Student Suicide

I can’t sleep because a student I worked with two years ago killed herself.

As a society we failed her.  It’s not something any one person should have done differently.  She, and her actions, are the result of a broken system that affects generations.  One of my girls is dead.

It hasn’t quite sunken in yet.  In fact, I’m holding acknowledgement at the door.  I can’t let it in —  I don’t know how.  The support system I had in place to deal with this pain is 3,000 miles away.  I want to gather with my former co-workers and embrace this notion with the people who knew her.  I want to sit with her former teachers and mentors and remember her honestly.  Not some fabricated memory because she’s gone, but the real thing. I want to think about all of those times she was a pain. I want to laugh at the thought of her goofiness.  I need to cry with acceptance and honor this new knowledge.

I want to accept. I want to deal.  I just don’t know how from 3,000 miles away.  Until I figure it out I will endure the distractions, sleepless nights, and general unrest that comes with denial.  Because I don’t know how to do anything else.

Update:  Apparently some girls told her the world would be better if she killed herself.  So she hung herself in her closet and was found 6:30 yesterday morning.

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