I love the comment section of my blog; getting feedback from a stranger on how my behavior appears to the world around me is waaaay cheaper than therapy, although you can’t walk away from the experience with a prescription for Xanax.
I’ve heard from some people that think I’m making light of an all-too heavy subject with these posts while others admire my good intentions.
No matter what you think of this series… I want to hear about it. Reach out to me. Write angry tweets or happy comments, or ambiguous LinkedIn messages. But whatever you do, just make sure yo talk about it.
Yes, I realize this is a blog so no one’s actually “talking”. Remember, no one likes a smart-ass.
Today’s topic is, you guessed it…
Some believe that conversing face-to-face is quickly becoming a lost art in this digital age, and while that’s true, I like to think that conversation has merely evolved (somewhat). People will always need to speak to one another but now we can do it without actually being in the same room or even the same hemisphere.
And yet, in spite of all our strides people are still staying silent when it matters most.
Personally, I love talking; though I always seem to clam up when I’m in the car with my wife and she just stares at me until she says…
Fortunately, she doesn’t resemble Ted Knight when she says it but that’s beside the point. I respond with something like, “I just don’t know what to say sometimes!” And then the sheep really hits the fan. She thinks I’m bored after twenty-three years of marriage. I say I’m not. Then I spend the rest of the trip trying to dig myself out of a hole while operating a motorized vehicle.
This isn’t exactly making my case that life is worth living, or for that matter, that marriage is awesome, is it? Just bear with me, there’s going to be a cheese log later.
The reason my wife is always so eager to chat is that she gets it, she knows that life is too short to spend it silently brooding in a car or an easy chair while staring at the tube.
Communication brings us together.
Of course, articulating our thoughts can also tear us apart, but sometimes that’s for the best.
Comedians talk and our world can light up; orating, when done in a comedic fashion, can make us laugh so hard we pee ourselves (some people actually like that) and remind us of how great it is to be alive. Politicians talk and our world grows dark; he may actually mean well but Trump just has that effect on people. And my dog.
My point is this: if you’re talking, you’re alive. If you’re alive there’s hope that your life can be more than just the darkness of mental health issues.
If my dear friend, Ron, had spoken to me about just how far gone he was the day his life ended maybe he’d still be here. Or maybe not. I’ll never know. Ron’s gone.
But you’re still here.
So talk. To anyone. About anything.
You don’t have to open up about your mental health issues or just how close to the edge you’re feeling if you’re not ready, but as long as you’re talking, you’re alive. Reach out to friends, even if you haven’t spoken to them in awhile. Reach out to family, even if you’ve been estranged. Reach out to the barista at Starbucks, though fair warning, they’re going to be too busy to do anything but call the manager, or if you’re black, the cops.
But just reach out and talk, okay? You may regret it tomorrow but at least you’ll be around to do so.
See you in the lobby, kids…