First, we're coming up on the eighth anniversary of a dear friend of mine committing suicide. Every fall it hits me anew. I loved Calvin. I hope I never forget late nights playing pool in the student center or smoking cigarettes outside of Sykes. His often oddly-colored hair styled rather alarmingly like that of a flock of seagulls. But gosh his smile. His smile could -- and did -- light up the room and world. I can see him so clearly in my mind. I want to ease the pain I never knew existed. Not at the level that would eventually take Calvin. There's also the pain from losing another friend from suicide a couple years later. My highly empathetic nature doesn't want any of my friends to experience what I experienced following those friends' deaths.
The second reason it's been a struggle of late is because there are people I work with who don't know topical boundaries or how to read cues saying to steer away.