Lately, I’ve been watching a show called, Lie To Me. It’s about a science doctor crime solver who basically is a human lie detector. He can tell whether a person is lying by watching their micro expressions and gestures. It’s one of my guilty pleasures. Well, I was watching an episode about suicide and it makes me really think of that place you have to be in life to feel so done with it all.
Thankfully, I’ve never reached that point, but I have at times felt overwhelmed by either my circumstances, sadness, or loneliness. I believe the difference for me has been prayer, hope and love. Even at my lowest point, I’ve always had people who loved me, who were there, standing in the gap, so to speak, between me and my happiness. Standing there when I just couldn’t reach it on my own. I could see it still. I remembered what it felt like to genuinely laugh and look forward to the next day. I remembered and longed for the good times. But then I became comfortable in my sadness. It was like a friend. The more I’d isolate myself, the closer we became. Pretty soon my sadness was my very best friend in the world. We did everything together. I think I fell in love with my sadness at times because I knew I could count on it to be there no matter what. It was there to remind me of all that once was, everything that I thought made me happy was bundled into this easy to travel with companion who never left my side. What more could you ask for, right?
I’ve reached this point several times in my life. I’ve got Emo poetry, and emails, to prove it. I even went to therapy until I felt like I knew more about my therapist than they about me, but I digress. I wanted to fix it. I knew it didn’t have to be this way. But I had to first realize that I couldn’t get that exact same feeling back – no matter what. That to look forward to a new day, I had to stop looking back for happiness and fulfillment. I realized I had to start thinking about the happiness that could be versus the happiness that was.
Sometimes, you see that realization in others’ lives. There is someone who’s been where you are and can help you find your way out or sit with you until you’re ready to move out on your own. I loved my isolation chamber; it became my safe haven–a fortress of sorts. My family and friends banged at the door for weeks, even months in some cases. Finally, when I wouldn’t come out, those loving bastards broke in and held their ground. If I wasn’t going to leave, neither were they. I’m so thankful for that.
The times that I think about as being my happiest have always involved other people. This will come as no surprise to those who know me, but I think I am a lot of fun to be around. I think I’m hilarious, more than others do, I’m sure. I love being me, most of the time, but still my happiest times always involved others.
My mom was amazing and we come from a crazy family, full of love, so there were always good times to be had growing up. I remember slumber parties at my best friends’ houses as a child when it was all about junk food and staying up late. I remember slumber parties at my best friends’ houses as an adult when it was all about alcohol/drugs, junk food, and passing out because you stayed up too late. I remember meeting my husband and falling in love. I remember becoming a parent, and the fun times we had with the kids over the years. Good times can be had alone but my best times have been with others.
I honestly believe that we are all supposed to be here for each other. Likely, there’s someone banging down your door or maybe someone whose door you should be banging down right now. You don’t have to study facial micro expressions to recognize sadness, loneliness, or fear in someone’s eyes. We all recognize places we’ve been. The beautiful thing is that we don’t have to know how they got to that point and we can still walk them through how we got out.