My cousin attempted suicide this weekend. I can't really remember what it was like being 15, but I never stressed out that much. I've had good friends do the final deed for some pretty lame reasons, the most common being a bad breakup. When I look back, I just think what a waste of talent and personality, because every one of them was smart and talented and eclectic in some way. They didn't fit in, necessarily. But, I tend to get along with misfits, so I may have a disproportionate number of acquaintances who are bipolar or have unbalanced brain chemistry. Some of them self-treated by abusing drugs, which escalated their problems. I can only hope that whatever the burden or shame that caused K.S. to even consider such an option, she can learn to deal with it or eliminate it from her life and move on. She *is* lucky. I want her to know that she has a very loving extended family who would more than gladly take her call and help her navigate her problems.
By the time I was 15, I had been forced in school to read The Crucible by Arthur Miller. That story is chock full of people doing extraordinary things under the duress of overblown problems to preserve their own butts or save the lives of others. It shows the absurd evil of participating in your own demise or the demise of others. Believe it or not, there's always someone who needs you or will need you. I've always looked to people who have weathered worse problems than myself (i.e. Job), and decided that life is never THAT bad. I can't imagine a level of pain which would cause me to not want to keep going. I've never reached that threshold and hope not to. I'm supremely sad for those who have and didn't get a second chance.
Remind your family members that you love them, because we almost lost one.
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