Over the weekend, I was reflecting about the times when I was suffering from undiagnosed depression, and how I wanted to leave this vessel. This was from 1988 when I was homeless for a few months. Through hard work and determination, I found a place. But I was not happy because even though I was working, most of my money went for rent and tokens for the bus and subway. It was expensive because I lived in a two fare zone, so instead of the typical ten tokens, I had to buy 20. A two fare zone happens when you live too far away from the subway, and you have to take the bus to the closest station. At the time, there was no free transfer. The private buses charged a cheaper fare, but only during off peak hours, while the transit buses offered no discounts.
I remember I used to hang out at a now closed railway station near my house. Only one person used the station in the morning. It actually made the news. It went over a main thoroughfare via a bridge. I used to stand on the platform and think about what if I jumped off the bridge and landed in the street? Would I survive? I discarded the idea because there were too many people around.
While standing at a busy railway station, I thought about jumping in from of a train as it came into the station. But I started to feel bad about all the commuters that would be inconvenienced, and the trauma that would be inflicted upon the driver. I did not want blood on my hands. I released that thought into the universe.
Then there was the time I was on the roof of my apartment building, and I had a fleeting thought of jumping. It was a six story drop to the ground. Maybe I would survive if I landed on my feet. Teenage me didn’t know that such a jump would break just about every bone in my body. Even if I did survive, I would be in a wheelchair. I wasn’t serious about doing it. I was more afraid. There’s a conundrum. I wanted to die, but I’m afraid to go through with it. I can laugh about it now, because being scared to do it is the reason why I’m still here.
The point is not for you to feel sorry for me. I do not seek pity. The point is, I realise that I have a purpose here. Now I can follow my destiny and help others who are in crisis, and put them on a path to wellness.
Case in point: I was talking to one of my friends in Illinois. She is living in a toxic environment right now. Her live in boyfriend always talks down to her, his daughter treats her like garbage, and she can do no wrong in the eyes of her father. She was telling me she couldn’t remember how to back up her car. Maybe a brain fart, or perhaps a memory lapse? I know not. But I agree it may be a sign of something serious. I suggested she see her clinician and possibly schedule a MRI. I knew she was in pain, and I sent my guide to calm her mind. She said she felt much calmer afterward. That’s gives me an enormous feeling of satisfaction. I wish she could leave the situation, but she cannot because she does not have the money.
Home life and work life are stable for the moment, but as usual, changes are coming at work. At least I am no longer on one of the most horrid assignments I have ever gotten. You have no idea as to how miserable I was. I’m surprised I was not eating my anxiety pills like candy. But there were times when I needed them. Oh, the joys of being an introvert. Or, to be more precise, I’m introverted when I meet someone I don’t know, or when I am in an unfamiliar environment. But once I know the person and recognise their energy as safe, I turn into a totally different person.
Thanks for reading my post. As always, remember to Be Your Greatest Version.
The Introvert Soap Box 