I got back from Mass this morning and browsed through the Post. The metro section was open; at the bottom of the page I spotted an article about William and Mary. As I read, thoughts flashed through my mind. When I was visiting campus several weeks ago, a good friend had told me about the recent suicide. Sorrowful happenings like these rock even the strongest community - she told me that people had been struggling, crying, sorrowful about this student's death.
The article highlighted different schools' efforts to detect depression and prevent suicide - high-stress and high-achievement schools like Cornell, MIT, and NYU, or W&M, where "your best isn't good enough since 1693" (to quote a popular phrase at the College). To say that I'm not surprised sounds cold and unfeeling; I promise that these are not my sentiments. What I mean to say is, I understand. I know that place.
Last year (2009) was the most difficult of my life thus far, though it was also a year of joy and beauty. About two weeks into the year I flew to Guatemala for a much-anticipated study abroad experience. Yet while I was visiting ancient Maya sites, tutoring children in math, and diving into lessons in Guatemalan Spanish, I sunk into the depression that comes from absence; the absence of loved ones, familiar places, and human intimacy - the touch of a hand, an embrace, a knowing smile. When I returned home, the difficulties did not disappear, but were replaced with new ones. The beginning of my senior year at William and Mary, I was struggling with health issues I did not understand, and a recent breakup with a man I love dearly. September I was hospitalized with an abscess; in October I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease. Yet through all this, I was striving to maintain my GPA, to apply for jobs and volunteer opportunities after college, fulfill leadership roles in multiple organizations; to be a friend. But I never felt that my efforts were enough; this was not an excuse to let my grades slip, or to not give all my effort and energy to campus organizations. I cannot imagine getting through those months without the love and support of my friends and family - from my roommates to my campus ministers to my parents.
In the face difficult times, or even the seemingly small difficulties of everyday life - depression does happen. To struggle with it doesn't mean you're weak, or that you are worthless, or that you are not loved. And it certainly doesn't mean you're alone. I don't want anyone to be deceived; to think that my generally lighthearted entries mark a life without fear or sorrow. Each person bears heavy struggles through his life, too often silently and alone.
In memory of Whitney Mayer, who I never knew, or met. For all those who feel alone, who bear their struggles silently. In thanksgiving for every single person who brought light and joy to my dark times.
Thank you.
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