At the Railing

This has been a rough week for the BYU community. On Monday morning during classes a 19 year old student committed suicide by throwing herself over an in-door railing on the fourth floor of the business building. I know next to nothing about this student (I recently learned she was Native American and Polynesian). The fact that she was at BYU means that she was an above average student in high school and that she lived a religious life. What brought her to the railing may never be known. Perhaps it was depression or poor performance on an exam. Perhaps it was unacceptance due to differences of skin color or sexual orientation. Perhaps it was loneliness or a loss of love. Perhaps it was a feeling that she would never measure up to the high expectations of being a BYU student or a Mormon. Sadly, whatever the reasons, at that fateful moment she felt life was no longer worth living.  

When I attended BYU (1980-83) for my master’s degree in International Relations, I never had such moments of despair. My most troubling times revolved around trying to maintain my B+ average in Arabic, trying to find someone to date, and dealing with eight roommates, some of whom had no idea how to wash dishes and others who liked to pilfer my cereal late at night. Suicide was something that I seldom heard about (especially at BYU) and something I never ever considered. 

For the past 26 years I have been a geography professor at BYU. During that time I married, had three children, served as a bishop, and taught at the BYU Jerusalem Center. Three and a half years ago I spent my semester-long sabbatical teaching on Semester at Sea. For four months our family sailed (on a cruise ship masquerading as a floating campus) from California to England via stops in ten countries in Asia and Africa. I blogged about the experience as a photo journal for our family and for grandparents and other family members and friends to enjoy. From a digital distance it looked like a wonderful, happy adventure. It was indeed, but it also had its unseen, un-posted dark side. 

In the few years leading up to Semester at Sea, my life was thrown some troubling and unforeseen “curve balls”. Foundational faith and hope began to falter. Things that were once certain were no longer certain. As we sailed around the world, despair started to sink in. My future no longer seemed bright. At night after the kids were in bed I would walk the deck, seeking answers, seeking solace. Some nights, in the middle of the Pacific, Indian and Atlantic Oceans, I would lean on the fifth deck railing looking down at the black sea thinking the unthinkable—that my insurmountable woes would disappear if I jumped. 

 self portrait at the railing

I didn’t jump, but I certainly considered it. I wanted relief, but I knew that my relief would leave sadness and hurt in its wake. Love and support from family and friends have helped me hold on. Suicidal thoughts still pop up now and again, but I choose to focus on seeking fulfillment and joy in this life no matter how fleeting it all might seem at the present. 

To anyone who might be standing at a railing thinking life is too hard, please know that there are many people out there who are willing to listen, accept, help and love. You may not know it, but they too may have had similar thoughts to yours. It may be hard, but please call or text a hotline, or talk to a counselor, a supportive sibling or parent, a roommate or spouse, or a far off friend you haven’t seen for a long time. Or if you are a BYU student drop by my office (674 KMBL) or the office of any of your professors and tell us that you are hurting. We will listen. We will help. We will be lenient. We might even share a box of Kleenex to wipe away any tears. And in my case, I will tell you of times when I stood in despair at a railing and chose to continue living. I will tell you that some of the hurt may never go away, but it does get better. Hold on to the railing, hold on to life.

Tanner Building from a distance.

Student inspired memorial in the Tanner Building.