Day 27 :: Catch others, be catchable yourself
I read this on another blog today and asked the author, Amy Estes, if I could post it here as part of our 37 day countdown. It will give you another perspective on your 37 days, I believe.
It might open the door for you to ask for help, to recognize that we (and those around us, even those on a merry-go-round) walk around in pain some days. It might reveal that life is a choice. We are making that choice daily, whether it feels that way or not. Some of us die only at the end of our lives, others sooner.
In such a world, packing a lunch for school becomes a simple, tremendous, boring pleasure that you adore. In such a world, waking is a privilege. In such a world, hearing a story such as Amy’s is important:
"I wish I had a lot of time to write a flowery long post, but since I’m teaching and things are nuts and I’ve got lots to do, I’ll put it bluntly: it’s been three years since my last suicide attempt. I couldn’t be more happy to be here today, to see where I’ve arrived and who I’ve become. The past few months have been hard fought, and have brought back many of the demons that got me to where I was that dreadful day, alone and broken and sad. I’ve had some rough patches, but I really feel myself coming around. I feel grateful, calm and glad, as always, to be here.
I don’t write this for the drama, to have accolades and “so glad you’re here!” comments flood my inbox (not that they would; that was awfully presumptuous, now wasn’t it?!) but simply because today is a day I celebrate. I celebrate my own strength, my own ability to know myself, to recognize when I need help, to fight against a disease that really, really, really, really, really drags me down, to improve and grow and change.
I celebrate the fact that boy, I’m still kinda screwed up and have quite a bit of shit to deal with. I celebrate the people in my life for being there for me. I think that’s what’s the most different this year–is I’ve reached out, I’ve asked for help, and I’ve found it. It’s made the past few months feel a whole lot less lonely and desperate knowing that I’ve got a circle, and they’re going to catch me. So, to my Mom, Dad, Kyle, Stacy, Jody, Jill, Dina, Hilary, Andrew, Leslie, Karin, and Brian—my friends, my family, the people I love and treasure most in life—thank you for phone calls and cards and emails and MySpace messages and nights out and dinners and lunches and postcards and days in Berkeley and hugs and kisskles and everything else you’ve given me, whether you knew I needed it or not. You made this a year to remember, a year of being less alone, a year that I’m definitely glad I stayed around for. I love you guys.
I’ve spent today savoring the little things: coffee, a good CD, a day of teaching kids I really enjoy, and then anticipating a mundane training and then an evening with my favorite boy, someone who definitely makes this life a whole lot sweeter."
Amy, I am thankful you are here. Thank you for enriching my own life by sharing such an important part of yours. I celebrate you. Your story reminds me that pain is a human condition that we too often try to hide, and that what I think is a young woman riding a merry-go-round might well be a young woman hanging on by some small thread as life circles around her. Your story reminds me to open space for those in pain to ask for–and accept–help. It reminds me to ask for help myself, and to sit with the vulnerability that asking entails.
A book about life–life with you in it, life with you choosing verbs of engagement and asking for help and teaching–is on its way to California for you.
(If you’d like to submit your answer to the question, "What would I be doing today if I only had 37 days to live?", email it to pattidigh (at) gmail (dot) com.)
