Heavy Hearted

We lost power at work yesterday. Apparently all of the A/Cs kicking on for the first time this year (high was over 95°F yesterday) caused a neighborhood transformer to explode. I know this first-hand because it happened as I was crossing our parking lot to head to lunch. Since the repairs were going to take several hours at a minimum, and not all of us are lucky enough to have laptops to work from battery power, our executives closed our office for the day.

So it wasn’t until this morning that I saw the email from our CEO. The email announcing that one of the girls in our council had died “in an incident” on a local bridge yesterday. The email went on to say what a valuable member she’d been, that she’d been very involved in our programs, and that our thoughts and prayers were with her friends and family.

A quick perusal of the newspaper explained that she (a sophomore) and her boyfriend (a senior) had jumped off a bridge to their deaths in the wee hours yesterday morning.

And I cried.

I didn’t know this girl. I don’t know what was going on in her life to make her think this was a good idea or the only answer. I have been to that dark, desperate place before. All I can say is, it gets better.

My family has been touched by suicide. I can speak first-hand on the questions that are left behind. And I can tell you about the things you miss when you take your own life. I can also tell you that I’ve yet to meet a person left behind after such an experience who says, “Thank goodness __________ is gone. Good riddance!” Instead, there are the brokenhearted who remain to ask questions that will never have answers, replaying last conversations, wondering if they missed a clue that this was going to happen, wondering what they could have done differently, blaming themselves for not doing X, Y or Z, because that might’ve changed everything.

Suicide is awful. It’s painful, despite what the theme to M*A*S*H might tell you. People who commit suicide typically think it’s “for the best”. If you believe that’s true, then tell the people you think it’s best for before you do it! See what they say.

If life is too hard to go on, it’s okay to take a break. If you need to hide under the covers for a week or more, do it. Tell someone how desperate you feel. Listen to them when they tell you they care.

This beautiful, wonderful 16-year old girl will miss prom, graduation, getting married, maybe having kids of her own, because she was in such a dark place she couldn’t see the light anymore. If you’re in the dark, I promise you, the light is still there. Someday it will creep back in. Just give it more time.

Death of an Alarm Clock

Like many things in my life, my alarm clock has issues. First, the little light in the corner would sometimes be on, or would remain resolutely off, even when the alarm clock was definitely turned on, making me wonder whether it would go off at all the next morning. Then the snooze button stopped working. Well, kind of. At first, I’d have to push it multiple times to make it work. Then I’d have to violently push it multiple times. Finally, I had to turn the clock upside-down, listening to the internal bits shuffling the the process, then flip it back over and push the button down, sometimes repeating the process multiple times before it would finally realize that yes, I did want it to shut up.

But today, I was up before the alarm clock went off. So I turned it off. Only to have it go off anyway. And the only way to turn it off? Turning it back on.

I think it’s time for a new one.

Tales from the Second Floor

My apartment building was built in 1928. For the most part, I love the character of the building. The walls are plaster, not drywall. It has real woodwork and hardwood floors. My landlords, a couple of older gentlemen who grew up in the neighborhood and have been friends since high school, bought the building about 5 years ago and have been doing their best to fix it up and keep it running.

For the most part, I love my apartment (except when the closet doorknob comes off, the toilet breaks and the bottom row of tile pops out in the shower within a day of each other and I only have 1 hand to try to deal with it because I stupidly broke my wrist a few weeks prior). But there have been a few adjustments I’ve needed to make.

My building is kind of L shaped, and has 2 main stories and a garden level. I live on the “little leg” side, which faces east. For my side of the building, there are 2 one bedroom apartments on each floor, and I live on the top floor. (There is also an apartment underneath the first floor on the garden level. I refer to those folks as “the people under the stairs”. I’ve never seen them. I just hear their TV when I go to do laundry.) On the long leg, there are 4 two bedroom apartments, again 2 on each floor.

So I have a next-door neighbor, a downstairs neighbor, and a neighbor whose apartment touches my bedroom wall.

In a small building like this, you would think that I would see my neighbors. The only one I’ve seen more than once is the caretaker of the building. I saw my downstairs neighbor for the first time yesterday – I’ve been living there since mid-September.

Last Tuesday, Mr. Complicated came over for dinner. At around 7:30, he was on his way out my front door as I was messing with a project in the living room. We were talking to each other, saying our good-byes and he opened the front door. After a moment, he closed the front door and continued talking to me, a strange expression on his face. I asked “What?” and he just shook his head and continued discussing the subject we had been discussing previously. A couple of minutes later, he opened the front door again. This time, I could hear noises in the hallway – grunting and thumps. Mr. Complicated left my apartment, and as he went, I could hear him speaking to someone, but couldn’t quite make out what he said. I waited a few minutes for him to get to his car, but he beat me to it and called me on his cell phone. When I answered he was laughing.

Apparently my next door neighbor was drunk, and had passed out in front of our front doors. Not knowing what exactly to do the first time, he closed the door again, a little loud. When he could hear her trying to move around outside, he left. He had to help her up and to get her key in the door.

Zen

For all of the running around I’ve done for the past few days, I have such a feeling of peace at the moment.

I am definitely a solar-powered girl. The temperatures have been in the 70s and even the low 80s for the past few days. The grass is starting to wake up and turn green, and I’ve even seen a few trees with buds on them. For those of you in warmer US climes, you have to understand – we haven’t even seen tulips and daffodils up here yet!

I have been spending as much time in the sunshine and fresh air as I possibly can. There is a “park” (read large grassy field with a walking track) not too far from my house. It borders the Mississippi. One loop is 1.5 miles. I’ve been for 5 loops since Friday night.

I have so much energy right now. I feel good. At peace. Zen.

Yesterdays

I recently heard from my ex-husband who, after almost 4 years, now admits that our divorce was the best thing for both of us. At the time, it was more my decision than his. It shouldn’t matter, but I’m glad he doesn’t blame me anymore and has validated some of the points I made at the time.

The birthday party was a rousing success. The birthday boy, who didn’t think he really wanted any kind of a celebration, walked around with a huge grin all afternoon. He’s a great guy and deserves to see how many friends he has and how much we all like him sometimes.

John did not show up to the party. However, at 7:00 that night, I received another Facebook message from him. This one apologized for his behaviour the previous night. He claims he doesn’t remember the exchange at all, and only realized it happened because the window was still open when he logged onto Facebook later. He admitted he has a serious binge drinking problem, and this exchange with me was a big wake-up call. He’s searching out an AA program this week. I hope he was serious. He was a good guy and a buddy for many years. I’d like to see that guy come back.

Finally, my arm is finally free of the cast!  Whoo hoo! And nothing like seeing my orthopedic surgeon armed with a Leatherman multi-tool to remove the pins from my arm!!! (I was expecting something a little more, I dunno, surgical? Not something my dad would use on me for the same purpose!)