5 Months - A Reflection on Life and Working with Students

Today marks five months since a student in my building committed suicide, and he has been on my mind regularly over the past few weeks. His name was Matthew and he died on September 28, 2011. I didn’t know him at all, but his death changed my life.

That day was probably the most traumatic experience I have ever had. I was dizzy and lightheaded and at certain points felt like I couldn’t breathe. I did everything I could, but he had been gone too long by the time I reached him. I sat for nearly an hour in a burning hot shower, just sobbing. It was horrible. It was absolutely the most horrible day of my life.

I don’t normally talk about my faith with many people. It has become deeply personal to me and I have had a lot of struggles. But during a serious bout of depression when I was younger, I came across a verse that has been a light to me during my darkest times.

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord. ‘Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.’” ~ Jeremiah 29:11

This verse brought me through times of self-doubt, of heartbreak and disillusionment, of fear, of suicidal thoughts, of worry, of feeling worthless and hopeless. Any time I have been able to step back and remember that I have a purpose, I have made it through whatever obstacle felt insurmountable.

Like all of the other young students that began college in 2011, Matthew had a full life ahead of him. But unlike most of those other students, he felt like his life was not worth living and chose to end it. My soul aches to know that there are other students I live and work with that feel the same way. I wish with every fiber of my being that I could make a list for them of all of the things in their lives that are worth living for. I wish I could show them my battle scars and let them know someone knows how they feel. I wish I could wrap them in my arms and kiss their wounds. 

Many people wouldn’t want to deal with the possibility of student deaths in their line of work. But I found that my passion for working with students increased substantially after Matthew’s death. The reality is that I can’t fix everything (I probably can't fix most things). But I can be intentional about the work that I do, about showing students that I interact with that they are valued, and loved, and that their lives have meaning. I have a purpose, and Matthew’s passing solidified that purpose --- his death changed my life.