September is recognized as Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. I must confess, I never fully understood the significance of dedicating a month to this cause until it struck me personally. This realization dawned upon me on January 18, 2016, the day my dear friend, Jenna, took her own life.
It’s essential to clarify that I prefer to say “died by suicide,” rather than “committed suicide.” The Jenna I knew would never have “committed” such an act, leaving behind her two young children and a life brimming with potential. Describing her passing as a “commitment” is akin to suggesting someone willingly allowed a medical condition to take their life. Society often stigmatizes mental illness, dismissing those who suffer as “crazy” or “addicts,” ignoring the deeper issues at play. Jenna was a victim of her own mind, overwhelmed by a system that failed to provide the support she desperately needed.
From the moment I met Jenna at 14, she was a force to be reckoned with. Standing tall at 6’2″, her presence was undeniable. Beneath her tough exterior, however, lay a vulnerable heart. I witnessed her struggle with depression during our teenage years. In her 20s, Jenna bravely transitioned off medication, relying on meditation and yoga to cope with her symptoms.
When she welcomed her first child at 26, we discussed the risk of postpartum depression and formulated a plan should it arise. Thankfully, her first experience with motherhood was filled with joy, and those early years were some of her happiest. Our friendship deepened as we navigated the challenges of motherhood and careers together.
Five years later, Jenna had her second child, and while she radiated happiness, the shadow of postpartum depression loomed. Unfortunately, we lacked the proactive plan we had previously established. During this tumultuous time, she became distant, and I found it difficult to reach her.
One year before her tragic death, I found myself at her home, alongside others, persuading her to seek help. We knew that mentioning mental health would deter her, so we framed it as a need for rest. However, Jenna managed to convince us that her diagnosis was merely “exhaustion” and that she needed more sleep. My heart sank. She was in denial about her depression, and I felt powerless.
Almost exactly one year later, Jenna was gone. Our communication had dwindled to mere social media interactions, and I wished fervently that she had reached out. I would have rushed to support her. If only I could have told her the simple yet powerful phrase that now resonates through a nonprofit founded by a mutual acquaintance: “You matter. You matter to me, and even though things seem bleak right now, they can improve. Let me help you.”
You matter.
You matter.
You matter.
I miss you, Jenna.
If you or someone you know is struggling, please seek help. For resources, visit this helpful link. For immediate support, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline and the Crisis Text Line are available.
In conclusion, acknowledging mental health and offering support could save lives. The phrase “You matter” is not only a reminder of our worth but a lifeline for those in need.