I had a session with a young man that really touched me this week. He was driven to our clinic by his boss, who noticed that he was having a hard time. “Are you ok?” his boss asked. After considering his answer, the young man decided he needed to be honest. A half an hour later he was in my office, sharing with me about the wave of feelings he was experiencing that made him fear he would take his own life.
It reminded me of a man in a documentary I had seen, regarding suicide prevention. He had miraculously survived jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. He shared his story of great ambivalence and pain, standing at the side of the bridge, wondering what to do. He was desperate for a sign of hope. “If anyone reaches out,” he thought at the time, “if anyone asks if I’m ok, I won’t do it.” Somebody walked up to him and he felt a rush of relief. But instead, they asked if he could take their picture. He did, waited until they had gotten far enough away, and went over the side.
In thinking about both young men, the one in my office and the one on the bridge, it makes me wonder how often there are people around us that just need us to ask them, “Are you ok?” They may not be suicidal, or in deep distress, but could use a sign that they are not alone. Often, when people feel burdened, they withdraw. Trapped within their own heaviness, they don’t want to be a burden to others. Yet, most often, they welcome an invitation out of their isolation.
I am grieving my mother’s death and I am often wading through a deep pool of feelings and memories. It feels good when someone asks me if I’m ok. It is a touchstone and a hand out of my inner world. Depending how I feel, I may share something or simply say I’m fine. Either way, the gesture is greatly appreciated.
Hi Cynthia – I enjoy reading your blog, admire the dedication it takes to get it out every week, through thick and thin and all of life’s curveballs. It helps me feel like I’m still in touch with you in some way.
It was with sadness that I read of your mother’s passing last week. You have my condolences and my love.
Debbie Oliver