We have been given the opportunity to live. To breathe. To establish friendships and relationships. To explore. To wonder. To think. To speak. To simply be. We are granted one of these things they call 'life', just one. When you hear the news of someone taking and ending this precious gift, your heart breaks, your eyes swell with tears, and you simply wonder why. And then when you find out who it is, that it was a neighbor, a teammate, a friend of a friend, your heart sinks a little deeper.
January 17, 2016, marks the two year anniversary since UPenn track star, stellar student, and Northern Highlands Regional High School alum, Madison Holleran, took her life. I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news, groggy after just waking up closer to noon in my lofted bed in my freshman college dorm. The North Carolina sun was peaking through my blinds as I grabbed my phone off the top of my hutch. Naturally, I checked my texts, my emails, and all of my social media accounts. When I refreshed twitter, my eyes went wide. Varsity Aces, the northern New Jersey sports reporting account, had unleashed the news. "From Greg Schutta. Sad news out of Penn. Prayers to the Holleran family." I became frantic. I scrolled through more tweets, trying to find a story, when I eventually found the report.
The title was abrupt. "Former Northern Highlands star Madison Holleran is Dead." There was little information except the fact that this had happened, that someone who graced The Bergen Record on multiple occasions in the soccer, track, and academic limelight was gone.
I don't even remember what my first instinct was. I probably texted a few friends "holy shit did you hear about this," and received shocking messages as everyone woke that late Saturday afternoon after their prior evening's festivities. No one knew how to feel. No one knew the full details. We questioned everything - was it a car accident, was it alcohol related, was she out at school and something happened, was it a suicide? We tried piecing the tiny bits of info together, but everything was inconclusive. Then Varsity Aces struck again later that evening. Madison Holleran's death was ruled a suicide. She posted a photo of Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia, demonstrating a seemingly perfect winter evening in the city, but later left a note and gifts for her family on the top of a parking garage, where she would jump from shortly after. My heart was breaking and I didn't even personally know Holleran. I had friends and acquaintances in school who were very friendly with her or were her competitors on the field and on the track. It just didn't matter; despite the lack of personal connection, I still knew this girl was my age, from the town over from me, experiencing similar college transitions, yet her struggles overpowered her mind and she channeled these overwhelming thoughts into an irreversible action, leaving so many absolutely devastated.
This hit Bergen County like a ton of bricks, and soon enough, the story hit news sites worldwide. Everyone in my dorm was talking about the poor girl from UPenn who committed suicide, yet little did they know that same girl lived five minutes away from me. People everywhere were affected. They saw how real of an impact it caused, and how confused it left family and friends who saw nothing but perfection and fun from Holleran's instagram and facebook photos. This facade fooled us all. There was so much more pain and doubt and pressure in her head that none of us could see, and God I wish that we could have.
After this event, I looked at life a little differently. I always have made sure that I smiled and said "hi, how are you?" to people who pass me by, even if they're strangers, say hello to my friends, ask how their week has been, what they have on their plate. These little things, just friendly things, empathetic things, that make me, me. I started doing that a little more often than usual. Checking in, being that friend to people even more than I already had been. You just don't know what's running through someone's head. You don't ever know their plans, their story, or where their heart is at. Sometimes we all need a pick me up and a check-in. There is nothing wrong with that.
There is also absolutely nothing wrong with feeling overwhelmed, feeling the pressures of a college transition, feeling homesick. We have it in our power to communicate these feelings before they become too bottled up to the point they're overflowing. That's when the most damage is done, and unfortunately, sometimes that's when it becomes too late.
Two years later, we sit with heavy hearts, reflecting on the life of a promising eighteen-year old who jumped from that parking deck that night. Over the past two years there has been a foundation created in her name, an overnight walk in her honor, ESPNW became enthralled with her story and published a video titled 'Split Image,' her suicide note was revealed, along with the gifts she left, and New Jersey passed two laws that will help prevent instances like this from happening in the future. We've made a lot of progress, felt a lot of feelings, and I'm sure some have cried a lot of tears. Two years later and we're still hearing stories of suicides, and particularly college student suicides. Two years later and we still face the same problem.
For those who knew Madison, and those who did not, our hearts will always be affected by a story such as this that hit home to so many. For me, it inspires me to keep working for my Master's and Doctorate degrees so I can become the psychology professional who individuals can confide in, trust, and seek guidance from. We can take a piece of this story and carry it with us forever, advocate for change, and most importantly, keep in mind that a smile, a hello, and a how are you can never hurt. You never know what path someone is walking down so brighten someone's day and share a ray of sunshine while you can. Confide in those who care and remember that you are worth more than you will ever know.
