Before starting this, I want to warn you all that there is some upsetting content in this article and to approach with discretion. I do feel that every component is necessary, however; for my readers to understand the full impact involved in this story. I also want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read my work and continues to support me, I usually have more of a lighthearted approach to my writing but I felt an obligation to share this after a recent experience. Thank you.
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I wake up and get ready to commute to the halls of Stockton University in Galloway, New Jersey to attend my classes.
Along the way I see many signs expressing opportunities to join extracurricular activities, clubs, and other exciting events. Stockton is a wonderful and diverse school that I have been more than grateful to be a part of. Many of these times I walk swiftly in a hurry to get a good seat in my next class. If I have time to be leisurely, I'll take a peek at what activities are going on; if there's something extensively attention grabbing or entertaining, I'll always at least slow down.
Today, I found myself at a dead halt in my tracks for a sign that made my heart stop.
“If you're looking for a sign NOT to kill yourself this is it."
I knew it too well.
I gulped down my previous breath as my stomach tightened, and I took a deep calming exhale from my diaphragm, reminding myself that Spread the Love Foundation-- a suicide awareness foundation by which this was the slogan for-- has been impacting schools heavily around Atlantic County and spreading like wildfire. This was a great thing, extraordinary if anything. Yet, I remembered that as close as this cause had been to me, my involvement had been very limited. I felt a pang of guilt sweeping across my body. I comforted myself. It is okay Lex, you have your reasons. I saw three more of these signs as I walked closer to F-Wing. This was an extremely positive thing, so why was I feeling like I was in a nightmare?
Like many people, I easily become consumed in my thoughts. Admittedly, I am a very emotional person despite the tougher exterior image I try to uphold. After years of self exploration, I decided about a year ago it was a better route for me to try and stay away from the things that hurt me. And so, after my best friend committed suicide, that is exactly what I learned to do.
Sami was many people’s favorite person. She was a character; full of goofy nature and endless pranks. You knew if you were going into public with her she was going to embarrass you and make a scene or get you both in trouble. She would spit drinks out of her mouth to laugh, pee her pants, twerk, approach strangers, and make the ugliest faces giving them names like “rat face”. She was a cheerleader, a part of theatre, and well-known around her community. She loved children; working at a daycare, with children with special needs, and avidly speaking of her many future kids. "At least six, and they'll all be singers" she would say. She had a cute lisp and beautiful blonde silky hair down to her butt. Sami got sick and broke bones like it was her job, however; she would be the one defying the doctors orders and dancing on her crutches anyways. At an amusement park she would get on the terrifying ride that most people only got on as a dare voluntarily. If you met her, you wanted her around as much as possible. Her presence was addicting, she was guaranteed laughter, fun, and life
She was not my “cousin” by blood but to our family and everyone whom we introduced ourselves to we were, via our Dads being lifetime friends. No one was allowed to call Sami and me “friends” and if they did they would be scolded and corrected. To each other, we were sisters and soulmates! Being around her broke me out of my shell. Knowing how funny she was, I would be eager to introduce her to everyone i knew. We were the same age. Sami attended Oakcrest high school while I attended Egg Harbor Township high school and we lived about two minutes away from each other right down the road at the cut-off between Mayslanding and EHT. This was a good dill(aka “deal”--yes we had our own lingo) while growing up because it meant double the friends and events to go to. It also meant we could stick up for each other against bullies and crappy friends, constant sleepovers, introducing each other to boys, and just being able to take a freaking break from the confusing and awkward time that was the transition between adolescence and adulthood. Her mom worked a lot so we spent Christmases and summers together making tons of home movies that she would star in and I would direct. I always describe her as “my childhood” because we acted like children when we were around each other, even when we were becoming adults, and that was the best part about our time together.
Everyone has that person that is your person. The one who knows everything about you and all your secrets, that shows up to your house unannounced with no problem--sometimes when you’re not even there, that you cry with, get punished with, encourage to follow their dreams, and refer to your futures together. Our kids better be as close as us! and looking at old people in public saying, Can you believe that will be us one day? It seemed so guaranteed. Yes, she was my person. “You would love her”, I’d tell everyone. And I hated when that turned into, “You would have loved her.”
Despite unavoidably thinking about this every day, I tried to distract myself from my thoughts. If Sami was brought up, I would do my best to change the subject. When a post was made on the internet about her, I would scroll by. I would get on YouTube and be unable to play our movies. When my aunt or uncle's (Sami's parents) names would come up on my phone it would take me a while to build up the courage to open the message. I avoided everything I could without being blatantly rude. While some of Sami's friends would be present to each and every gathering they had to reflect on her life, I would keep my distance at times and this produced a lot of guilt that I wasn't quite sure whether I should have or not. It scared me to relapse back to the person I was before I built my protective walls.
I still joke to my friends about the year previous, "Remember when I went crazy?". They only partially know how true this statement was. I wasn't always able to drown things out, for about a year I made Sami's death my life.
August 14th, 2014. I remember the day she died vividly. That night at about 3 AM Sami texted me asking me to come to pick her up and after answering firstly, I fell asleep. I had no idea this was going to be the last time I was going to be speaking to her, I was sleepily oblivious to the distress in her text, and that was a regret of mine that I would have to live with. The following morning, her sister called asking me to ask my father to come to the hospital right away and panic struck my whole body. I called myself out of work and shook profusely the whole way to AtlantiCare Regional Medical Center. Was she in a car accident? Is she in a coma? I thought I was thinking the worst--I wasn’t.
“I’m here to see Samantha Coburn.” I was waiting for the nurse’s facial expression to indicate the issue but she directed me to a room straight-faced. Where is my dad? Why was no one waiting? I felt like I was in a dream as I passed a corridor with large windows, I peered at the street below and recognized my cousins close friends, they were sobbing, and my heart began pounding. It can't be. I lost the feeling in my fingertips. Still, I walked further. It was not hitting me. Nothing was communicated verbally, but it was when I saw her mother leaving the room that I was about to enter, being supported to walk by doctors--her face expressionless, eyes dead, emotionless; like she had watched her heart be ripped out from right out in front of her-- that my knees gave out and I dropped on the floor releasing a blood-curdling scream. I knew. I hyperventilated and wept right on the ground. You don't think about what you look like, what you're doing, or if there is tears and snot all over your face and clothes at a moment like this. All you can think of is all of the memories that have now led to this and the situation at hand. She's dead. She's dead. She's gone forever.
She had hung herself. My once full-of-life Sami was on life support and I was now being given the option to say goodbye. But how does one say goodbye? I thought. I could not stop asking God why. I could not comprehend how I was supposed to come up with the last words I would ever say to my cousin in retrospect to the last 19 years spent together, or why this was happening. I approached what appeared to be my cousin on the white hospital bed. Her eyes were closed but the oxygen tank had her appearing to still be breathing, this was decieving, at first it gave me false hope. I knew she was not there anymore though, not the girl who I knew. Her lips puffy and skin pale; she had lost too much oxygen to her brain by the time she was found.
“I love you, I’m so sorry”, was all I could articulate as I kissed her cheek and held on to her cold, rough, and familiar hands for the very last time.
I cried every night for months following. It was anguishing to come to terms with the fact that she was not coming back. It was anguishing to think of the pain that her parents and sister were going through. Life had changed permanently. I became obsessive of people’s sadness. If a person shared a sad statement on a social media I would become racked with anxiety and quickly message them to let them know I was there if they needed to talk. This was my way of avoiding my own problems. I refused to talk with my mom, my friends. How could they understand this, they do not know her like I know her. I refused counseling, despite even my aunt’s request. I watched videos of us and listened to her voice and our songs repetitively. I drank and I smoked in attempts forget about reality. All of these things inadvertently caused me much more damage than it did help.
I was spiraling straight down, and feeling like there was no direction up. I went through periods of time where I would be angry; furious. I began to feel like I could not trust anyone. I believed my purpose was lost. At times, I blamed myself for not texting her back. How could I go on without the one person who understood me more than anyone else? How could you do this to me, your family? My thoughts taunted me. In my single-occupant dorm room about two hours from home over at Montclair State University, my first college, I was feeling the direct effects of depression hard. My first semester I had been on the dean’s list, this time around I did not have the energy to care. I had skipped classes and nearly failed others. I did not know many people since I was not from the area, leaving me feeling very alone.
I was positive that no one around me knew about one of the most defining things to ever happen to me, and so; they could never possibly understand me. In reality I was pushing everyone away. In fear of upsetting anyone, I would lie about how I was actually feeling; which was that the best part of my day was getting to sleep and the worst part was waking up. I fondly remember drives home where I would be on the parkway for hours contemplating what would happen if I was to veer off, but decided I would probably just end up debilitated on earth, and that would be even worse. I felt frustrated at the giant void inside of my body. I was going through a real-life hell that seemed to have no relief, and I was handling this situation in all of the wrong ways. I saw all the pain Sami’s death had caused to her family and friends, and I knew it would be too selfish for me to do the same. It made life feel like a curse, I did not want to be around anymore. Looking at the mirror, I would stare at my face. I did not recognize who I was seeing. All components of my life looked different, and I was sure there was no bouncing back.
I was wrong.
I always tell my friends when they are having a very low moment, because we all do, that the first thing they need in their life is to make a change. For my fourth semester of college, after barely getting through the third, I decided to move back home and commute at Stockton. Being back home did not solve all problems but being around my family rather than alone all the time made a profound difference. My family could tell I was still not myself and they wanted me to do something even bigger, so I took off the following semester with hesitation and made the bold move to go to Florida for the very first time, move in with strangers, and be a part of the Disney College Program in Orlando for 6 months. What better place to find happiness than the happiest place on earth, right? Taking the chance, I ended up meeting my best friends who I still contact regularly and had, possibly, the most fun semester of my life (Four of whom came all the way from New York, Alabama, and California to visit for my last birthday!) I am eternally grateful for my parents for pushing me to focus on my happiness, and the great people I met that showed me all the life I was missing out on.
What I learned the hard way is that isolation is not the answer. I wanted to be alone when I needed to force myself to be around people. I wanted to talk to someone but I couldn’t bring myself to ask for help, I wanted to believe I was tough enough to deal with everything on my own--this is not the answer. No matter what it may be, your life is more precious than your pride. Accept the immense amount of love that will be offered to you when you can admit you are struggling. People care. And most importantly, time and open mindedness will heal even the worst of wounds; mentally or physically.
I am not going to be an advocate for taking a break from school, or a job; but I am going tell you the advice I would give anyone who I love, that was given to me by my own mother: Your health is the MOST important priority that you have as a human being and if you do not succumb to this; you will not be able to achieve the goals you want to achieve. If this means taking a break, then I do advise that.
For a while my life was only about living so I did not hurt others, or so I did not put shame to Sami’s death. I am happy to say my life is now about my desire to live, my drive to achieve, and the excitement of the future; something that everyone deserves to have. It is not perfect, but I know I have overcome my worst, and reminding myself of this makes me strong. You can overcome anything.
For many years I kept to myself about my story as a suicide survivor, but today I bumped into a sign that took my breath away.
“If you're looking for a sign NOT to kill yourself this is it."
This is it.
And today was my time to come to terms with all of the things I had been repressing for so long.
As I walked the hallway once again out of the hall of F-Wing, I stopped once again and thought about how far my life has come since my toughest days. I thought about all the amazing moments I could have potentially missed out on. I thought about the goals that I have so far accomplished. I thought about all of the people’s lives that have been impacted thanks to to the memory of my cousin Sami, whose mother and sister started the Spread the Love Foundation; the signs now all over my second college. Then I smiled.
To anyone struggling I want you to know there is a light, and many moments of happiness still to come.
Keep going.
For more information please visit spreadthelovefoundation.com
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