Trigger warning: suicide
In reflecting on my friendship with Mia, I wanted to revisit our conversations on social media. However, I found only one message left in her account. It was from her long-term partner, who wrote: “Dear Sarah, this is Alex. I wanted to let you know that Mia’s funeral will be held tomorrow at 12:40 PM UK time. I thought you should know. With love, Alex.”
Aside from that note, there was nothing else remaining. I’m not sure if the platform automatically deleted our messages or if I did it myself. It’s puzzling why I would have erased everything except for Alex’s last message.
Mia and I never met in person. She lived in London, while I was in the U.S. We connected through a Facebook group dedicated to mental health support, a collective meant to help those battling conditions like depression and anxiety. I viewed it as a community that united us through the shared struggles of mental illness.
Admitting to having online friends can feel uncomfortable, as it often carries a stigma—suggesting that my friendships are merely digital avatars. It also implies a willingness to be deceived by someone online, leading to fears of potential catfishing.
At that period in my life, I was aware of the risks and stigma but was unbothered by them. With major depression, the number of people in my real-life support system can dwindle, leaving me with those who truly understand the struggles of mental health. What remains is often unhelpful advice or insensitivity from those who can’t fathom the depth of mental illness.
The combination of social withdrawal and the isolating nature of depression can make one feel painfully alone. Fortunately, I found solace through my iPad.
Studies by experts like Dr. Emma Lawson suggest that online “friends” may not be considered “real” friendships. I probably didn’t need a psychologist to confirm that, as many people hold that belief. But Mia was different. From the moment she first reached out to me, we exchanged messages daily for nearly eight months—often multiple times a day.
We didn’t dwell on the past; it was too painful to confront what we had lost. I didn’t know much about her job or hobbies, only that she swam for hours to keep her “demons” at bay. Yet, we shared everything about our lives in the present and discussed how to endure our struggles.
During that time, my depression was beginning to improve, while Mia’s was worsening. I tried to provide gentle encouragement and share strategies for coping, discussing everything from journaling to alternative therapies. We celebrated small victories and comforted each other, proving that sometimes a virtual shoulder can be just what you need.
Mia’s death hit me hard. Our connection was more genuine and raw than any I had experienced before, and her abrupt passing was something I had dreaded. Like many who die by suicide, Mia struggled to hold on to life. I understood why.
In life, I rarely spoke about Mia to those around me. Most people didn’t really listen when I shared my struggles with depression, so when she died, I felt compelled to keep my grief to myself.
The stages of grief, as outlined by the Kübler-Ross model, are something we all recognize. However, as Sandra Martinez noted, these stages are not a strict guideline, and individuals may process their losses differently. During this time, I primarily felt sadness and a profound sense of loss.
Now, as I write about Mia, I find acceptance. If you’ve read this far, you know more about my friendship with Mia than anyone in my physical life does. It seems fitting that the only space where I can truly honor her memory is in the online realm.
If you’re interested in exploring more about navigating grief and support, check out this insightful article on adolescent anger and grief. Additionally, for further reading on family-building options, visit this excellent resource.
Summary:
The article reflects on the author’s deep connection with Mia, a friend met online through a mental health support group. Their intimate correspondence, which spanned several months, became a lifeline for both. Following Mia’s tragic suicide, the author grapples with feelings of grief and isolation, revealing the challenges of discussing mental health struggles with those around her. Ultimately, writing about Mia brings a sense of acceptance and remembrance in a space where she feels most comfortable sharing her experiences.