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I love going for nature walks. Not the modern day type of nature walk, but the
old fashioned Teddy Roosevelt kind of outdoor walk. Even with my health the
way it is, I enjoy getting back in the thick of things to do my serious thinking and
have long talks with my Creator. There aren't that many places nearby where I
can go for those walks, but Bernheim Forest here in Bullitt County is a very
relaxing place to go.
Sometimes I will take a trail that I have not taken in a long time, or that I have
never taken before. Occasionally those trails will have a slight fork in the
sometimes man-made path. As I look at those path choices set before me, I
must decide which way I want to go. Life is like that. Almost every day we come
to some kind of fork in the road. Usually they are minor ones, sometimes they
are life altering decisions we must make. Like the path in the woods, we are not
really sure which way either one goes, but we still have to choose.
Ten years ago I spent some time in a mental hospital. I have talked about why
in earlier essays so I won't dwell on it here. I will simply be brief in saying that
after the breakup of my first marriage, I thought I had nothing left to look forward
to other than sickness and pain. While there I met a lady and fellow patient
named Karen. Karen was in there for a suicide attempt. Her most recent
relationship had turned out to be nothing but lies and pain. When that was
over, she ended up being admitted to the same hospital unit as I.
Karen and I had a great deal in common. We had both been betrayed (in our
minds anyway) by those we thought loved us. We had been hurt by people we
had given our hearts to. That common pain became the basis of our friendship.
I remember after one difficult therapy session I had let loose a tirade of anger
so fierce that no other patient would talk to me for a time....except Karen. The
rest of our stay we had as much fun as mental hospital patients could have. We
made silly jokes, harassed the staff (in good fun) and had shaving cream fights.
We were both lonely and hurting. For a time after our in-patient stay we were
inseparable. We took turns crying to each other while the other held up their
friend. Karen and I would sit across the table from each other, sometimes never
saying a word. That quiet assurance that "I am here for you" was all we had for
each other, but it was what we both needed.
Karen earned almost $1,000 a week at her government job. Karen had a
beautiful hilltop house with two horses, a garden patch, guinea hens and three
dogs. She had a brand new Dodge Ram pickup. Karen would let me bring my
kids to ride her horses. My daughter, Ally, to this day thinks Karen was the
coolest older lady she ever knew. Karen would go places with us and help me
entertain my kids. She taught Ally how to feed the hens and weed a garden.
Ally was 5 when she met Karen, Alex was not quite 2. Alex, though, liked to
climb up and start Karen's tractor. You never saw two old farts run so fast in
your life as the time we heard the tractor try to start and there sat little Alex
giggling away at the steering wheel. Karen's new boyfriend would start a
campfire and we would roast hot dogs and marshmallows on sticks. Looking
back now, those were great times.
Karen was, for quite some time, my best friend. There at the drop of a hat if I
needed her, or at least never more than a phone call away. When I married my
second wife in 2000, I had the usual decision as to who to make my "best man."
The choice was simple. Karen. While she was not a "man" she was indeed the
one most worthy of standing with me at my wedding. Of course she got there
late as usual, but she made it and stood proudly with me.
Somewhere though, our paths started to diverge. Remember those choices we
all face? I think Karen and I may have even started to walk different paths from
the very beginning. For in the hospital is where I decided to fight my misery with
humor. It was in the hospital that I made the list of ten things I wanted to do
before my life was over. I set goals for myself and armed myself with the red
nose to fight off my bad times, loneliness, and sickness. When I walked out of
those hospital doors I CHOSE to take life head on. Life IS a challenge, but I
CHALLENGED life to try to stop me. I started working for my dreams of
professional bowling almost right away. I CHOSE to fight my pain, physical and
emotional, with humor.
Karen, on the other hand, chose to numb her pain with alcohol.
A few weeks after her discharge Karen got her first DUI arrest, and attempted
suicide again while in custody. Those of us that loved her helped her get back
on her feet and before long she was back to work. However, she was hurting so
deeply from loneliness that it seemed no medication nor any amount of therapy
would help. Night after night she numbed that loneliness with at least a six-pack
of beer. The next day her pain was still there, along with the problems from
alcoholism.
Eventually Karen met a guy who seemed to give her all of the love she needed,
and shortly thereafter he became her fourth husband. I think though the red
flags went off for me when she told me she had met him in a bar. "Speedy" and
Karen seemed happy, but I wondered how much of that happiness came from a
drunken stupor?
Within a few years Karen and Speedy both had felony DUI convictions. He went
to serve his time in jail first, with Karen doing so shortly thereafter. Speedy got
out before she did. They had lost their house, her horses, vehicles and their
drivers licenses. Karen's present when she got out of jail was divorce papers
from Speedy.
That was when Karen got in touch with me again. The woman I once knew was
just a shell now. She had lost that great job, her home, her horses, nearly
everything she held dear. Now the one thing she wanted the most, LOVE, that
was gone too. She called me from where she was living-her mother's
basement-to make plans to get together and laugh like old times.
On Monday April 9th, Karen's divorce was going to be final. But it never
happened.
For on Sunday the 8th, Karen finally succeeded at taking her own life.
I did not know until that following Tuesday. My kids were visiting for spring break
and Ally suggested we call Karen and see about hanging out. When Karen's
mother told me the dreadful news, we were all devastated. Ally and I held each
other and cried. Jamie and Dee did their best to hold us both up. Eventually I
broke the news to Alex, and he and I shared a few tears together.
I cannot explain the emotions I felt. I have never had a loved one commit suicide
before. At first I felt guilty, that there should have been more I could have done.
Then I was sad, for the loss of my friend and the times we would never have
again.
Then I looked at the picture I have of Karen and her granddaughter and I
became very angry. How dare she? I don't think she realized the pain she was
causing all of us. Her two kids would never see her again. Her son had the task
of trying to explain to his daughter why her grandmother "went away." I have
said this before and I will say it again. Suicide is cowardly. Suicide is the most
selfish thing a person could do. By ending their own pain, the person spreads
their pain to those they leave behind.
I am not angry with Karen any more. For if there was a person in that much
physical pain for ten years we would not be so critical. Karen's pain was very
real, it was the pain of a lonely heart.
As I look back at the last ten years, I am thankful to have known Karen, she
brought my family many smiles. I also realize that no matter how much I ever
hurt, I cannot spread that pain to my kids. With her final act, Karen taught me
this lesson.
I talked with Jamie about all of my feelings and realized that my life has been full
of pain, just as Karen's was. Jamie helped me realize what made the difference.
That one simple CHOICE. When we came to the same fork in the road, we
made different decisions. There but for the grace of God go I.
Those of you out there who read my writings. You have a similar choice right
now. I can show you how to fight misery. I can be a role model for all of you.
However, I cannot make the choice for you. Either you will choose misery, or
you will choose to fight it. That is my power, and it is yours.
Karen, my "best man" and confidante, chose not to fight the misery. I will
choose to remember the laughs and the bond we shared.
I ask all of you, please, come walk along with me. This path is not easy. It was
not meant to be. But remember this, the reason there is a path in the first place
is that others have walked it before you.
Be well,
Sponge
04/21/2007
old fashioned Teddy Roosevelt kind of outdoor walk. Even with my health the
way it is, I enjoy getting back in the thick of things to do my serious thinking and
have long talks with my Creator. There aren't that many places nearby where I
can go for those walks, but Bernheim Forest here in Bullitt County is a very
relaxing place to go.
Sometimes I will take a trail that I have not taken in a long time, or that I have
never taken before. Occasionally those trails will have a slight fork in the
sometimes man-made path. As I look at those path choices set before me, I
must decide which way I want to go. Life is like that. Almost every day we come
to some kind of fork in the road. Usually they are minor ones, sometimes they
are life altering decisions we must make. Like the path in the woods, we are not
really sure which way either one goes, but we still have to choose.
Ten years ago I spent some time in a mental hospital. I have talked about why
in earlier essays so I won't dwell on it here. I will simply be brief in saying that
after the breakup of my first marriage, I thought I had nothing left to look forward
to other than sickness and pain. While there I met a lady and fellow patient
named Karen. Karen was in there for a suicide attempt. Her most recent
relationship had turned out to be nothing but lies and pain. When that was
over, she ended up being admitted to the same hospital unit as I.
Karen and I had a great deal in common. We had both been betrayed (in our
minds anyway) by those we thought loved us. We had been hurt by people we
had given our hearts to. That common pain became the basis of our friendship.
I remember after one difficult therapy session I had let loose a tirade of anger
so fierce that no other patient would talk to me for a time....except Karen. The
rest of our stay we had as much fun as mental hospital patients could have. We
made silly jokes, harassed the staff (in good fun) and had shaving cream fights.
We were both lonely and hurting. For a time after our in-patient stay we were
inseparable. We took turns crying to each other while the other held up their
friend. Karen and I would sit across the table from each other, sometimes never
saying a word. That quiet assurance that "I am here for you" was all we had for
each other, but it was what we both needed.
Karen earned almost $1,000 a week at her government job. Karen had a
beautiful hilltop house with two horses, a garden patch, guinea hens and three
dogs. She had a brand new Dodge Ram pickup. Karen would let me bring my
kids to ride her horses. My daughter, Ally, to this day thinks Karen was the
coolest older lady she ever knew. Karen would go places with us and help me
entertain my kids. She taught Ally how to feed the hens and weed a garden.
Ally was 5 when she met Karen, Alex was not quite 2. Alex, though, liked to
climb up and start Karen's tractor. You never saw two old farts run so fast in
your life as the time we heard the tractor try to start and there sat little Alex
giggling away at the steering wheel. Karen's new boyfriend would start a
campfire and we would roast hot dogs and marshmallows on sticks. Looking
back now, those were great times.
Karen was, for quite some time, my best friend. There at the drop of a hat if I
needed her, or at least never more than a phone call away. When I married my
second wife in 2000, I had the usual decision as to who to make my "best man."
The choice was simple. Karen. While she was not a "man" she was indeed the
one most worthy of standing with me at my wedding. Of course she got there
late as usual, but she made it and stood proudly with me.
Somewhere though, our paths started to diverge. Remember those choices we
all face? I think Karen and I may have even started to walk different paths from
the very beginning. For in the hospital is where I decided to fight my misery with
humor. It was in the hospital that I made the list of ten things I wanted to do
before my life was over. I set goals for myself and armed myself with the red
nose to fight off my bad times, loneliness, and sickness. When I walked out of
those hospital doors I CHOSE to take life head on. Life IS a challenge, but I
CHALLENGED life to try to stop me. I started working for my dreams of
professional bowling almost right away. I CHOSE to fight my pain, physical and
emotional, with humor.
Karen, on the other hand, chose to numb her pain with alcohol.
A few weeks after her discharge Karen got her first DUI arrest, and attempted
suicide again while in custody. Those of us that loved her helped her get back
on her feet and before long she was back to work. However, she was hurting so
deeply from loneliness that it seemed no medication nor any amount of therapy
would help. Night after night she numbed that loneliness with at least a six-pack
of beer. The next day her pain was still there, along with the problems from
alcoholism.
Eventually Karen met a guy who seemed to give her all of the love she needed,
and shortly thereafter he became her fourth husband. I think though the red
flags went off for me when she told me she had met him in a bar. "Speedy" and
Karen seemed happy, but I wondered how much of that happiness came from a
drunken stupor?
Within a few years Karen and Speedy both had felony DUI convictions. He went
to serve his time in jail first, with Karen doing so shortly thereafter. Speedy got
out before she did. They had lost their house, her horses, vehicles and their
drivers licenses. Karen's present when she got out of jail was divorce papers
from Speedy.
That was when Karen got in touch with me again. The woman I once knew was
just a shell now. She had lost that great job, her home, her horses, nearly
everything she held dear. Now the one thing she wanted the most, LOVE, that
was gone too. She called me from where she was living-her mother's
basement-to make plans to get together and laugh like old times.
On Monday April 9th, Karen's divorce was going to be final. But it never
happened.
For on Sunday the 8th, Karen finally succeeded at taking her own life.
I did not know until that following Tuesday. My kids were visiting for spring break
and Ally suggested we call Karen and see about hanging out. When Karen's
mother told me the dreadful news, we were all devastated. Ally and I held each
other and cried. Jamie and Dee did their best to hold us both up. Eventually I
broke the news to Alex, and he and I shared a few tears together.
I cannot explain the emotions I felt. I have never had a loved one commit suicide
before. At first I felt guilty, that there should have been more I could have done.
Then I was sad, for the loss of my friend and the times we would never have
again.
Then I looked at the picture I have of Karen and her granddaughter and I
became very angry. How dare she? I don't think she realized the pain she was
causing all of us. Her two kids would never see her again. Her son had the task
of trying to explain to his daughter why her grandmother "went away." I have
said this before and I will say it again. Suicide is cowardly. Suicide is the most
selfish thing a person could do. By ending their own pain, the person spreads
their pain to those they leave behind.
I am not angry with Karen any more. For if there was a person in that much
physical pain for ten years we would not be so critical. Karen's pain was very
real, it was the pain of a lonely heart.
As I look back at the last ten years, I am thankful to have known Karen, she
brought my family many smiles. I also realize that no matter how much I ever
hurt, I cannot spread that pain to my kids. With her final act, Karen taught me
this lesson.
I talked with Jamie about all of my feelings and realized that my life has been full
of pain, just as Karen's was. Jamie helped me realize what made the difference.
That one simple CHOICE. When we came to the same fork in the road, we
made different decisions. There but for the grace of God go I.
Those of you out there who read my writings. You have a similar choice right
now. I can show you how to fight misery. I can be a role model for all of you.
However, I cannot make the choice for you. Either you will choose misery, or
you will choose to fight it. That is my power, and it is yours.
Karen, my "best man" and confidante, chose not to fight the misery. I will
choose to remember the laughs and the bond we shared.
I ask all of you, please, come walk along with me. This path is not easy. It was
not meant to be. But remember this, the reason there is a path in the first place
is that others have walked it before you.
Be well,
Sponge
04/21/2007
| PATHS There are choices we all face |
