- Mental Health
My college days were probably like a lot of others, with late nights spent cramming for tests, hanging out with friends and going to parties. At one of those parties, I met Dave, who I started dating very soon after. He was tall, handsome and blond and he had a beautiful smile.
After we had dated a while, I realized that Dave had some problems. It wasn’t just the obvious desire to smoke pot all the time but it went a little deeper. Looking back on it now, he was depressed. I remember that he always talked about how he wasn’t ever good enough for his dad, who was an MIT valedictorian. He had a terrible family life but never really went into it. All I know is that everything had to do with money and that’s all they ever cared about. I wish I had been strong enough to help him get help, but I also didn’t realize that it was as bad as it was.
We ended up breaking up because I moved to another college. A month later, I got a phone call from a friend telling me that Dave had killed himself. That has been and hopefully will be the worst call I will ever get in my life. That was such a devastating blow. I constantly wondered if I could have done something that I didn’t do and wondered what I should have done differently.
After that, I made it a point to make sure that if I ever met anyone who I thought needed help, I would reach out and help. I try to give people encouragement and be friendly because you never know when one word could change someone’s life. I have also realized that, more often than not, drug use is a short-term salve for underlying issues. It may seem like it’s just a phase but it probably isn’t.
It’s difficult to look back and think about Dave’s life and wonder if maybe something could have been done. All I can do now is to use that experience to help others.