An outloud journal post
Three decades plus ago I was young and thought I was in love — I was rushing to get in the door, home from work, so I could get ready to leave on a date.
Andy stopped me in the mutual walkway to our family homes. He was my mother’s best friend’s son. Older than me, we weren’t in the same crowd, but our families were best friends — holidays, bbqs, garage sales…
He wanted to talk about something, I was in a rush — it was also cold out, I asked if we could talk later, I told him I was in a hurry and I had somewhere else to be — he said no problem, don’t worry.
About 8 hours later I awoke to his mother, my mom’s best friend — someone like an Aunt to me, screaming on the phone that Andy was dead, he had committed suicide — I was probably among the last people he spoke to before making the decision to go to a gas station, take a hose, and then off to the woods to asphyxiate himself.
Deep in me I’ve carried a guilt, even though I’ve tried to face this demon in the past, it remains.
Here I was, the young girl who had my own scars, my own wounds, my own suicide attempts and I didn’t recognize it in him when all he asked for was some attention, an ear — — me, that always a good girl, even back then, always there for everyone else, when I focused on myself and what I needed in the moment, the domino effect was tragic.
Lives changed forever — so many of them. New cycles of dysfunction being handed down and like a virus they touch others in their community, and so on, and so on…
Five minutes — the thought of if I had given Andy just five minutes of my actual attention, would that have changed the path for so many?
His father wouldn’t have been driving around his tomb and leave it parked in the back lot as a constant reminder..
His mother’s heart would not break repeatedly with every hint of a memory…
His little brother’s world wouldn’t have collapsed around him when he was still just a boy…
His children would have a father there — somewhere — for them,,,
I wouldn’t constantly wonder if I just gave him five minutes how it could have changed destiny? Was it destiny?
Was he here to send a message ?
I heard it — 5 minutes. How valuable that little bit of time and care could be…
I know I am not responsible for his actions, only mine — and the disappointment in myself for not recognizing his pain, when I also knew what that darkness is like, haunts me.
I probably allowed it to dictate my own self destructive behaviors of silence however also always being that Good Girl other could count on.
Trauma does this — it destroys hope. Some way, somehow, if there is no intervention and kindness — love — shown to someone, it will literally eat away at your body and soul.
I allowed that to go on for too long because I was surrounded by toxicity, it was home. Chaos was a blanket from the judgments and bitterness outside our door.
Soon all the layers start piling on, so much so, the first instance of that slash to your soul gets lost — and even as you uncover and rediscover what you’ve been missing, it will continue to bleed out if you stop on your healing journey.
I owe a lot to Andy. It may have taken me a long while to learn where the balance is of giving but not tipping the scale to falling, is, but him needing attention and my lost in myself, taught me a valuable lesson — 5 minutes of your time and concern could change paths — cycles of dysfunction.
The memories of all the what ifs can be heavy, try to balance them out with the hope for the future and ….this is why.
I hope all touched by this memory of mine, all touched by Andy, and Andy too, find peace.
Be Well.
HEALING HEARTS
https://www.gofundme.com/f/inject-healing-hearts-into-communities
I might be placing my vulnerabilities out there for the world to laugh at and me to be picked apart but we keep getting this wrong, why not try?
At least I want to try to place a bandaid on my branch of the family tree, I am tired of the destruction.
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