Yesterday was hard. Really hard. It was the first time I ever cried over a student.

This really sweet boy who was in my class last year straight up told me that he was afraid all the time, that he was always feeling anxious about social interactions to the point where it was hard to function, that his friend tried to commit suicide, that he was feeling the way his friend felt before it got bad, and that he was worried that his parents wouldn't understand (because his friend's parents had told their son to "man up" before the suicide attempt). He told me how he is constantly thinking about "bad things" he's done, like how when he was 6 his grandma fell down, and he didn't help her up. His grandma's been dead for years, but he still vividly has "flashbacks" about not helping her up.

All I could do was talk to him and get an advisor over to escort him to the office to see the psychologist. The advisor was awesome about it and told the boy that he had anxiety too, and gave him some tips on how to combat intrusive thoughts on the way to the office.

This poor kid is so sweet and kind, he doesn't deserve to feel that way. Nobody deserves to feel that way, but especially not him.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.