Reasons

Yesterday I asked a guy, who I see around from time to time but don’t necessarily know, how he was doing. I ask everyone that question and unlike most people, I want to know the real answer. He hesitated at first and finally answered, “Uh..better. It’s been a hectic month.”

Usually when someone you don’t know says something like that I guess you should just let it go but it is hard for me to do that. Like I said, I really care about how people are doing. Even strangers. So I asked him what was wrong. First he stammered and it was hard to understand what he was telling me. Then the words came rushing out as if he had been waiting for someone to ask.

His good friend committed suicide a few days after they spent a weekend hanging out and having a good time. The loss of his friend put him into a deep depression. His eyes clouded over as he told me the story of how he has pretty much been unable to function. School and work have fallen apart for him and his will to live is low.

I talked to the kid for a little while. Told him that I understood what it was like to feel that way and I was willing to listen if he ever needed to talk. I gave him a hug and he cried a little. I asked him if he was seeing a therapist and he said not yet. I offered him some advice and told him I could lend a hand in finding him help if he needed it. All I knew about this kid before I asked him how he was doing was his name. He is quiet and different. You can tell that from the moment you meet him. Many people would just steer clear of him based on his appearance or maybe his slightly off kilter demeanor. But underneath all of the strangeness that you might see, he is a person.

This is why I write what I write. There are things that happen to us everyday that we don’t talk about. Most days not talking about these secrets doesn’t seem to cause any trouble but it only takes one really bad day to erase all of those not so bad days. A couple of weeks ago a friend who is doing some volunteer work at a crisis hotline told me that he could not understand things ever getting bad enough for suicide to be an option. I looked at him and I said, “Honey, it is never that bad until it is that bad and then it is too late.” He’s a younger guy, ten years younger than me actually. He sprouted off all of the reasons why he couldn’t understand some of the people that were calling into this hotline. Their parents are successful, they have a warm, safe place to live, they are intelligent, etc. And yes, those are all great things to have and most people would say it is enough. However, for some, due to brain chemistry or other circumstances, all of those things fall short. See, it doesn’t matter what you have externally if internally things are not working in a manner that is conducive to living in this world.

So the conclusion that I came to Saturday, the one about writing this novel the way that it comes to me, the way that will be disturbing for many was so right on. The same things I keep underneath my bed are underneath yours. It is better to take them out and look at them before they come out on their own. Better to know how to deal with them than play the wait and see game. Now on to Lives Lived. The sooner I get this thing out there, the better.