Let me guess. You want to know why I tried to kill myself.
You want to know how I survived. Why I disappeared. Where I've been all this time. But first, why I tried to kill myself, right?
It's OK. People do. They measure themselves against me. It's like this line is drawn somewhere in the world and if you never cross it, you'll never consider throwing yourself off a building or swallowing a bottle of pills- but if you do, you might. People figure I crossed the line. They ask themselves, "Could I ever get as close as he did?"
The truth is, there is no line. There's only your life, how you mess it up, and who is there to save you.
Or who isn't.
-Mitch Albom, for one more day
I sat in the Social Security Administration office prepared... I never really went to sleep last night... I sat under my electric blanket in my favorite oversized leather chair and catnapped for about an hour before I had to start my day... I had cleaned most everything I could and gathered all of my documents I would need... birth certificates for the three of us, his death certificate, marriage license, divorce decree, and a few miscellaneous papers for good measure... it never hurts to be over-prepared... and so I set one small book into my bag with my all important documents... a new book that caught my eye by a very talented author... for one more day, by Mitch Albom, is a story of a mother and a son, and a relationship that lasts a lifetime and beyond. It explores the question: What would you do if you could spend one more day with a lost loved one? It's about a man who was once well known whose life falls apart and he tries to kill himself... seems a bit masochistic on my part to want to read this story but Albom's work resonates with me... I only managed to make it a few pages in before my name was called... now for those of you who have successfully avoided having to go to the Social Security offices for anything, congratulations! My last visit was in this dingy old office building where you couldn't tell what the original color of the tiles should be, they were worn and faded... so you can imagine my surprise when the directions have me going somewhere else... same area but different locale... there before me was a brand new building and when I entered it felt very much like Orson Wells 1984... everything was computerized and a voice over the intercom called out random numbers and periodically a name... I took a seat in the lobby and was soon called down to window 18... down the long hall and keep going... I got up with uncertainty and wandered down the corridor... there were small pockets where there were clusters of windows, though each window seemed to be very private... soon I found myself across from a rather pleasant looking woman who smiled and asked that I take a seat... never would I have believed that anyone in the employ of a government agency would have kindness or compassion for a case that comes across their desk... I'm just more paperwork to be shuffled, data to be entered... but this kind woman treated me with dignity and respect... she helped process my papers quickly and hushed any fears that I had... I am more than pleased with our allotment... it was more than I could have hoped for and will allow me to spend my time more with my own kids instead of picking up nights here and there making ends meet... it affords me freedom... freedom from the uncertainty of whether the child support payment will be made so I can pay the bills... freedom to use my time doing whatever we want... freedom to say I'm sorry but we have family commitments that are too precious to give up just so I can earn a few extra dollars... it allows me to take the price tag off of my time after 5:30 and just be myself...
The reason I posted the opening paragraph of this tale is because it gave me pause... the last part reminds me of Chris but what doesn't remind me of him? It makes me think back to Mr. Jaacks, our AP English teacher, who saw symbolism in everything... everything related back to Christ, God, and the womb... it didn't matter what the story was he could always tie one of those themes in somewhere... and so now my eyes see life with a hint of Chris... every passage I read, every song I hear, every look of my son... it all reminds me of him... but the end of that passage is about the choices we make... it's how we choose to live our lives... it about how we treat those around us because in the end we are deserving of what we get... not that I feel as deserving of the love I have been shown... these beautiful people around me who have been so amazing and supportive, who stop by just to check on me, and send their well wishes from afar... but I guess I've been living my life as the way it's been intended and life has blessed our little family today with relief...
You want to know how I survived. Why I disappeared. Where I've been all this time. But first, why I tried to kill myself, right?
It's OK. People do. They measure themselves against me. It's like this line is drawn somewhere in the world and if you never cross it, you'll never consider throwing yourself off a building or swallowing a bottle of pills- but if you do, you might. People figure I crossed the line. They ask themselves, "Could I ever get as close as he did?"
The truth is, there is no line. There's only your life, how you mess it up, and who is there to save you.
Or who isn't.
-Mitch Albom, for one more day
I sat in the Social Security Administration office prepared... I never really went to sleep last night... I sat under my electric blanket in my favorite oversized leather chair and catnapped for about an hour before I had to start my day... I had cleaned most everything I could and gathered all of my documents I would need... birth certificates for the three of us, his death certificate, marriage license, divorce decree, and a few miscellaneous papers for good measure... it never hurts to be over-prepared... and so I set one small book into my bag with my all important documents... a new book that caught my eye by a very talented author... for one more day, by Mitch Albom, is a story of a mother and a son, and a relationship that lasts a lifetime and beyond. It explores the question: What would you do if you could spend one more day with a lost loved one? It's about a man who was once well known whose life falls apart and he tries to kill himself... seems a bit masochistic on my part to want to read this story but Albom's work resonates with me... I only managed to make it a few pages in before my name was called... now for those of you who have successfully avoided having to go to the Social Security offices for anything, congratulations! My last visit was in this dingy old office building where you couldn't tell what the original color of the tiles should be, they were worn and faded... so you can imagine my surprise when the directions have me going somewhere else... same area but different locale... there before me was a brand new building and when I entered it felt very much like Orson Wells 1984... everything was computerized and a voice over the intercom called out random numbers and periodically a name... I took a seat in the lobby and was soon called down to window 18... down the long hall and keep going... I got up with uncertainty and wandered down the corridor... there were small pockets where there were clusters of windows, though each window seemed to be very private... soon I found myself across from a rather pleasant looking woman who smiled and asked that I take a seat... never would I have believed that anyone in the employ of a government agency would have kindness or compassion for a case that comes across their desk... I'm just more paperwork to be shuffled, data to be entered... but this kind woman treated me with dignity and respect... she helped process my papers quickly and hushed any fears that I had... I am more than pleased with our allotment... it was more than I could have hoped for and will allow me to spend my time more with my own kids instead of picking up nights here and there making ends meet... it affords me freedom... freedom from the uncertainty of whether the child support payment will be made so I can pay the bills... freedom to use my time doing whatever we want... freedom to say I'm sorry but we have family commitments that are too precious to give up just so I can earn a few extra dollars... it allows me to take the price tag off of my time after 5:30 and just be myself...
The reason I posted the opening paragraph of this tale is because it gave me pause... the last part reminds me of Chris but what doesn't remind me of him? It makes me think back to Mr. Jaacks, our AP English teacher, who saw symbolism in everything... everything related back to Christ, God, and the womb... it didn't matter what the story was he could always tie one of those themes in somewhere... and so now my eyes see life with a hint of Chris... every passage I read, every song I hear, every look of my son... it all reminds me of him... but the end of that passage is about the choices we make... it's how we choose to live our lives... it about how we treat those around us because in the end we are deserving of what we get... not that I feel as deserving of the love I have been shown... these beautiful people around me who have been so amazing and supportive, who stop by just to check on me, and send their well wishes from afar... but I guess I've been living my life as the way it's been intended and life has blessed our little family today with relief...
posted by Sarah at 2:09 PM
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