He stood there, on the edge of his abyss, and peered over the side careful to not get too close to the edge. Unrequited love, shattered promises, disappointment ….. They were all there, little bits of his life heaped one on the other. He stared at them for a while considering how they each came to be.   He knew there was more than just this.  He hoped for more. He believed there was something else bigger than this, just waiting for him….He turned his back and followed the light that was on the other side. He allowed it settle around him and bring comfort.

The days led to months, and they became years. The chasm grew.  A mangled, ugly heap. Discarded dreams, little failures, unsurmountable grief. He dangled precariously over the edge. His time there was frequent now, consumed by the desolation before him, he struggled to move away from it. Weary of a fight that just wouldn’t back down, his hope waned. He searched earnestly, but the light was merely a flicker. So distant. His belief in it’s truth vanquished.   He turned his back to it and relinquished all that he was and all that he was to become.

In memory of SJK – July 24, 1968- August 18, 2008

Over 300 million people in the world suffer from depression, and over 40,000 people in the United States commit suicide each year making it the 10th leading cause of death in our country. If you or someone you love suffers from depression, get the help you need.   This world needs you.  https://www.afsp.org/   

The new day slipped in through the window and crept across her face. She relinquished the night.  The space between filling with a rush. She touched the corner of the envelope wondering if this was the day. Distended and puffy it had sat unopened for 53 days. She handled it gingerly fearing that the wisp of a scent, the remnant of an exhaled breath, the release of a sigh would escape from the pages that held them safely inside. She pictured the words, the slant and curve of them pouring from a familiar hand. She had spent mindless hours wondering how many there were. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t be enough. One word would lead to two and then three until she had devoured them all, sick with her over indulgence. Just like that it would be over. There would be no more.  With that reality, more agonizing than the anticipation of knowing the words inside, she put the envelope down.  Today wasn’t the day.

So, I haven’t written in three weeks. I’ve started and stopped countless times but the words don’t come.  And so, stuck in the Atlanta airport with a four hour delay, I thought I’d write about not writing. 

I never wanted this to feel like a chore. I wanted to write for myself and for you  I wanted to lay something before you and let you decide what to do with it. Accepting fully that my words might be eveything or nothing to you.  I really didn’t want more than that. I could take it or leave it. I was sure of my ambivalence.   I figured I could sustain myself for a good long while like this. But the last few weeks of not writing has left this gnawing feeling.  I’m somehow letting us all down; me, you, the words.  

Here’s what I have to say to the words….

 I feel you trying to push your way to the front of the line. Nudging and poking,  begging for attention. Underdeveloped, small , weak. I see you there. I do.  I have nothing to give you. Not one single thing. I keep trying. I do. You’re dying, withering away.  I know this, but I’m helpless it seems.  If you could just hang on a little longer, hold tight to me.  I’ll save  you. I will.

And to all of you that read what I write. Thank  you for sticking with me.  I’ll get it together sooner or later. 

In the meantime, have something on your mind you want me to write? Or even better…. Want to be a guest blogger?  I would love to have you write something I can share.

PS- four hours is approaching five. Traveling is NOT glamourous. 

PSS- blogging from my phone is not easy. I suppose that means I’m old (still).  

PSSS- the picture has absolutely nothing to do with what I said but it sure is beautiful. Sunrise over Windsor from my office. 

For those of you that read Enough, you might find this a little redundant, but what I’m writing here is connected to something bigger so if you can hang with me and suffer the redundancy it might be worth it to stick around and read on.

I contemplate my life every day. I look at what I need to do, how much time I have and how I am going to divide it. I evaluate winners and losers. Assess the collateral damage, evaluate the risks that I take with each decision. Careful to consider everything. In the end, the formula I follow is never exactly right. There is always some flaw or miscalculation. Of course, this is to be expected. The precise formula has never been mastered by anyone. Ever. The precise formula requires that you are everything to everyone all the time. And well, that is just not possible. I know this, but it doesn’t prevent me from trying to figure it out each and every day.

I’d like to tell you that I’m deeply enlighten. That each day, I can sort through my mayhem, make my choices and end my day accepting that it was enough. Not everything. But enough. I’d also like to tell you that I end the day with a satisfied sigh, But if honest….. I’m not deeply enlighten on most days. I fall into the same traps over and over. Most times my sighs of satisfaction are panting gasps of breath.  I doubt, I question, I lament, I worry, I second guess. I have guilt and regret.  I wake up the next day and I try again. I always try again.

During my business trip last week, that doubt and questioning was present as I headed out for a run. My horse trading for the day resulted in the cancellation of a meeting that was deemed to be “less important”  (I’d pay for that decision later) than my need to run beside the ocean. I ran hard. Pounding away at the brooding in my head, hoping to squeeze it out through my pores and be rid of it. I tried to open my mind, to be kind to myself to focus on the things I got right. But it wasn’t happening. Running and running, I was not getting out of my own head. Then, something caught my eye. I stopped and  looked down.  In big beautiful sweeping letters “You’ve got this” was written on the path. I stared it for a moment and then quickly dismissed it. I carried on.  There it was again. “You’re strong”. Strong? Ha, that’s funny as I struggled through mile number 2!!….. I shrugged this one off too. Then the next one came “You’re brave”. Hmmm….. only running, nothing that requires bravery. “You’re beautiful”  That one made me laugh out loud.  I brushed this to the side and went on.  Then there was this………….“Just keep going. You can do this.  You’re amazing.”  I stopped and stared.  Really stared.  Then I went back and read each one again. “You’ve got this”, “you’re strong”, “you’re brave”, “you’re beautiful”, “just keep going, you’ve got this, you’re amazing”.  Intuitively, I knew that these words were intended for a different purpose likely left over from a race that had taken place on this path. But on that day, that morning, that moment, those words wound up on MY path, during a run I really shouldn’t have taken in a place I had never been before.

The Universe knew what I needed and it was provided.

I chose to listen.

Are you listening?

She was an economist. Evaluating the supply and demand of her life. Considering it all. It came to the same imbalanced end. It always did.

She was a horse trader. Each transaction carefully considered. Each repercussion, because there were always some, weighed and measured. It was a riddle without an answer, but she relentlessly searched for the solution.

She was a gambler.   Crowded around the table with wife, mother, executive, daughter, sibling, friend. Shuffling the deck, doling out her cards, considering her odds, waging her bets. If she could just come out ahead….

She was a believer. Each day she was steady. Each day she stayed the course. Each day she was strong. Each day she persevered.  Each day she fought.  Each day she was full of optimism. Each day she did not break.

She was something.

She was not everything.

She was enough.