Loss, as a concept, is something that I, as a human being, have become accustomed to. Recently, I came across this familiar specter again when I heard news of a suicide at my high school.

"Another one?" I thought to myself.

I didn't feel anything. I read the text, shook my head, and stared at my screen for a bit. But then, in that moment, I just realized that suicide—of all of the things in this massive universe we call home—had become normalized to me. Normalized, as if this was something to be expected every year; but, the thing is, I had been expecting it. Every single year has seen one or two in my time spent at Helena High School, and I never considered otherwise. I haven't seen a year without one, and doubt I will until I abandon the place from my memory.

If someone had been in my room with me in that moment, I would have told them to punch me. I felt disgusting for dehumanizing a person who has suffered greatly in her life, something I never possibly considered myself doing as a person who is deeply connected with my emotions.

Then, upon this realization, I allowed myself to mourn. That was what was stopping me.

When it comes to such a tragedy, especially when considering its significant presence in my life, I was bound to get used to it at some point. It's the brain's form of acclimation, and I had allowed myself to grow indifferent in my reactions. As much as I wanted to feel the pain of my entire community who would be enduring this tragedy for much time to come, I didn't want to feel it. That kind of emotional pain was something no one should have to experience once, let alone seven times, as we had endured. And so, by the time the most recent suicide occurred, I wanted to avoid it. I wanted to deny it and preserve my optimistic outlook on the state of affairs within my community when I knew that nothing was exactly peachy-keen in our midst.

That is what I want to impart to whoever may be reading this. I have worked directly with others in the fight to end suicide within Montana, and even I managed to fall into the very traps that allow people to take their lives without interference. Please, do not allow this tragedy to be swept under the rug. We need to mourn as a community and feel this pain and anguish and misery together. That is the only way we can begin to address this problem directly at its roots and intervene with those who may be considering suicide. I have gone through training to see the signs in people who may be contemplating suicide, though you do not need training to do so.

For many people like me, seeing signs in others comes from feeling them yourself.

I implore those who are in the Helena community to not allow yourselves to forget what this feels like. Remember how it feels to lose a friend, a classmate, even a child. Remember the bitter tears and mournful cries that can be heard on days like these. Because then you will have the motivation to discuss it. I know, more than most, how difficult it can be to start the conversation about suicide with someone. But, I can assure you, if you do so, you will make the biggest difference in their life. I felt alone when I longed to take my own life, but I was lucky in that I managed to convince myself. Not everyone will do so. And, in the end, they will thank you for it, even if they say otherwise.

Familiarize yourself with your local suicide hotlines and resources, you never know when you'll need them.

And for those who are considering suicide, know that you are loved. Reach out and find someone you know will guide you along the path to overcoming the darkness in your mind.