(When I was 15 I had a small journal I used purely to vent in. I was in a bad home situation as my step-dad was an abusive drunk to my mother, who ended up taking out her frustrations on me. I’d also recently been molested by a friend’s older boyfriend, and had lost my cousin to suicide the year before. In the journal I had mentioned several times how I thought I’d be better off dead and that my mom probably wouldn’t even care. After one of the girl’s in my class read a few pages in that journal, she wrote me this letter that I found again recently in an old storage box.)

(My Name),

I don’t know what your perception of the afterlife is, but I wanted to give you mind. Having read your personal thoughts it is evident that you have contemplated suicide. I don’t know if you would choose this or if it was just venting, but for what it’s worth—DON’T. I have learned some things as of late about the human condition, and the following has become clear to me: there are two kinds of pain, and one of them cannot be escaped in death. There is the obvious psychological pain that we can easily attribute to occurrences and our surroundings. This kind of pain is simply a chemical reaction in the brain. It is attached to our physical being and our circumstances, so we can escape it in death. But there is also another kind, which I think you have experienced, and which one can not be rid of so easily. This pain is not psychological- it is spiritual. It shakes us from the inside and follows us everywhere. Perhaps originally there are external contributors that caused it, but once bred, this pain becomes individual and separate from the rest of one’s life. Every other platform for reality is weak by contrast- time spent with family and friends is only half-appreciated, every good experience pales in comparison to the pain churning and spreading inside you. It is intangible, seemingly unchangeable, and inescapable through any means. You will not cast away that feeling by ending your life. Just the opposite- the physical body acts as a buffer between us and this kind of emotion. It is beyond human comprehension how this pain would manifest and destroy us without a body to act as a barrier. You are trying to escape something by leaving your body that has nothing to do with your body, and it won’t work.
Anyhow, that’s just what I believe in. It’s likely wrong, but I wanted to convey it anyhow.

(This letter is one of the things that saved my life. I’m 27 now, have a much better relationship with my mom who since left my former step-dad, and am about to start a family with the love of my life. All thanks to one 15 year old girl who was recovering from a suicide attempt of her own, saw I was in pain, and decided to do something about it.)

Most of my family members have never had a problem with their weight. As a child and as a teenager, I was noticeably skinny, but as I got older I began to put on weight. This continued throughout my twenties and thirties, until I reached my current age and size: thirty-nine and a bit chubby.

While it would be nice to attain the svelte dimensions of my youth, I am happy with my body (and so is my husband, I might add). I am healthy; I am nimble and sprightly; I often dance by myself just for the joy of it without getting out of breath.

Unfortunately, my mother seems to have a bit of a bee in her bonnet about my weight. Whenever we go out to eat with family, she always makes a hoo-hah about things, while giving me, in particular, pointed looks.

If we order a starter (and she usually orders one herself):

Mum: “Oh, this is a meal on its own for me! I couldn’t possibly eat the whole thing!”

During the main course, I’m treated to at least one verse of:

Mum: “Gosh, I’m so full! I don’t know how anyone could eat all this!”

And if some of us order pudding, she’ll find an ingredient in it to mention, of course:

Mum: “Cheese is very fattening, you know. You should only eat one piece the size of a matchbox a day.”
Mum: “Did you know chocolate can be good for you? But only if it’s dark chocolate. And you’re only supposed to eat it in moderation.”
Mum: “Gosh, that looks lovely, look at all those lovely raspberries! Shame about the cream. Meringue’s all sugar, you know.” (Yeah, no kidding, mum).

Props to my ex brother-in-law, who I think had overheard one too many of my mum’s comments last time we ate together:

Ex Brother-In-Law: “This is delicious! You know, I always think it’s better to enjoy food while you’re alive. This sauce is incredible.”

He said it really casually, but there’s been a definite decrease in annoying comments from my mum since then. If she does ever make such a comment, I’ve taken to agreeing with her, then making a positive comment about my next bite of food. So it might go something like:

Mum: “Well, I’m glad I didn’t order what you did, [me]. That looks too much for me!”
Me: “Yes, it’s not for everyone. It’s absolutely delicious, though. I’m really enjoyng it!”

My husband and I frequent a dollar cinema by our house, the movies are a bit old but tickets are only $2. One night we are walking up and hear a customer ranting about a coupon.
Customer- I want to use my coupon.
Employee- I understand sir, but the coupon is expired. We cannot honor it.
Customer- But I have a coupon, I want to use it!
Employee- Sir, the coupon is expired. It’s not even for this theater. Im sure if you go to that location they might honor it, but Im not sure.
I felt so bad for the employee. Not only was this guy trying to get out of paying $2 but it wasn’t even for that particular theater.

Somewhat paraphrased, as this happened well over a decade ago. I have difficulty with social behaviors at the time of this story, but I am well aware of it. As such, when I am sent to a job placement agency, I tell them I’m aiming for a clerical or data entry position, anything that I can easily develop a “script” to work off when talking to others. They give me a few standard tests, all of them weirdly simple despite how time-consuming they are. After turning them in, I wait for my assigned counselor to look them over. When he comes out to speak to me, he looks utterly baffled.

Counseler: “Why do you want to be a secretary when you could be a doctor?”
Me: *shocked* “I can barely stand the thought of holding a job where I need to oversee other employees, I don’t want to be responsible for people’s LIVES! I’d never be able to afford medical school anyway!”
Counselor: “Ah. Yeah, that makes sense. I’ll see what I can find for you.”

I guess the tests were meant to be difficult after all, but even with high scores I know I’d never be able to handle the responsibility and stress of a medical career. While my social skills and self-confidence are much better these days, I still prefer jobs where I have a script to work off. Thankfully I’m currently in a job where I have a broad one and a good sense of when it’s okay to veer from it, and I even accepted the management position that was offered to me.

(My mother has been dating her boyfriend for a few years. His sister has trouble remembering names and calls my mom Donna, which is not her name. This is one of the more hilarious moments that occurred inst speaker phone.)

Boyfriend’s sister: So tell me, how’s Donna?

(My mother starts laughing at this)

Boyfriend: You mean (mom’s name)?

Boyfriend’s sister: No, Donna.

Boyfriend: Its (mom’s name) and you’re getting me in trouble right now.

(My mom is still laughing at this point. My brother and I, who tower over him, get along side and ask “whose Donna?” Which finally gets him laughing.)