a woman jumped off the hotel i work in

I work at a hotel in Beverly Hills. Over the weekend a woman jumped from the 10th floor, landing in front of our restaurant and dying on impact.
A few things are bothering me about this.
First and foremost is because the thought of jumping off this building myself has crossed my mind. While the idea seems quick, convenient and painless, knowing someone has followed through with that impulse puts a new perspective on it.
The woman was "about 30;" I'm almost 30. She kept a blog; I've starting keeping up with mine again or at least trying to. She obviously felt this was her only choice; I know that feeling.
I can't stop thinking about the intense loneliness she must have felt, the pain of not being able to understand or deal with her problems in a way that was productive, that final decision and the moment she jumped. 
I can't find anything online about this, we were just told in our morning meeting. I don't know her name. I don't know anything else about her, but I wish I could have been there to hold her hand and tell her that her life is worth more than she could imagine. I wish that I could believe that I would be strong for someone in need, but when I can't even do that for myself, how do I expect to do that for any one else?

I wish someone would hold my hand and tell me that all my worries, fears and insecurities aren't real and don't matter.

I'm totes a hero now and I feel like shit about it.

We had a weird thing happen on Saturday that I just kind of need to share I guess. We were walking from an open mic in Hollywood to a show that was half a mile down the street so that we didn’t have to try to find parking again, we thought it would be easier to just walk. We had just crossed an intersection and a cop was at the light about to turn left. Once we got across the intersection I saw two super drunk people, a man and a woman, stumbling around the sidewalk about 30 yards down. I thought oh great, we get to deal with walking by these people and I pointed them out to Jeremy. The next second I looked up and the woman was on the ground and the man was kicking her. I ran back to the intersection and yelled at the cop who luckily had his window down, “Sir! There’s a man kicking a woman on the sidewalk over here!” I explained where they were and I saw him pull over to help. We didn’t stay, I didn’t really want to get involved any further, I just wanted that guy to stop beating the woman. My adrenaline was pumping like crazy after and I almost cried, but I was ok after minute. It was just weird. I’ve never actually been in a situation like that and certainly never been in a position to actually help. 

On Sunday I told a small group of comedians we were hanging out with what happened. Their response was not quite what I expected, well honestly, I don't know what I expected. After I told them my story, they (jokingly because we're all comics) started telling me how I may have ruined that girl's evening because what if that's what they do for fun? What if that's the only way she can get off? He probably had a perfectly good reason for doing what he did. She probably deserved it. 

I know they were joking, I know they were just giving me a hard time because what DO you say when someone tells you a story like that? But it still hurt me more than I've been hurt in a long time. I felt like such an asshole for intervening in someone's life. I guess what I should have done is nothing. 

For some reason I felt the need to be the one to speak up, and when I did I was ridiculed.