Kathryn, the Penn student who works with Active Minds, is sitting across from me. She has brought printouts, all kinds of information she wants to share, numbers and studies and articles. She has thought of all the angles affecting this issue, the collision of events that has brought us here. Sometimes it seems as if an easy answer is just around the corner, but then when you get there, a switchback appears.
She knows that, back when she was a freshman, having someone to whom she could unfold her soul would have made life easier. But who finds that person within months of arriving in a new city, at a new school? Who can find a soul mate when her own soul is still such a work in progress?
“Nobody here knows you from before, knows who you are and how you act,” Kathryn said. “So nobody really knows if you’re different, or if there’s something really wrong, because the truth is, they don’t know you at all.”
At least now, Kathryn has the friends sitting around this table. And while that does not make everything better, it does make one thing better. She knows for certain she is not the only one feeling this way.
CHAPTER 5
Just Sleep
The night of December 12, Madison texted her dad I need to come home. Immediately he wrote her back, told her to book the first train out of Philadelphia the following morning. He would pick her up at the Newark station. Track practice, studying for finals, those things were secondary; most important was that they see her, talk, put some sort of plan in motion to fix whatever was happening. Later they could figure out the logistics of what she might miss.
Everything had escalated so quickly in her mind. How had that happened? She had been fending off the worst thoughts for weeks, the ones she knew she shouldn’t be having. She’d been focusing instead on ways to calm herself, to make things better. But the worst thoughts were persistent, bold, incessantly tugging at her consciousness. She really didn’t want to let them in. But at some point she did, convincing herself that she could open the door just a sliver, just to take a break from the constant knocking. Maybe the thoughts would come in and sit still. In a backward way, the worst thoughts actually calmed her. They were reassuring, like knowing that there was a secret escape route in case the room caught fire. Of course, there was a chance that these thoughts might destroy everything, actually set the room on fire. Was that what was happening? Or did the fire already exist?
Over the past few weeks—each time practice, or studying for final exams, or looking at someone else’s beautiful and carefree Instagram feed, like those of the Penn seniors whose friendships seemed everlasting, hadn’t gone well—those worst thoughts would begin to boil. They did not obey. They did not just simmer in the background. And they were offering something clear-cut: a way out.
Suicide. That word felt heavy and sharp, impossible for Madison to even think about, let alone say out loud. Everything else in her mind felt abstract, so abstract that Maddy felt immobilized by the lack of clarity. Where had all this darkness come from? Her mind had always been a wilderness, but a mostly well-lit one, so she could see her footing. But now shadows had settled over parts, blackness rolling into all the crevices. Peeking around corners felt dangerous.
The scariest part was that out of this foggy world would occasionally come one slice of frightening clarity. Thoughts, so purposeful and disciplined, would burst through like a train cutting through a snowstorm, an iron fist on a collision course with its destination. Maddy had, in fact, thought of the power of such a train—a real one. And thought also of how defenseless she would be standing in its path. What would that feel like? Would it be exhilarating? In a single moment, a cold, inhuman force could turn fear into fearlessness. At least, maybe that’s how others would see it, would see her, instead of the soul-crushing panic she actually felt.
According to one close friend, she was thinking of this train. She thought of walking onto the tracks, just a mile or two down the road. She couldn’t go to the 30th Street Station, with its marble floors and vaulted ceilings, because trains were either idle there or pulling into or out of the building, so slow as to be harmless. She thought instead about the stretch of track that ran parallel to the Schuylkill, the river that separated University City from Center City. In Dutch, Schuylkill literally means “hidden river,” so the easy way to tell locals from outsiders is whether they add the word “river” after Schuylkill: the hidden river river. Maddy had learned this fact upon first moving to Philly. The tracks were near Penn, down an embankment, and trains had usually picked up steam by the time they passed through.
She thought of leaving her dorm room, of those final minutes, of the relief gained by making such a clear and decisive choice. God—what was she even talking about? Who owned this new voice inside her?
This couldn’t happen. She desperately needed her mom and dad.
That morning, December 13, as she rode Amtrak home, she sent an e-mail to her assistant coach, Robin Martin, explaining why she would miss practice that afternoon:
From: Madison Holleran
To: Robin Martin
Hi coach Martin! I have some bad news. I woke up this morning feeling very very sick and threw up a lot. I don’t know what exactly is wrong but my parents thought it’d be best for me to come home for the weekend and rest for finals. I’m taking the train home soon so I obviously won’t be at practice today. I don’t know how this happened :( hope practice goes well and I’ll see you soon!
From: Robin Martin
To: Madison Holleran
No worries. Get better!
Before sending the e-mail to Martin, Maddy texted a number of her friends, letting them know that whatever plans she had made with them for the rest of that week, she couldn’t keep. Each text was almost identical to the others and paralleled the story she’d told Martin.
Maddy: Hi friend!! I hope you aced your math final!! Just wanted to let you know I’m going home for the weekend. Woke up feeling so sick And threw up a lot and my parents thought it would be best to come home and rest so I’m getting on a train now
Ingrid: Oh my god I’m so sorry!! Are you feeling any better? I wish I could do something to help!!