If you had asked me two years ago where I would be today, I’d have told you that I can’t see myself that far into the future. If I really trusted you, I might have told you that I felt as if I had no future past 2018. Looking back, it seems close to miraculous to know that that I pushed myself hard enough to not just exist but live.
September 20th, 2018. That was the date that one of my closest friends succumbed to the pressures of society. In the most narcissistic way, I always felt guilty for her death. As if it were my fault that she felt there was no other choice but to overdose, that she was in a position where she had no-one to turn to. She was one of the best people to ever come into my life, or anyone else’s for that matter, so it always puzzled me to think of that call.
For weeks afterwards, I’d make up scenarios in my head. Some where she didn’t end up dead, where she and I would still do our Sunday lunches together and go on double dates in fields that we picked out together over all-nighters and sugar highs. Some where I saw us 20 years in the future with the movie-like white picket fences and kids the same age. Some, even, where I never met her at all, and I would be able to go on with my life without feeling this constant heaviness. It took me a while to understand why. It took me a while to fully understand that this was never about me. To stop dreaming about these scenarios with her AND me. There was this thing she used to say to me: ‘Don’t find someone you see a future with, find someone you don’t see a future without’. To be fairly honest, I never really understood it, but after losing someone I loved, after losing my best friend, I started to think that I did. I thought I understood what was happening in her head at the time, who was bullying her, what had happened to her. I thought I did – but I didn’t, at least, not until I felt the same kind of pain she did at the time.
We all deal with it differently. Some of us pretend that everything is alright until we’re gone. Some of us push everyone away so we don’t have to deal with the guilt when we are gone. Some of us have the silent battles that never go away. She pretended until the very end, possibly even to herself. Maybe she lied to herself, saying that no-one would miss her anyways. Maybe she knew that we would all feel like shit after she was gone and used it as a kind of revenge on the people who thought that she was only a little bitchier just for the sake of it. While a sad story, as our entire group of friends fell apart, it taught me some of the more instrumental lessons life has for us. Although she’ll never knew it, there were too many of us who fell apart in her absence. She taught me that even though I may not see it, there is always someone there who love me in their own way. She gave me a kind of bravery that rose out of fear. The kind of bravery you need to talk to people and tell them you love them. The kind that came from the fear of losing.
In light of Suicide Prevention Month, I wanted to share this story of grief as a celebration of the life of a beautiful soul. We all go through our worst in our own ways and often forget the many people who stay with us and love us no matter the current circumstances. Although it may not seem like it, there is always going to be someone who falls apart when you are gone. Suicide is one of the leading causes of death in young people. And yet is the most easily preventable. If on September 20th 2018, I called her simply to just be with her, maybe she would be here today and we would still be having dreams of our shared future.
Check up with your friend just for the sake of it. Tell them you love them just because you do.
If you need help, do not hesitate to call an adult or reach out to suicide hotlines.
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