Hi Reader
This is one of those newsletters I wish I did not need to write.
Over the last few weeks, there have been several suicides of teens and young adults in my area. I do not know the families or the private pain behind these losses, and I would never pretend that I do. But when a community loses multiple young people in a short amount of time, I think we have to pause and ask a bigger question: what are we missing?
Not because we are looking for someone to blame, but because somewhere, somehow, our kids are hurting—and too many of them are hurting alone.
That is what I wanted to talk about in this week’s podcast episode. I do not have perfect answers. No one does. Suicide is almost never about one thing. It is usually a combination of pain, isolation, shame, mental health struggles, impulsivity, stress, access, exhaustion, and a moment where the person cannot imagine the pain changing.
But after working with young people for more than 35 years, there are some patterns I think we need to talk about more honestly.
One of them is connection.
We are relational by nature. We were created to need real, face-to-face, human connection. Not just likes, comments, texts, or online communities. Those things can have a place, but they are not the same as being with people who truly see us, notice us, sit beside us, and help us regulate when we are overwhelmed.
I worry that many young people are getting a false sense of connection from screens while still feeling deeply lonely in real life.
I also worry about what happens when a young person is already struggling and then turns to social media. The algorithm does not recognize pain and try to guide someone out of it. It simply gives more of what has already been watched. More sadness. More hopelessness. More content that reinforces the thought loop they are already stuck in.
Over time, their world can start to look darker and more hopeless than it really is.
That is dangerous, because young people need to know something very important: their thoughts are not always telling them the truth. A thought that says, “No one cares,” or “This will never get better,” or “Everyone would be better off without me,” is not truth. It is pain speaking.
And pain needs support. It needs people, skills, time, and someone who can say, “I am so glad you told me. We are not going to handle this alone.”
In the episode, I shared a moment from my time as a school counselor that I will never forget. A teacher noticed that a student seemed slightly different. He was not someone who typically raised concerns—he was doing well and appeared happy—but something felt off.
When I met with him, he initially said he was fine. Eventually, he shared that he had been thinking about dying. When I called his parents, they were shocked. They described the night before as one of their best family nights—laughing, eating together, spending time as a family.
Later, he told us he had been trying to give his siblings a good memory of him before he died.
That still takes my breath away.
It is also why I believe so strongly that schools cannot only be about grades, test scores, and performance. They have to be places where students are noticed, where adults pay attention to changes, and where every student has at least one adult who would recognize when something is not right.
Belonging, connection, and emotional regulation are not extras. They are protective.
Parents need this reminder too. As kids become teens and young adults, it is normal for them to pull away a bit. They may spend more time alone, talk less, or seem irritated by us. But they still need us.
They need small, steady moments of connection—a meal together, a quick text, a walk, a conversation in the car, or a question asked with curiosity instead of panic.
And if you are worried, it is okay to ask directly. You might say, “Sometimes when people are really overwhelmed, their brain starts telling them they do not want to be here anymore. Has your brain ever said that to you?”
That question does not put the idea in their head. It opens a door.
If they say yes, the most important thing is how we respond. Not with a lecture, shame, or panic, even if we feel scared inside. We can start with, “I am so glad you told me. I am here. We are going to get help. You do not have to handle this alone.”
For young people, there is something important to understand as well. If a friend tells you they do not want to live, you are not meant to carry that alone. You are their friend, not their therapist. The most loving thing you can do is involve a trusted adult, even if your friend is upset with you.
This is too heavy for one person to hold, and it is too important to keep secret.
I also shared something my own daughter has said about her experience with suicidal thoughts. In those moments, she did not truly want to die—she wanted the pain and the situation to stop. I think that is something we need to understand more clearly. Many people are not trying to end their lives; they are trying to end unbearable pain.
That is why time, safety, support, and access matter so much. It is also why we cannot wait until a young person is in crisis to teach them how to survive hard feelings.
We need to teach emotional regulation and coping skills early. We need to help kids understand that thoughts are not always facts. We need to normalize asking for help and build strong circles of support around them long before they are struggling.
If you have a teen or young adult in your life, I encourage you to check in with them this week. Not with urgency or interrogation, but with presence, curiosity, and a willingness to listen.
And if you are a young person reading this, I want you to hear this clearly: you are worth helping. You are lovable. You are needed here. Your brain may tell you that things will never get better, but your brain is not always telling you the truth.
Please tell someone. Reach out. Walk into a room where another person is. Do not stay alone with thoughts that are trying to convince you there is no way out.
There is help. There are people who care. There is more story ahead for you, and we want you here for it.
If you or someone you love is in suicidal crisis or emotional distress in the U.S., call or text 988, or use the chat at 988lifeline.org/chat.
With love,
Cynthia
P.S. This week’s podcast episode is a hard one, but an important one. My hope is that it opens more conversations between parents, schools, and young people before crisis happens.
You can listen to me talk about this on YouTube and my Podcast.
"We cannot wait until a young person is in crisis to teach them how to survive hard feelings."
