You are important to someone. Even if that person is too little to say it to you yet. Even if you haven’t talked to that person in years. There is someone who will never recover from the you-sized hole you leave if you go.I know what it’s like, the pain. Every minute of being alive tastes scorched; every breath hurts like the slice of a knife. Knowing that there isn’t really anything good enough about being here, for any of us, to outweigh the bleakness. Feeling the hurt of the whole world channeled through the dull greyness of every 3 am minute. How did any of us who’ve been there hold on until things got better? I honestly don’t know.For some of us it was a choice. Knowing something was going to change, even a little bit, if we could just hang on. But for others it’s just not going. Wake up, go to sleep. Eat. Repeat that enough times and one day it doesn’t hurt as much. Who knows why. You are not perfect. You may screw up on a daily basis. You may feel like your efforts don’t do anything. Like everything you touch turns to crap. Like the people around you would be better off without you. But that is not the case. It’s just not.No one is perfect. Everyone screws up. It’s what makes us real and layered and interesting. You are as special for your faults as despite them. Someone I loved and lost once told me, “It’s no trick for God to work through someone perfect. The more broken you are, the more God shows his glory by shining through you.” Whether you believe in a guiding force or not, the universe creates imperfection. You in all your weakness are exactly what we need. Please stay. Even if you don’t know how.Just keep getting up in the morning. Eat what you can. Drink water. Go to bed, even if you can’t sleep. Go outside and turn your face to the sun. If you can, do this with Teresa for 3 minutes a few times a day. And tell someone how you feel. A friend. A stranger. Leave it in the comments here. Don’t go. This post is for my friend Ray, who went.
A few weeks ago, my wife and I went for a walk down on the beach at twilight. It’s something we do every so often, because it’s the best time of day for such a thing, and the uninterrupted activity makes for better discussions. In Long Beach, the ocean is down 15 to 20 feet from the city proper (it’s why the collapse of the Antarctic Ice Sheet is NO BIG DEAL here), so you have to climb stairs to get back to the street once you’re done with your walk. On this particular evening, I emerged at the top of the stairs—chest heaving with breath, because I am still hideously out of shape, despite my current diet and exercise regimen—only to find a woman there, out for a run, waiting for a traffic light to change. She had a rape whistle wrapped around her right hand, and when she sensed my arrival—not hard, given my panting—her fingers tightened around it instinctively. She didn’t even look at me. She just did it.
Perfectly captures what a real ally is.
#132: Story of a Friendship, 10
I love the documentation writing almost as much as the story!!
Elizabeth Duvivier, the wonderful creator of Squam Arts Workshop, presented a terrific challengeon the Squam blog today: write something wonderful about yourself that you know to be true. Actually, the challenge is to write something every Friday, but for…
… why not share that with everyone? This great post by Anne Thériault on her blog The Belle Jar really gets to the core of why the media coverage of the Steubenville trial is so very, very wrong-headed.