I remembered this story today and wanted to share it, because there's an important parenting lesson in here.
In 7th grade, a new girl joined our school. She didn't quite fit in - and I'm assuming she hadn't at her previous school either, hence the move - but it was a small school and we were all friendly, and although we weren't "besties" we did become pretty good friends. One day in art class she told me she wanted to hurt herself or kill herself (I can't remember exactly). Somehow I was able to keep my composure and tell her she really didn't want to do that, but without freaking out at her the way I was freaking out inside. First chance I could slip away, I went and told my teacher privately. The girl did wind up in a psychiatric hospital for treatment, I believe, and she actually didn't finish out the year at our school. She for sure wasn't back for 8th grade.
As a 13-year-old I could have easily brushed it off as a joke, not taken her seriously, or been too scared to tell anyone else. And who knows if she would have gone through with anything? But something in my upbringing told me better safe than sorry, I must take her seriously and get help ASAP. I seem to remember she got angry with me for breaking her confidence.
It's important that our kids know that even if someone gets angry with us for doing the right thing, that doesn't excuse us from doing the right thing.
It took me hours today to remember her name, and now that I have I can't find her on FB or Google. I sincerely hope that's simply a matter of little internet presence or a name change due to marriage, but it also haunts me that I'd almost forgotten about her entirely and I don't know what the end of her story was. Did I listen in time? Was she so depressed by the time she said anything to me that she could never quite dig herself out of that hole? Or did she find a light in her life, the light that was already shining bright inside of her but that she couldn't see?
T.A., there's no way you're reading this, but I'm thinking of you today...
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