Article May 7, 2007 Issue

DON'T COMMIT SUICIDE learn to live joyfully

BY SUSAN RYNERSON

IT WAS MY JUNIOR YEAR of college, and I'd hit bottom. I sat on the floor in the middle of my room, crying and depressed. I seriously contemplated suicide. Suicidal thoughts had come before, but this time I was drowning in all the vicious reasons why I should go ahead and do it.

How surprised people would be if they knew how I felt. On the surface, I was successful in so many ways—academically, athletically, musically. I supposedly had many reasons to be happy. And on the surface, I was. People were used to seeing my smiling face. Yet, I really felt empty and mechanical. I was drained of vitality and feeling.

The collegiate habit of talking with friends about our mammoth lists of tasks had provided more burden than comfort. A swirling list of unresolved problems—a past relationship gone bad, a severe injury that had recently taken away my ability to play sports, and a demanding college course load—made for an unhappy mix. Plus, it didn't seem as though anyone understood who I really was. I thought maybe they'd appreciate me more when I was gone. All these things together led to an emotional impulsion toward suicide, which felt hypnotic and overwhelming.

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