When the world comes crashing down, everyone hopes there will helping hands to share the load. The reality is, you’re always going to be fighting that battle alone.
The phone calls will be there. The offers of assistance will be presented, but the truth remains – no one can fathom the depths you have to climb to make it out alive.
They may try to carry you, to hold your hand, to help you on your way. In the end, however, it is always you who must carry the burden alone.
It was day nine or ten living on the basement couch. Hours had been spent staring at the wall, the ceiling, the floor. I knew every flaw in everything in the room. I saw the cracks in the ceiling. I saw the holes in the wall. I traced the outline of missing parts of floor tile with my eyes. I didn’t care about any of it at all.
Every six months or so, Paul and I sat down at my computer to pick a new set of music to play in my car. My 2000 Hyundai Accent had a tape player and I purchased an adapter so my CD player could be used. It was easier to burn a CD full of music than a cassette tape. On July 21, 2008, we only owned one car and Paul decided he wanted to pick the music.
“Meditations” by Marcus Aurelius shouldn’t exist, but I’m glad it does. It is a set of personal writings by the Roman emperor and provides a wealth of insight into the man who struggled with the same things we still struggle with today.
Meditations, or Τὰ εἰς ἑαυτόν, literally translates as “things to one’s self.” It is a collection of private notes Marcus wrote to himself.
In the twelve books of “Meditations,” you see his quest for guidance on doing the right thing and to continually improve himself. One of his more famous quotes, “Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one,” is the logical conclusion anyone could come to after spending time seeking out how to be a good man. Marcus felt that instead of endlessly debating what a good man is or how to be one, just get out there and be one.
The book is done. It’s out of my hands for the next three weeks. Then, the editing comes. It should be time to relax, get back into the swing of things at work, but there’s something not quite right.
Otto Frank, businessman and father of Anne Frank. Amsterdam, 1960. Arnold Newman/Courtesy of Howard Greenberg Gallery.
As our group made their way toward the bookcase, there was quiet chatter. I was among a small group of people visiting the Anne Frank House just before noon.
“Have you noticed your mental health improve at all since you left Facebook?” Sandra asked. I nodded my head in agreement. In between shoveling bites of food in our faces she admitted that it seemed to help her mental health as well by spending less time on the platform. It’s a task that has taken me nearly a year to accomplish.
I don’t do New Year’s resolutions. I don’t usually sit and reflect on an entire year. If something needs to be changed in my life, I take measures to make that happen when it occurs. This past year, however, was different.
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