I Lost A Friend

Death was something that I was never familiar with. The idea of it is still something I can't fully comprehend. I guess it's kind of different when someone of old age dies.. it's kind of expected, you know? Granted, I'm sure it doesn't hurt any less, but here's what I can't get through my head:

"How the hell does someone so young, so outspoken, so alive

Just disappear?"

The first time I had ever experienced death was my great grandfather's funeral. I had been around him a few times, saw him during the holidays, would occasionally sneak a couple of his snacks before sneaking onto his ancient computer to play a few games on his POGO account. I remember him trying to teach me how to play piano. At that age, I didn't have the patience to just sit and watch him hit a couple keys and tell me that was a A Minor chord.

I remember when he first got sick, it didn't really hit me like it should have. I was maybe six years old at the time and I don't know whether it was the fact that I wasn't close with him, the fact that he seemed to always be annoyed with me anytime my parents and I visited (I don't blame him one bit), or the fact that he was just old. I don't really remember his service, but I remember seeing everyone around me cry. I recall thinking to myself, "why is everyone so upset?". He was in pain, he was in the hospital, and he was old!

Since then, obviously my perspective on death and life in general has dramatically changed, I mean c'mon I was a kid at the time, I didn't know any better. I took everything for granted. Who didn't at that age? However, although my mindset changed, I still wasn't entirely familiar with the concept of losing someone who I was close to.

When I was in middle school, I remember I used to think the worst if my dad didn't answer the phone the first time I tried calling. I think if anything, I familiarized myself with the idea of fearing death itself and the idea that someone close to me could be gone at any minute.

During the same time, I had heard multiple stories from friends about their family members passing so suddenly. I heard stories about car accidents, stories about murder, stories about disease, and stories about suicide. I couldn't do anything but sympathize with them. I had no idea what kind of pain they were going through. I tried so hard to put myself in their shoes, but even then still, I couldn't imagine the pain, the heartbreak, and the confusion they were feeling. All of it was foreign to me. Especially the concept of suicide. I thought to myself:

"How could someone take their own life knowing that so many people cared about them?"

A few years later, I began experiencing depression and anxiety. I felt lost in my own head. I felt like I was in the middle of an ocean of people, trying to find myself and answers as to why I was feeling this way. When I was younger, my parents had never brought up the conversation of mental health and how important it is to create a safe space for yourself. They never taught me that it's okay to speak about your emotions when you aren't feeling okay. They never taught me that feeling this emotions and thinking these thoughts didn't make me some psychopath who needed to be admitted to a mental institution. All I had known to do, was suppress everything. That's when found the answer to my twelve-year old self's question:

When it feels like you are on your own, when it feels like you have nothing to live for, and when it feels like nobody in the world can understand what you're going through, it really does began to feel like you're alone. It feels as though if you were to disappear, nobody would care. Why should they? They can continue to live without you, right?

The concept of suicide became more and more familiar the older I got. Through stories of others and events I had experienced on my own. However, the concept of death was still something I hadn't directly experienced until 2019.

2019 was easily the most confusing, difficult, and weirdest year of my life. It was the year I was scheduled to graduate high school, I was turning 18, and it was the imaginary deadline for so many expectations I had held for myself (moving, starting college, getting a new job, etc.). I distinctly remember that it was my last day of actual school before graduation and all of the seniors were supposed to get our grade checks and officially "check out" of our school.

The night before, I had heard that a close friend of mine that I had literally spent every day with in 2018, went missing. Nobody could find her and she was feeling suicidal. I blew it off like it was nothing, telling everyone who was worried that I was sure she was fine and that she would turn up later in the day.

I got a text while waiting in line to sign off some paperwork. Nothing in the world could prepare me for what I was about to see, what I was about to feel.

"I'm sorry, but she's gone.."

I remember being so in shock that I felt nothing. I remember signing off papers, walking down the hall, getting home and just breaking down. Everything felt surreal. The air in my lungs felt artificial. The ground I was walking on didn't feel organic. Reality didn't feel real.

I found myself scrolling through her social media profiles for someone or even herself to say that this was some kind of sick joke, that she didn't actually commit suicide. That she was just off somewhere by herself because she just needed to clear her head. All I found were comments on her most recent photos saying: "RIP", "We love you", "You will be missed". What the fuck.

Six days later, I graduated. All I could think about was how she and I were in the same building rooting for our friend who graduated the year prior. We had talked about how we were going to go all out for my graduation when the day came. The day came, and the night of my graduation was the same night as her viewing.

One day after that, it was my 18th birthday and my friend's funeral. My pessimistic self couldn't help but no longer see my birthday as my birthday, but rather my birthday as a painful reminder that death was no longer foreign. It was the first time I finally understood loss. I finally understood the pain, the heartbreak, and the confusion that follows.

The grief didn't really set until a few months after. I was so wrapped up in forcing myself to be happy because I just graduated and it was my birthday. I felt like I had to be okay for the sake of others. So when the time came where everything started to really set in, I drowned my feelings and my thoughts in drugs and alcohol every single day. I didn't want to feel vulnerable around others or to the emotions I felt like I wasn't ready to handle. I blinded myself from seeing that I was clearly falling down a hole that would take me months to get out of. I was so deep in a state of denial that the drinking and the substance abuse wasn't an issue. I never saw it as a coping mechanism, a way to escape reality, but merely just a good time.

My friends had told me that she wouldn't have wanted me to be sad. She wouldn't have wanted me to be slowly ruining my life because of her decision to leave. I loathed the words that fell from their mouths. Who were they to tell me how to grieve? Who were they to know what she had wanted and didn't want?

"You don't get what I'm going through." I remember telling them. "I don't need your advice and I never asked for it."

Memories of her constantly flooded my mind while they simultaneously felt like they were starting to fade. I couldn't decipher whether or not I was genuinely forgetting her or if the drugs were fogging up my head. I searched everywhere for a sign of closure. Something to tell me or show me that she was okay, but nothing came. I was left still confused with nothing but a bottle of anything I could get my hands on to keep my mind occupied for the night.

The year went on and more unfortunate things started to happen; as well as good things but again, being the pessimist I am, they didn't outweigh the bad. I continued to drink, I continued to use drugs, and I continued to fill the hurt inside me as if I weren't hurting at all. Until one night, I was out with a friend eating out at an ungodly hour, after drinking way too much. I remember thinking I needed a change or, physically, I would collapse. So that night, I vowed to make a change. Not only to better myself, but for her. t was the least that I could do for her. I'm not exactly sure what it was about that Denny's at 3am that made me want to change. Maybe it was the hallucinations from not sleeping or eating much, mixed with copious amounts of alcohol in my system? Or maybe it was the unrecognizable face that stared back at me in mirror.

"Who was I becoming? Maybe she doesn't want me to be like this? Maybe, I don't want to be like this.."

From that day on, I vowed to change myself for the better, for her, and because I finally started to recognize that I was out of control. I began seeing a therapist and tried to surround myself around people who cared for me and wanted to see me change for the better. The beginning steps of the process were hard...It was hard to open up to someone, let alone someone who I had just met, didn't know much about me, and I was telling them information that I couldn't even muster up the courage to tell my loved ones or those who have known me for years. But, I knew it was for the better.

When I found out about her passing, my mental health wasn't at the top of my priority list. After coming to terms with everything and going through the steps of grief, I started to prioritize my own health and the mental health of others. After her passing, I realized that it is impossible to know what is going through someone's mind. They can be the happiest, most outgoing person you know, but deep down inside they can be battling with so many overwhelming emotions, that they don't know how to deal with or express them to others. With this idea constantly in the back of my mind, I became more actively aware of the mental health of myself and others.

The stigma that mental health isn't as important as physical health is, is now irrelevant to me. If anything, I think that mental health is as equal, if not in some cases, more important than physical health. It is important to remember that mental health issues that affect an individual is not their fault, and is something they can't entirely control. It is important to create a safe space for those who are known to struggle with their mental health.

It has now been 9 months since her passing. There are good days where my mind is filled with good memories and I remember the long nights we shared together with our group of friends. How we would go on midday adventures when I was supposed to be in my U.S. History class. How we would spend endless nights just talking about life in her car.

There are bad days where I count how many months she's been gone. It's like I can picture her funeral service all over again. It's like re-watching her casket being lowered into the ground. It's a like constant reminder that I will never see her again except only in the form of a jpeg. or an mp4. file. And those days, are the worst.

This is just a reminder that this article is not to point blame at people who struggle with mental health. This article was not published for pity. This article was published to share my story and voice my concern for those who are struggling or those who have or are currently experiencing loss/grief. I can easily say with great confidence, that this process is not easy. I never in my life would have thought that I would've have ever lost a loved one to suicide.

If you know someone who is struggling, talk to them. Offer resources for them to go to for help. Help them find interests in the world or network to find others. Ultimately it is up to them whether or not they want help, but please EDUCATE yourself on their situation or what they are going through.

If you are struggling, please know that you are not alone. It may feel like nobody cares about you, but I promise you, you are affecting so many more people than you think. You are jeopardizing your chances at an amazing life filled with so many memories that can most definitely outweigh the heaviest weight that you feel on your shoulders. Life is worth living when you surround yourself with helpful reminders that you are important, you have a purpose, and you deserve to live.