Michael H.
Photography by Cat White
Before reading, please know Michael’s letter contains mentions of suicide or self-harm. If you feel reading this kind of content may trigger you, we suggest you read another letter, such as this one.
If you’re reading this, you haven’t met everyone who is going to love you.
At the start of my first semester here, in 2022, I had broken up with my then-girlfriend, and for most of that fall, I’d been fine – enjoying the company of new friends and the fun and flexibility college brings – up until the shooting that November. Seeing the Run, Hide, Fight messages while on a homework break in my dorm room broke me, and for what I think was the first time in my life, I was having a panic attack. I was so anxious, scared, and alone in the room, and I struggled to get back to work as my hands shook uncontrollably and my whole body felt light and weak. Over the next few days, family and friends – some of whom I hadn’t spoken to since graduating high school – began reaching out to check in on me. And while it was great to know I had people who wanted to make sure I was okay, it only gave me a false sense of comfort and security.
Less than a month later, I’d end the semester and head home for my first winter break at UVA. Returning home after the semester ended seemed great at first – I mean, who doesn’t love having a break from school with absolutely nothing to do but relax? But soon after, I found myself depressed, anxious, and alone. Most of my friends had gone on trips to visit family or taken a vacation. Even my mom had planned to leave the country, trying to rekindle a failed marriage – something I encouraged her to do because I wanted her to be happy, and because I thought I would be fine on my own. I couldn’t have imagined just how wrong I’d be. I had the same daily routine that break – wake up, make sure my dog was fed and walked throughout the day, fill the remaining time as best I could, go to sleep, and repeat. Each new day was lonelier than the last, and at the time, I couldn’t have cared less if I lived or not. Some days, the promise of relief that would come with killing myself seemed more appealing than staying alive, but I’m fortunate that the guilt that came with the thought of leaving my dog behind to starve and suffer was immense enough to keep me going, one day at a time. Up until then, I only had that one thing to live for, but by some miracle, three of the people who I now consider my best friends asked me to come over for Christmas dinner, as if their hands reached out for mine as I was spiraling toward the bottom and drowning in a horrible pool of depression and loneliness. And for the first time in a while, I felt a small, but meaningful sense of worth – maybe, just maybe, other people cared about me, and I had more than just a sense of duty as a reason to keep living. If they didn’t know it then, I hope they know now just how grateful I am for their kindness in my time of need. And if I hadn’t made it out of that dark time, I never would’ve met the people in my life today who continue to inspire me and give me more than enough reasons to keep going.
Coming back in the spring, I had new things to look forward to, one of them being Spring Rush. I was hopeful of finding a new community of brothers that I could look to for friendship and support. I’m very lucky to say I found a brotherhood that not only provides these, but also fosters difficult conversations, openly talking about mental health and our individual struggles. I’m humbled to say that this message isn’t mine alone but stems from the collective wisdom of the classes before me. In September of 2021, we lost our brother Robbie to suicide, and every year since, we’ve painted the Beta Bridge bright green (his favorite shade) with the message “You haven’t met everyone who is going to love you” and a silhouette of a moose head (his favorite animal). I never met Robbie, but the stories told were bittersweet, of a man who lit up the room, had a smile on his face, and whose mission was to spread happiness by infecting others with laughter and joy everywhere he went. Everyone who knew him always had something positive to say, and without hesitation, they would all say this world was better with him in it. In this life, I’ve made so many mistakes, and I’ve come to regret a lot of things, but I don’t regret making the choice to continue living every single day, because I know that I haven’t yet found all of the people who will love me. And ever since that December, I can say with humility and gratitude that I haven’t felt that low again, because I’ve been fortunate enough to find some of my people during my four years here.
Just remember that no matter what you are experiencing, this world has so many wonderful things to offer and, without a shadow of a doubt, it’s better with you in it. Know that you are loved and worthy of being loved; no matter how dark it gets, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel leading to a world of joy, with your people waiting for you. And when you find your people, check in with them every once in a while. They might be battling something you’ve triumphed over, or maybe they have the wisdom that you’re searching for.
If you’re reading this, hold out hope – love endlessly, lead courageously, and live fearlessly – because you haven’t met everyone who is going to love you.
Michael H., University of Virginia
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