A student on campus passed away Nov. 4, and it has affected the campus community deeply in the few short hours since the news has spread. It has affected me deeply since I first heard the news.
I have worked in Higher Education and Student Affairs as a paraprofessional and a professional for seven years now, and in that time, I have lost two of my students to suicide. If you've watched the news lately, you will know that a shocking number of students have taken their lives because of bullying and feeling like they don't belong. One life lost is one too many, and it has left me wondering, What can I do? So I wandered over to Galbreath Chapel to seek some answers.
I'm not one to discuss faith and religion publicly; in fact, I'm really turned off by those who do. But I feel the need to offer a little background in order for this to make sense. I come from a Quaker tradition where we worship by sitting in silence, clearing our minds and waiting for that still small voice (1 Kings 19:12) to come through and give some guidance.
When I sat down in the chapel, I was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions while I remembered my previous grief from losing students, knowing what the student's family and friends must be going though today - just by seeing the way students were impacted by the student's recent death. A young man sat in the corner of the church, sobbing, and I was overcome by a wave of emotion. I asked both God (or whatever higher power you choose) and myself, Why? What can we do?
The tears came. The anger came. The sadness came ... and then it was silent. And in the stillness, I was finally able to hear that small voice. In an instant, the clouds broke apart and light literally came flooding through the chapel windows ... and in that same moment, Ohio University's alma mater began to ring loud and clear from the bells over Cutler Hall. The small voice came through and said, Love and Community.
Love and Community
In a culture of individualism, where we are taught that it is every man or woman for himself or herself, it can be easy to feel alone. In a culture where people are able to spew venom publicly and privately about a person's race, religion, ethnicity or sexual orientation, it can be easy to feel like you don't belong. It can be easy to feel like you are unwanted and unloved. It can be easy to lose hope.
Please believe me when I say there is a place for you, that you do belong.
Whether it is a class, a club, a fraternity/sorority, a place of worship, a small group of friends or in someone's arms at the end of a hard day: There is a place for you. You may not have found that place yet, but we are here to help you find it. Please don't hesitate to come see me if you are feeling lost; I'm here to try and help you find your way.
Please believe me when I say that you are beautiful the way you are.
Sometimes the cruel words of the media and ignorant people in your daily life can drown out the good. The angriest people are often the loudest. Please look around and see that more of us are here to support you than those who appear to be against you. The color of your skin, your religious beliefs, your sexual orientation ... all these things make you beautiful and unique, and I cherish you for them.
Please believe me when I say that you are loved.
I know that you are loved and make a difference in the lives of others because I have seen the proof.
I have attended several students' memorial services over the years, and none are more heartbreaking for me than the ones where the student took their own life. The service starts with the typical tears and grieving, but there always comes a point where people begin sharing the happy memories they have of the person who passed on - the funny stories, the inside jokes, the positive impact the deceased made on their lives just by being who they were.
It's heartbreaking for me to think that when these people were in their darkest hour, they never might have known they made this impact. That they belonged to someone. That someone loved them. That someone cared. Even though the students are gone, I hope they are able to look down and see the impact they made on others.
Please believe me when I say that someone cares.
If you are hurting, tell someone. We are here to listen. We want to listen. If you are not comfortable going to someone you know, please call an anonymous helpline such as 1-800-SUICIDE. Please ask for help. Please.
Please believe me when I say that there is hope.
When everything is crashing down around you, it can be easy to think that it will never get better. I know it sounds cliché, but it does get better. It can take days, weeks, months, maybe even years - but it does get better.
So the question remains: What can we (friends, loved ones, educators) do? How can this be prevented?
It can be prevented by showing love and creating an inclusive community.
Refrain from using racist/sexist/homophobic language, name-calling and bullying.
While you may intend it as a joke, words do hurt and can cause lasting damage.
Listen.
Show compassion.
Be kind.
Treat everyone you meet with dignity and respect.
While we may not always see eye-to-eye with everyone, we all deserve to be treated with respect. Agree to disagree, but don't put people down because of who they are or what they believe.
You may never know what is going on beneath the surface. Some of our students and peers are fighting hard battles with mental illness or struggling through dark times. One act of kindness may save their life. One act of kindness may redeem their faith in the world. One act of kindness may help them realize that life is still worth living.
Remember to smile, offer your hand, and show them a way out.
Sarah Everette is the residential director
of Tiffin Hall.
4 Opinion
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