I never expected it to affect me so deeply. But it did. I first heard the news from my older sister, who had seen it through a friend on Facebook, and she asked me if I knew the girl who committed suicide. I did. I was acquainted with her from a few classes in junior high. But we were now seniors. And I lived in another state. Another state since freshman year. In the time since then I had written and sent her one or two letters, and seen her briefly at cheer camp when my family returned to my hometown for a few days during the summer between my sophomore and junior years. That was it. Even in my time living there we never really became close. I called and spoke to her a few times on the phone in 8th grade before I moved and was starting to build a friendship (back when you did these things on landlines). But after moving we lacked enough substance to continue what we started. Yet three years after I moved away she ended it all. And I felt it.
It struck me to the core for several reasons. When I knew her in junior high she was always smiling and laughing in all my classes. She was the last person you would expect to struggle with mental health. She would walk into a room and the air felt lighter from her presence. I thought of Karen as someone with a bubbly personality that overflowed to those around her. How could so much light end in such darkness? It was jarring and disrupted my sense of order in the universe.
At the same time that Karen left this world, I began my own battle with mental health that would last nine years. For me it was not feeling loved or wanted, due to an unreciprocated fixation on a girl I coyly termed my special someone at my current school. My mental health issues would continue to descend into darkness as woman after woman would reject me, as I placed my desires and hopes in my value to each of these women. It was faulty, destructive thinking that led me down that rabbit hole. A hole that Jesus rescued me from at the bottom in 2017. But that is a different story for another day.
As I grappled in the fall of 2008 with my own battle, my thoughts dwelled on what happened to Karen. And it changed me. I started to blame myself. I put the burden of her passing on myself. I listened to the thoughts in my head that whispered if only I had reached out more to her. If only I had written another letter. Or called her. It was my fault. I was so fixated on one girl in my school who didn’t even like me more than a friend that I neglected everyone else. Then it hit me, You never know who is going through something. No one knew I was grappling with my own depression. No one would expect it. I was a state champion in cross-country. I was a star A caliber student. I was generally happy and exciting to be around at school. I was the life of the cross-country and track teams. And yet I was battling my own demons.
I shouldered the onus of Karen and sought to redeem her act (or so I thought). If I could reach out to those around me and carry their burdens, then no one else would succumb to the thoughts that Karen did. I could carry the weight. I could encourage and be a friend to those in need. I could carry their cares so they didn’t have to. That was my thinking. I was going to ensure no one else in my circle would go that route. And in the process it helped me cope with my own sadness. My own feelings of rejection. Because I now had value to others. I was doing something in the lives of those around me. My will to continue was a testament to Karen’s act.
Every night I logged on to Myspace / Facebook and checked in with friends and comrades from school. Even those I barely interacted with in person in hallways and classrooms. I was a watchful guardian over my school. I built new friendships by putting myself out there. I started to be vulnerable and honest with those around me. Even those I didn’t know very well. Some called me emo. Some never responded. I learned how difficult it is to open up and be transparent and vulnerable to those around you. It caused a shift in how I interacted with others. And this is how I honored Karen’s legacy. Or so I thought.
My favorite album at the time was Exodus by Plus One. The song “Be Love” in particular spoke to me. The chorus informed how I lived more than anything else:
“Well if you need love, Take the time and be love
Breathe it out create love See how things can turn
If you need love Give yourself and be love
Breathe it out create love See how things can turn”
I lived and breathed those words. My heart was aching. But from a place of pain grew compassion for others. That fall was the first time in my life I distinctly recall the feeling of compassion. I could relate to others because of what I was going through. I was going to be love for others (The rest of the album is fire too).
My parents didn’t know. I never shared my thoughts and feelings with them. I cried in my room listening to music. But in the common areas of our house I was jovial. I would open up to those I barely said a word to at school and tell them what I was struggling with but never to my family. I was an ear for those in need. I would share my story and my struggle and we could commiserate. In the pain and sadness I somehow felt alive. Because I was feeling for once in my life. I wasn’t closed off to my emotions. I was a human. A hurting person. I learned to be comfortable with the pain and sadness. Because feeling something was better than feeling nothing at all. This feeling gnawed away at my psyche for the next nine years.
All the while I bore the weight of Karen’s choice on my shoulders and used it to fuel and justify who I was. Each year on September 6 I continued to mourn and reflect on her passing. It was always a dark day. A heavy heart. Some years it lasted the entire week. It scarred my soul and left indelible marks. But I was wrong. Everything was wrong. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t healthy for me to bear that burden. I barely knew her. My actions were aligned correctly, but my motivation came from a dark place. An unsustainable place.
It wasn’t until overcoming my own battle with the darkness that I made peace with what happened to Karen. I let go of owning that responsibility. But in the process I became less concerned with those around me. I became desensitized again. Now I rarely reach out to those in my circle. I am no longer an intentional silent guardian for those around me. The truth is it becomes exhausting to care for others ad infinitum without being poured back into yourself. I drained my heart during the years following September 6, 2008, and it has never been the same.
But there is a reason God gives us burdens to bear. The journey I went on molded who I am today. And because I went through that darkness and explored various ways of coping with it, I am better equipped to aid and walk with others in their own battles with personal demons. I have a special place in my heart for those not feeling loved. For those feeling rejected. For those struggling with thoughts of inadequacy. And Jesus has been healing my heart and flowing through me to those around me.
September is now Suicide Awareness Month and the personal story of Karen will always be on my mind this month. I am here for you. I am here to walk with you if you are facing the whispers that besiege you from the darkness. The answer is to be love. But not just me. And not just you. Jesus is love. He is all you need. He is all you ever need. He is more than enough. He is more than I can bear. I tried. I can’t bear the weight of all the burdens of those around me. But Jesus can. Whatever you are carrying give to Him, and He will give you peace. That is the only reason I’m still here today writing these words.
I also want to caution those who may know someone that this month was created for. It’s not your fault. It’s not fair for you to put that on yourself. Don’t. No matter how tempting it is. Don’t. Simply be love to others, but don’t claim their choices as your own. No matter how close you were. Not even your bestie. Live each day in love and care for one another, and let those around you know how much they mean to you. You never know what someone is carrying. You never know what someone is feeling. So ask. Genuinely ask and listen. Be vulnerable and transparent. We are all hurting and in need in this broken world. We all yearn for something more. And that more is manifested in Jesus.
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30