A close friend of mine who I lived with for two years while I was at university tried to kill herself. She has struggled with depression and anxiety for a long time, but somehow it still came as a shock. Worse still, is the feeling of helplessness that overwhelms me now. I am so far away, and I can’t help but feel like I didn’t do enough. I knew that she had these struggles, and I didn’t do enough to remind her that I was there for her–worse, I wasn’t able to be there for her. I’m two thousand kilometres away. She was in a coma for days, and they weren’t even sure if she’d wake up or if she’d have brain damage, and I wasn’t there to be by her side.
It’s at times like these that I pray to God and plead with him to help. Where I put my whole heart into it, and feel him working within me. It sounds far-fetched, but I found out about her attempt Saturday morning. I went to mass that evening, and prayed during the entire mass that she would be okay, that she would wake up, that I could speak with her again. I felt that God heard me, as I sometimes do in moments of real reflection and prayerfulness.
When I left church, I checked my phone. She had woken up. She still couldn’t talk, and was in and out of sleep, but she was out of the coma. Sometimes the power of prayer is absolutely unbelievable.
I pray that I can be there for my friends.
I pray that my friend will be able to find the health she needs.
I pray that I will be able to provide support to my friend.
I pray that she will be able to ask if she needs help.
I pray that her family will be there for her.
I pray that she has the strength to seek help.
I pray that she makes a full recovery.
I pray that I can be strong for her.