The internet can change lives

This is the true story of a life-altering event that I experienced.  I recently realized that the impact it had on my life has gradually waned, and I felt impelled to put it down in writing.  Because several years have passed, the details have become a bit fuzzy, but the raw emotion I felt comes back to me as powerful as ever.  I don’t think this is my best work, because the emotion is too raw to try and put into words. 

I’d never actually met Denise.  We didn’t even live in the same country.  We’d connected through an ivillage messageboard, when we were both pregnant with our second children.  Our situations, however, were very different.  Denise was eighteen; she’d had her first child at fifteen.  She was not sure who her baby’s father was.  I was in my late 20s, married, and had just received my Masters degree.  She’d been terrified to tell her mother that she was pregnant again.  I did what I could to support her as she wrestled with so many issues, both during and after her pregnancy.  We became good friends, chatting through Yahoo messenger.  She shared everything she was going through, with me.  I knew the desperate measures she’d gone through, to support herself and her children.  She needed someone who would support her unconditionally; I did so very willingly.  I came to care very deeply for Denise, and wanted so much for her to find some peace and happiness in her life. 

One evening, when our babies were a few years old, Denise popped on to Yahoo messenger, and greeted me.  She told me she had something she wanted to show me.  A minute later, an email arrived from her.  It was a suicide note, written to her children.  She felt that her children would be better off without her, and asked them to forgive her.  She had a plan, and was beginning to implement it.  She’d taken a large number of pills, and was going to add alcohol to the mix.  I started frantically typing to her, trying to talk her out of it.  It became clear during our conversation that she was quite serious, and that I was not going to be able to convince her otherwise.  What could I do!?  I was thousands of miles away.  I began screaming and crying, jumping around in my seat, and banging frantically at the keyboard to try and keep her talking.  My husband came flying down the stairs to find out what was wrong, and I told him what was happening.  I didn’t know what to do; I just knew that I desperately had to find a way to help her.  While I kept her talking, my husband called 911.  They told us to call the local police in her town (I was so frantic; why did this not occur to me??)  So I frantically looked for her address, while also trying to keep her talking, as my husband found the phone number for her local police.  I kept telling her to think about her children, think about her children . . . I had to keep her talking, and thinking about her children was hitting a nerve.  Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was probably only five minutes, she said “I have to go; the police are at my door and I’m going with them.”  I told her I’d called them.  She said “I know.” 

A few days later, she called me from the hospital, to thank me.  That phone call was the first time I’d heard her voice.  The relief I felt was physical; my heart lightened and muscles I didn’t even realize were tense relaxed. 

Denise has come such a long way since that day.  She’s in a long term relationship, with a partner who supports her, and who loves her and her children very much.  She’s taking very positive steps for herself, going back to school and getting the help that she needs.  She volunteers for a Suicide Hotline.

I met Denise, her partner, and her two children about three and a half years ago.  We were only able to spend an hour or so together, but that physical meeting was just incredible for me. 

I know that she’s the one who made the positive changes for herself, and took control of her life.  But I also know, in my heart, that she would not have been around to do those things, if I hadn’t been there for her that night.