Ben

On the eve of the Polar Plunge, during which I will jump in a frigid lake to raise money for Special Olympics, I am thinking about Ben.

Ben was a Special Olympics athlete I interviewed many years ago. I asked the coach (it was softball, I think) if I could talk to one of his players, and he pointed me to Ben.

Ben was about 6-2, lanky, and sweet as pie. I don't even remember what we talked about, but I remember him vividly. He answered a couple questions and said "You're nice!" and gave me a hug. I asked a couple more questions and went to shake his hand to thank him. He looked over at his mom, pointed at me, said "she's really nice!" and gave me a huge hug.

In about 5 minutes, Ben taught me more about life than I'd learned in all my years of living. Specifically, he taught me that it costs nothing to be kind to everyone you meet. That old saw about everyone you meet is fighting some sort of battle, so be nice, is true. I was having a hard time at that job, and eventually lost it. My EIC kept saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I said, "It's OK!" and it really was, because it was the biggest damn relief to get out of there. There would be plenty of time later to worry about the whole no money, no insurance thing. I was just glad to be done. I had like one friend there and my bosses all hated me.

I find myself now in the best possible situation with a job. My boss is hella understanding, and aside from one little shithead who I don't like either, everybody seems fond of me. At least one of them, and maybe 3 or 4, are coming to see me Plunge tomorrow. I have a multitude of friends outside of work, so many of whom donated to Special Olympics on my behalf. My psychiatrist keeps trying to put words in my mouth and paint me in situations that don't exist. I'm not alone just because I don't have parents. I have Sweetie. I have my sibs. I have, as I said, a multitude of friends who care about me. I'm about as far from alone as one can get. I would devastate them, I'm pretty sure, if I offed myself.

I'm a huge Rick Springfield fan. I'll be seeing him in concert for the 7th time at the end of this month. My dream is to meet him someday. But I don't love Rick just because he's hot, or because he puts out great music (the new one is awesome, dark lyrics aside). I love him because he's been depressed his whole life and openly talks about it. He's been on a media tour for the new one and one interviewer or another asked him what his family would think if he killed himself, as he's been struggling with those thoughts of late. (Me too.) He said it would devastate them, BUT he wasn't thinking about that when he was in that dark place. Many of my friends have tried to remind me of that lately. It's not that I don't care about them, it's that the pain is so bad I just want out, and everyone else be damned. It's all about ME when I'm suicidal. You can tell me you love me to infinity and beyond, and I'll feel it, but I won't give a shit. I don't know if that sounds selfish. Probably. But it's just the way it is.

I'm wearing a Wonder Woman outfit, tiara included, to plunge in. My favorite tool of hers is the Lasso of Truth. When it's wrapped around you, you can't lie. You're required to be completely honest. This is my Lasso of Truth entry. And Ben, I salute you.