Hanging On, Whilst Desperate To Let Go
Sometimes, moments stay with you. Unexpected, brief moments perhaps, but they stay in your mind, being reviewed, replayed, over and over again. I saw something last week. A situation that has been on a loop in my head every since.
A young girl, a teenager.
Stood on a bridge, ready to jump.
I drove past and saw the emergency services with her. She was being helped.
But it worried me and I felt emotional and, lets be honest, a little useless that I was unable to do something, anything, to help. Sure, I am passionate about mental health and the terrifyingly high rate of suicide in the UK. I have taken part in events before that were powerful and uplifting, and met wonderful, impressive people that are all making a difference. But something so raw and real like this got into my head.
I have been thinking about the girl all week. And, in an attempt to deal with my unexpected thoughts, wanted to find a few words to do her and the situation justice.
It broke my heart, it really did, to see her there, like that.
Just a young girl, hanging on, whilst desperate to let go. Hanging on, in touching distance of traffic and people, rushing, rushing, always rushing. Such busy lives, with places to be, money to make and dinners to cook.
All oblivious to her, just a person, an inconvenience in their journeys home.
Whilst she tried to end a life less perfect than theirs.
But I saw her.
And I hope she is safe.
I hope that those who were with her helped, on the bridge, talking, caring, telling her that there is another way, that there is always another way.
I hope that she got the chance to talk. Because we all need to talk. Especially when the conversations in our head become unkind or confused or start to feel scary. When we think that maybe, just maybe, we need to find a way out, a way to stop the incessant pain and anguish.
I can’t unsee that moment.
And if I am being honest, I don’t think I want to.
Because somehow, and for whatever reason, I feel a need to acknowledge that I saw her, from the window of my car.
I tried to imagine what she might be thinking. I imagined what kind of confusion and fear might drive someone to be in a place like that. How it might feel to be so scared and desperate that they just wanted it all to stop.
I thought about her a lot, since that moment on the bridge.
And it broke my heart.