This month’s blog comes to us from our good friend Janet. We are grateful that she is willing to share it with us.
I watch CBS Sunday Morning whenever I am home on the weekends. Last Sunday, they featured a story that is just all too common. 17-year old high school student Alexandra Valoras was at the top of her class. She was brilliant in robotics. She had friends. She was well-liked. She was an athlete. She laughed a lot. She smiled a lot. She had parents who loved and supported her. She had a wonderful life. She had so much to live for. She walked to the edge of a bridge and threw herself off, committing suicide on a random night in a random week in a random month…or so it appeared to everyone around her.
A Smile is Never an Indication
When interviewed, nobody in her life even had the slightest clue that Alexandra was depressed or unhappy or struggling. Her parents recalled taking her to a concert recently. There is video of Alexandra laughing and smiling and waving at the camera. Later that night in her journal she wrote about how much she HATED going to the concert. How she just wanted to be home and was miserable and felt out of place and alone.
Her journal. Her journal revealed all. Pages and pages of self-loathing…descriptions of herself as an utter failure…a failure in school…a failure in life. She could never be good enough. She wasn’t perfect enough; and all she felt was pressure to be better. She didn’t relish in any of her achievements. She never thought she was good enough. She never cited any pressure from outside forces…only internal judgments and at each and every turn, she found herself guilty.
I found myself thinking about my own history. I have struggled with chronic depression my entire life and I’m now in my 50’s. I have kept journals. If I had a nickel for every time the word “failure” appears in those journals, I’d be a very wealthy woman. I failed my friends. I failed my family. I failed at my job. I failed at just trying to be a decent person. I travelled into deep, dark, and desperate places.sure that everyone would be better off without me. Sure that if I just drove my car into that brick wall, I could make it all better for me…and for everyone else in my life.
So, why am I still here and Alexandra is not? There is one huge distinction between her story and mine and it comes down to people and relationships. Alexandra had nobody in her life who even had an inkling of what she was going through. I did. And I still do.
The People in Our Lives are the Key
I have had many friends, co-workers, acquaintances…so many people in my life. But only two know the real story…the whole story. Some of them know some of the story but only two have travelled the road with me. Stood by my side…and kept me from driving into that brick wall: my psychiatrist and my husband.
I was blessed early on to find a doctor who “got” me, who never belittled what I was feeling and always had a clear, rational explanation for what I was doing…what I was feeling…and extended to me a clear path about how to change the things I wanted to change. He was always consistent and calm and reassuring. The wonderful thing about therapy is that you can SAY anything in that room…and it really has no consequences. It’s different than talking to a friend or a spouse who might be influenced by what you say. It’s the complete freedom to say whatever you want about whomever you want whenever you want and not have it impact anything other than giving you a place to share your deepest feelings and work through them. I could write a very large tome on our thirty years together as doctor and patient, but that’s for another day. He was, and still is, the angel always on my shoulder whispering the things that I needed to hear, that if they didn’t help me in the moment, at least gave me the hope that I WOULD feel better. It might take minutes, hours, days, or even weeks…but I would always feel better. And I always have.
Then there is my husband…so steady…so non-judgmental…so understanding…and so independent. He knew what he was getting into when he married me. He knew about my dark places. For some reason, and I still can’t figure it out, they never bothered him. He just rides the wave, allowing me my feelings and never discrediting them. He knows when to just hold me and let me cry until the pain goes away. He has such a wonderfully rational way of looking at things. I asked him once what he would do if things got so dark for him. He immediately and without any hesitation, said “I turn the lights on.” I LOVE him for that answer. He never truly understands or can internalize what I’m feeling but he doesn’t have to and he doesn’t try to and he doesn’t try to make me change. He accepts me for who I am and he always listens when I need to vent, talk, explain, rationalize…no matter how crazy it all may sound. He lets me hibernate and sleep away a weekend if that’s what I need to do to get back on track. Again, I could write another whole book about the support I have received from my husband, but suffice it to say that nobody understands me the way that he does and nobody would put up with me the way he does. He doesn’t mind riding the roller coaster of emotion with me and again, for that I love him deeply and completely.
I have a wonderful group of friends who, even though they don’t always know it, have been supportive and kind to me. I would like to think that they would understand and forgive me for not sharing ALL of me with them. But being able to share even parts of it here and there have been a blessing. And I love them all.
It Just Takes One
So…back to the point of my story. Suicide is the second leading cause of death among teenagers aged 15-19. We hear over and over again about families who have no clue. It’s the saddest story there is. Someone going through so much pain alone. Feeling so trapped. Seeing no light at the end of the tunnel. How sad it is that someone who is 17 years old and with an entire life ahead of her really sees NO WAY OUT?
One relationship….one bit of trust…one cathartic outlet for someone’s pain and grief…can make all the difference in someone’s life. So, please….i beg you…listen…understand…reach out a hand…make sure that those you love KNOW that you will not judge them, no matter how they feel about themselves, about life, about you. Having someone to talk to…having someone to hold…having someone who doesn’t necessarily understand, but allows you to be you….can make all the difference.
Alexandra’s friends and family had no clue. And maybe there was no way to know. We absolutely cannot fault them for what happened. But going forward, perhaps we can all make sure we have the conversations with our loved ones…the “what if” conversations….the one that says “if you were ever feeling so desperate and lonely and depressed, I would want to know and I would want to help. I love you.” Maybe that conversation, or others like it, might save even one Alexandra in the future. We can only try. And we can only hope.