It's interesting. My first instinct was to resent this woman's selfish take into my own personal shithole as well, which had me looking up suicide rates per capita over time and suicide rates per state because I mean, I graduated with about 130 people but it would have been 134 if it weren't for suicide (would have been about 140 if it weren't for drunk drivers but whatever). I never got to meet my uncle because he couldn't handle Harvard. My grandmother had had enough of my grandfather by 72. I've stood on that precipice and wondered if I had the guts but we don't need to talk about that right now.

My experience hasn't been one of jokes. It's been one of "things were fine" then "there was a crisis" and then "they were gone." Suicide is, in many ways, a stoic's disease:

It's that thing you do when you don't think you'll be missed. I know as I've increased my social circle, as I've founded a family I value deeply, that I haven't had a suicidal thought in decades. More than that, I've gotten the odd "that time you were nice to me when I moved to town 20 years ago kept me from killing myself" Facebook message more than once. I've gotten messages like that on this site. I don't have any data going the other way but my experience has overwhelmingly been one of the right attention at the right time keeps people alive. Doesn't even have to be kindness - I've gotten a couple "you pissed me off so much that I decided not to off myself" messages. Just knowing that "the ocean" isn't empty seems to make it survivable.

I suspect rates are skyrocketing for non-hispanic whites because their social fabric is more torn and frayed than since the Wild Wild West.