Meena M.
Photograph Courtesy of Meena M.
Please note: In this letter, Meena writes about her experience with loss and the topic of suicide. If you feel this content may be triggering for you, we encourage you to take a pause and access any resources you may need. If this letter is not right for you at this time, we invite you to read a different letter on IfYoureReadingThis.org. As always, take care.
If you’re reading this, do what makes you feel most alive.
“Why do we people jump off cliffs?” I asked.
The stillness of the meditation room stilled my mind as my mindfulness instructor, Doug Worthen, and I reflected after our 25 minutes of meditation and silence.
“We do what makes us feel most alive,” he told me.
I wondered about the times I had felt most alive. Sunny summers with melting icy blue icicle pops. Climbing trees, playing family, and running around and around our cul de sac with the kids across the street. Katie and Nathan, just a few years older than me, would teach me how to cast spells with wooden sticks, or how a rock could have special powers. Nathan would show me how fast he could round the cul de sac with his small bike– besting his older sister, Katie, while I, of course, would judge the winner. The loser would cry and scream until suddenly the moon said hello and our mothers were calling us in for dinner. I felt alive then.
Years later, amidst tests, college applications, pandemics, and uncertainty, we received a call. While away at his first year in college, Nathan had taken his own life.
Every nerve in my body stung and life felt like a whisper I couldn’t quite hear. I felt alive then.
I remember waking up the next morning after that fateful night, looking out at my cul de sac through my bedroom window, and wondering why I felt such a sudden need to live. I threw myself back at school, baked cakes, planned events, ran around, and was somehow there for anyone and everyone. I craved an aliveness. I searched for reasons to keep going while I struggled with why Nathan didn’t want to.
As I sat in that meditation room with Doug, it clicked: We must do what makes us feel most alive. Life is not the mornings that bleed into afternoons that turn into evenings, where our eyes grow sleepy and we question who we are and what we’re doing. There is life to be lived in these in-betweens, and we must be brave enough to live it. If life is now– we’re not promised tomorrow, and the sun will rise and fall and then again and again– what are we doing now? How can we feel present, full, and alive?
I will never know why Nathan took his own life. I am sad he is not here with us, and that pain will always remain a part of who I am. I will never know his struggles and if he ever felt alive enough. But his memory reminds me that I must make the most out of this moment, and who and what I have now.
If you’re reading this, do what makes you feel most alive.
Meena M., Boston College
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