Six months ago, I was in my car on the other end of a crisis line. I truly believed that the world was better off without me in it.
Without a doubt.
Nothing mattered. I couldn’t bring myself to do my job. I couldn’t parent. I couldn’t face who I was or where I was in my life. I was always just under the water, unable to find the air.
I needed help. Big time.
So I found the strength in myself. I found the part of me that wanted to live.
I know that you tried to find that part… but the water got the best of you.
Water is beautiful. It calms me to watch the river flow by. I like sticking my feet in, or jumping off the dock into the lake.
But beneath the beauty lies a certain danger. The water is powerful and we are often smaller than its will.
It can sweep us away so very quickly.
See…. I think about it all the time. I know I shouldn’t but death has become very commonplace for me over the last year. I think about those last moments. I wonder how you felt. I’ve lived there in that hopelessness and come back to the light.
But those last moments, when you were alone. I wonder about that. How you felt truly hopeless. Worthless. Not even someone who was worth saving. And I wonder, selfishly, how much space there really was between you and I.
People sometimes mean more to me than I do to them. I can spend one night with someone and suddenly I’m all vanilla sky on them.
I connect with people. They impact me. If I talk to you once at a party we become friends for life.
It’s how I am. And you were one of those people.
Today is so much different than that day. I’ve discovered a lot about who I am. I’ve moved on from a toxic work environment to something else that I’m enjoying. I have a sense of purpose. I’m recovering. Working through my wounds. I found it inside myself to be here.
I wish you had, too. Again, selfishly. But I remember when I was always just under the water. I remember how it felt like I was completely alone. And when I remember, I remember you.