The Good Samaritan

 Yesterday I was really struggling...complete emptiness and the familiar creep of depression rolling in. Though I've battled it for the past twenty-some years, it still catches me off guard sometimes. Self-accusation, feelings of failure, bitter loneliness (even in the midst of people who love me), lack of energy, and self-isolation. None of my depressions these days are too long-lived (unlike in the past, where they would stretch for weeks or months), but they can be fierce like a tempest.

I went through my mental rolodex of people to call, but was struggling to think of anyone who would understand. Except there was one guy who I thought might, though I hadn't talked to him since I met him at the Courage conference a couple years ago (as an aside, I don't have SSA, but have friends who do, so thought it would be a good chance to understand some of the issues in the Church surrounding SSA and help support those who were trying to live chaste lives by the Church's teachings). 

I have a general policy, that if anyone flashes through my mind at a given point, I either pick up the phone or email/text them, figuring there is a reason why they popped into my consciousness. In this case, I think it really was divine inspiration. This was a man who had lived the gay lifestyle for years until he was converted and came back to the faith, and now lives chastely. An unlikely friendship, honestly. We talked for about two hours, and it was a true balm. I was actually surprised, at the end of the conversation, I was able to get off the couch and do some things--planted some tomato plants after work, cleaned a little around the house. He was kind and encouraging, didn't write me off, and though it wasn't anything in particular he said, it was enough to know that someone believed in you and cared enough to take the time to talk. 

In "Bring Me My Weapon" I wrote:

The thought of killing myself hadn't crossed my mind in a number of years. So I didn't recognize it when it appeared tonight in my bedroom like an unwelcome guest, a Stranger "rapping sharply, four times...on the fatal door of destiny."

I hadn't invited the Thought. It seemed a culmination of events had led to leaving the door slightly ajar, able to be pushed in from the outside. Feelings of betrayal from friends, stress at work and home, and doubt were likely suspects, but not enough to explain the barrage of negative and aggressive thoughts, the usual suspects: "It's useless. You'll never amount to anything. Better off without you. You have no one. You are alone. Just get it over with already and quit wasting our time."   Everything just seemed to be going down. I lay in bed and stared at the wall. Tears had dried up hours ago but I was weary and had trouble moving out of bed.

This seemed like a similar outside attack, but it's hard to distinguish sometimes--brain chemistry, circumstances, moods, and of course the spiritual. All I know is I was feeling brutally low, and I was grateful this ex-gay man picked up the phone when I called. There must have a been a reason he came into my mind. These periods can be frightening, when you are fighting your own mind. Kindness has such a soft connotation, but when it is sincere, it can reach places where other approaches can't. Most of the time, in these periods, I recognize that people have their own stuff they are going through and precious little time, so it makes it harder to reach out. Plus you don't want people to see you when you are your worst. But this man took the time, as much time as I needed, and bandaged my mental wounds just by caring about me in that moment.

So, I'll stick to my policy of reaching out to others, and reaching out myself, when a flash of a person comes through my mind and take it as divine inspiration. I'm sure there was a reason this time.