also tell us how to make use of these gifts: how to help them reconnect, or stay connected, with life. Our task, then, is to watch and listen for the African violets. It doesnāt matter where we start, as long as we start with somethingāanythingāthat is live and real and meaningful for the individual.
Tips for Utilizing What the Client Brings
⢠Remember: āIf you are going to help people change, first you have to get their attention.ā (Berg, 1989; emphasis added)
⢠To get their attention, focus on whatever is salient, relevant, and important to them.
⢠Look for ways that you and your clients can
ā increase utilization that is already occurring (what they are already doing that works) and
ā further utilize whatever matters to them.
FOCUS ON REASONS FOR LIVING
As our grandmothers could have told us, reasons for living are highly potent African violets. Identifying, highlighting, and reinforcing reasons for living is key to engaging in helpful conversations with individuals who are viewing suicide as a solution to their problems. Therefore, āas clinicians we should be unabashed in our active pursuit of reasons for living in the patientās lifeā (Jobes, 2006, p. 87).
Ambivalence has long been viewed as a significant aspect of the phenomenology and behavior associated with suicide (e.g., Shneidman, 1993). The person both wants to die and, at the same time, in at least some small, real way, wants to live. Much of our suicide intervention practice has dealt with the wanting-to-die side of this ambivalence, āunpackingā the individualās views chiefly in terms of achieving a better understanding of reasons for dying. I suggest that we redress this imbalance by allocating at least as much air time to reasons for living.
Research findings support the importance of this shift in balance. For example, āattraction to lifeā has been shown to be an important variable in suicide risk, adding unique information to that provided by assessing ārepulsion toward lifeā and āattraction toward deathā (Muehlenkamp, 2003). Heisel and his colleagues have demonstrated that meaning in life and satisfaction with life are preventive factors for suicidal ideation (e.g., Heisel & Flett, 2000).
In validation work with the Reasons for Living Scale developed by Marsha Linehan and her colleagues, predictive accuracy improved significantly when reasons for living were included in suicide risk evaluation (Linehan, Goodstein, Nielsen, & Chiles, 1983; Strosahl, Chiles, & Linehan, 1992). In addition, just completing Reasons for Living questionnaires stimulated new and useful conversations in the subjectsā therapy relationships, providing new direction and a different kind of āgrist for the millā (Linehan, 1999a).
In practice, taking an interest in the clientās reasons for living means attending to whatever is salient, relevant, and important to the client. Beginning with whatever is āliveā for the client, and then following those leads, is the simplest and usually the fastest route to understanding real or potential reasons for living. I try to remember one of my grandmotherās lessons: that African violets can survive even in dark places.
Tip for Focusing on Reasons for Living
Ask yourself:
⢠Am I spending at least as much of the time I have with this person focusing on reasons for living as on reasons for dying?
⢠What is relevant, salient, and important to this person?
⢠Where are the African violets?
MAKE EVERY ENCOUNTER THERAPEUTIC
The modal (most common) number of sessions in any kind of psychotherapy is one (Talmon, 1990). Furthermore, ābecause of the nature of this [suicidal and self-harming] client group, the likelihood that the first session will also be the last is even greater than across psychotherapy in generalā (Callcott, 2003, p. 76). Therefore, we need to maximize the helpful impact of any conversation with a person involved in suicidal thinking, planning, or behaviorāthat conversation may be our one opportunity to make a difference.
In virtually any text or professional journal article on clinical work with individuals struggling with suicide, the predominant emphasis is on risk assessment. This emphasis reflects suicidology research, which is heavily weighted toward studies of epidemiology and risk factors and, at the practice level, toward risk assessment and prediction.
The plethora of quantitative research findings on hundreds of significant predictors of risk, from gender to family history of depression, can certainly offer some information about where we should direct primary prevention efforts (e.g., Jenkins & Singh, 2000; White & Jodoin, 1998). However, risk prediction research has yet to provide an inventory of useful tools for clinical use with a troubled person (Chiles & Strohsal, 1995; Goldney, 2000; Rudd et al., 2002; Sakinofsky, 2000). āSuicide is notoriously difficult to predict at the level of the individualā (Sakinofsky, 2000, pp. 393-394). The most valid and reliable assessments on two critical dimensions of suicidality, intent (to die) and lethality (of plan and method), are those made by the individuals being evaluated. Professionals can neither agree among themselves nor match the validity and reliability of self-assessment (Furst & Huffine, 1991; Joiner, Rudd, & Rajab, 1999). Nor is a typical risk assessment interview likely to encourage kindling of the āsingle molecule of hopeā (Quinnett, 2000, p. 205), or of the life-saving curiosity about possible change, that can encourage a desperate person to hold on for just a little longer. Furthermore, a āquestion and answer interviewā may ācover our organizational agenda, but risk antagonizing the patientā (Callcott, 2003, p. 76). Chiles and Strosahl (2005) caution:
Going through textbook suicide risk factors for their own sake can be a futile exercise and can be antitherapeutic if the exercise leaves your patient with a sense of not being understood. Be sure to collect information that can be used in a positive set of interventions. (p. 74; emphasis added)
If we spend our precious time with a despairing person conducting a thorough risk assessmentāand doing only thatāwe may miss a valuable and perhaps unique opportunity to be helpful.
My colleague Michael Kennedy is an experienced solution-focused practitioner and teacher who for many years directed a crisis intervention program in the emergency service of a large Toronto teaching hospital. He and his staff often had very limited time (perhaps twenty minutes) in which to meet with a person in crisis, sometimes following a suicide attempt. In that time, they had to collect the information on history, symptoms, mental status, etc., which was required for hospital records, and to decide on diagnostic, referral, and treatment recommendations. Despite these pressures and demands, Kennedy insisted that āevery contact can and should be a therapeutic oneā (personal communication, October 3, 2002). His message seems critically important to me.
I am also struck by Kennedyās report that when he approaches clients in a solution-focused way, he typically ends up with all the information about their problems and histories that he needs, but without having subjected his clients to a āproblem-saturatedā interview. Instead, the data are obtained in the context of a conversation about what changes would be useful, and what strengths and resources of the individual may be helpful in achieving such changes (Mich...