13 Years Ago

[This is an excerpt from "Your Favorite Broken Record", my memoir.]

“Hey, could you grab me another?” John called from the living room. I turned around and grabbed a second beer from the fridge. I headed back into the living room and held one in his direction. He took it, popping the cap off with the corner of the coffee table. I rolled my eyes and grabbed a bottle opener. The TV was playing in the background. It was a soccer game or something, but neither of us were really watching. The TV was just background noise to the conversation we were having.

“I’m surprised you’re not more upset.” I observed. He shrugged in his usual fashion.

“You can’t worry about the future. It’s unpredictable.” He mused. I shrugged.

“I think the country is filled with idiots and they shouldn’t get a right to vote.” I argued. He sighed.

“You can’t limit people’s ability to have political differences. We need different opinions. It keeps the world moving and keeps things interesting.” He rambled. I couldn’t tell if he was drunk or high, but he was definitely in a more comfortable place than I was.

“You never let anything bother you.” I observed. He shrugged again.

“My anxiety doesn’t get to boss me around. I’m the boss.” He asserted. I laughed.

“How do you do it? I mean, I can tell myself a thousand times to stop worrying and I can’t. I worry anyway. I worry more because I can’t stop worrying.” I started rambling. John smiled.

“You think too much.” He noted. I shook my head.

“Maybe you don’t think enough. There are big problems out in the world John.” I whined.

“I know. But what can you do, right here, right now?” He propositions. I open my mouth, but no answer comes out. He tricked me into thinking so hard my brain would short circuit.

“I guess you’re right.” I concede. He smiled to himself, nodding slowly.

“I know you’re worried. You may have every reason to be. But that doesn’t mean you need to let it take every second of your conscious day. You have to choose to be present in the moment.” He explained.

“I don’t know how.” I sighed. He shrugged.

“I think the knowledge finds you at the time it’s meant to.” He answered loosely. I rolled my eyes again. He was always elusive when he was stoned. This seemed different. He was more out of it than I think I had seen him in a long time. I knew it was time for me to get going when he started passing out mid-sentence. He tried to get me to stay, but, I just felt uncomfortable. I grabbed my bag and headed out of his apartment. I headed towards my place, but I took a detour through the park. It’s not recommended at night, but I’ve liked the view. There was a homeless man in the tunnel, begging for change. I don’t know why, but that action broke something inside of me. I felt overwhelmed with sadness. I was sad for him and for the state of the world. I felt my own helplessness, and my mind started thinking a million things at once. I was saddened by everything and it was completely overwhelming for me. I started bawling.

“We all need change.” I screamed as I started running through the tunnel. I don’t even know if the homeless man was conscious enough to realize I had yelled at him. If he was, I apologize. I think I was just another crazy person to him. I certainly felt like one as I ran towards the subway. I froze, staring at the track in front of me. I could hear the subway car coming through the tunnel.

“You should XXXX yourself.” The voice in the back of my head repeated for the millionth time.

Now, I can see the lights further down the tunnel. Before my brain even processed what I was doing, I stepped off the platform and onto the track. My whole body was tense as I listened to the sound getting closer and closer. I tightly closed my eyes and braced for the impact.

I felt a hand land on my shoulder. It gripped tightly. With a jerking motion, I was standing back on the platform. The subway car went racing by beside me. I opened my eyes and started looking around. There had been no one in the subway when I came down here. When I turned around, I saw him. The look on his face will haunt me for the rest of my life. He was terrified, likely understanding what it would have meant if he hadn’t stopped me. He looked panicked, confused, hurt. There were so many emotions flashing across his face. I don’t even know which one he landed on. He stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. He put one of his hands on my lower back and ran the other over my hair. He was trying to soothe himself, more than me. I don’t know how he had been walking by at that exact moment. He wasn’t even local to the area.

We stood in the subway tunnel in silence for at least five minutes. Then he put his arm around my shoulder and walked me out with him. We went back to his place. He told me that he had been visiting a friend, that was why he had been in the city. He was taking the subway to get to the station to go home. It was purely a coincidence. That’s what he told me when it happened. He was actually following me when I left John’s house. He could tell something was wrong and he felt like he had to make sure I was okay. Even though I didn’t want anyone to see the state I was in, it was nice that someone understood how bad it had gotten inside my head.

I’ll never understand why you saved me. I was meant for no greater purpose. I’m a waste of the oxygen I breathe. No matter what I do to try and improve myself, it’s always three steps back for every step forward. I’m a complete fuck-up. A total train wreck. I’m a disaster in the shape of a girl. I wasn’t worth saving. But, thank you.

And I’m sorry. I’m sorry to everyone who had to deal with my alcoholism and the depression that followed my decision to quit drinking. I know I wasn’t the easiest to handle. I know I was ill-tempered. I know I was insufferable.

It really had nothing to do with my life. My depression had always been present. It sucked the life out of me. I drank to placate the monster inside me. When I quit drinking, the monster had a party at the cost of my spirit. I can say with confidence, a part of me really did die that night.

I’m still a work in progress. I think I always will be. But I’ll keep trying. We Just Keep Going, after all. I don’t have any other choice. My work has not been completed. Only when my goal has finally been achieved can I consider leaving this mortal world. Only, I think when my mission is complete I won’t feel the need to leave anymore.