Remember, if you really want to change the world, it’s gonna cost you something…
The story linked above concerns contemplating suicide, which I have NEVER given more than the most passing of thoughts. One, I’m too “cowardly”; two, I could never do that to my family (I’ve had at least one family member who did, and it’s still devastating over 20 years later); and three, I’m one of those people who has to stay to the end of the movie, no matter how bad it is. 🙂 A friend sent the story to me after I told the following tale on Facebook, and it touched me deeply.
Yesterday, I went for a haircut. I have an interview, for a JOB, today, and wanted to look nice for it. I’ve been letting my hair grow, basically because one of my best friends dared me to. It’s been short, REALLY short, for over 10 years and I thought, “Oh, why not? If I don’t like it, I can always cut it off.” But it was at that stage where it looked less like a conscious decision and more like a fashion faux-pas. So, I made an appointment and had it trimmed.
When I walked into the shop and got settled in at my hairdresser’s station, something odd and a little bit wonderful happened. My hairdresser, whom I’ve been going to for 10 years or so, said to me, “You haven’t been in in FOREVER! I was getting worried about you!” The last time I’d been in, apparently, was just before my last surgery, the one where I got new nipples. It was outpatient surgery, not a huge deal (except to the extent that ALL surgery is a big deal), and then I made the decision to let my hair grow. Well, I hadn’t told HER that, and all she knew was that I had surgery and then she didn’t see me for a couple of months. She was concerned, about ME.
I tend to think that I go through life basically invisibly, no one really noticing my passage. But Kelly noticed. She CARED. And she worried about me. That’s a very humbling thing, and it made me realize that maybe I’m more visible than I think. Except for when I become “invisible” for a time. And people notice. Thank you, Kelly, for that revelation.
I’ve been unemployed for nearly two years now. I’ve had cancer, and a 13-hour surgery to get rid of it. I can’t pay my rent or my bills without help. But through it all, I keep coming back to these three words. I am blessed.
I was on the phone with a good friend the other day. After covering important topics, like disparaging each other’s mothers and retelling semi-factual tales from our college days, our conversation turned to the mundane.
“So, how’s work going?” he asked.
For those of you who don’t know, I make money by teaching leadership skills and…
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