Making a Difference

Geoff and I have tried to make it a practice over the years to periodically, intentionally, reflect on our lives.  We reassess where our time and energies are going, we talk about what has the highest return on our time and energy investments, and we re-prioritize if necessary.  Not infrequently, we find ourselves wondering if anything we are doing is making a difference in any way, in any life, in the world around us.  And most of the time we come back to the same conclusion that we just really don’t know.

I was in session with a client whom I care about a great deal.  She had been struggling to survive a severe bipolar disorder for a couple of years.  We were in the month of March, and the manic part of her bipolar disorder was awakening from the hibernation of depression she had existed in during the dark winter months. 

She was recounting for me a particularly difficult weekend.  An alarmingly difficult weekend.  Painstakingly identifying how deteriorated things had become.

“I haven’t been sleeping.  I’ve been up since three o’clock this morning.  I’m cycling rapidly from feeling really up and having lots of energy, to feeling up but having no energy, to experiencing these rages that come suddenly and make me want to tear out all my hair.”

I nodded, listening and feeling increasingly alarmed.

“On Sunday I couldn’t make my brain slow down.  And I couldn’t get my body to move nearly as fast as my brain.  So I decided to go for a drive.”   She shrugged.  ”I know, probably not my best decision.  Anyway, I drove the back route to the mountain, figuring I was going to climb that mountain.  Today. And if I disappeared, that was okay.”

I was familiar with that mountain.  That particular trail climbs 4000 feet in elevation.  

“The whole parking lot was full.  I don’t know what all those people were doing there.  Heck, it wasn’t even nice weather.  I figured maybe it was a church picnic or something.  Anyway, I flew out of there in a rage.”

I nodded.  Grateful to God that enough people just happened to fill up the mountain parking lot that afternoon so there was no place to park.

“Then I decided to go out to the glacier.  38 degrees.  I knew there’d still be ice.  And if I accidently fell through it on my way to the face of the glacier, so be it.  No one would have to know it was intentional.” She stopped for a second, picking an invisible piece of lint from her lap.   “But I get there, and heck, there’s not even a place to park.  Not a single spot.  Both lots at the glacier are full.  There’s people everywhere!  Stupid people.”

I smiled.  Silently thanking God for saving His kids.  Time and time again.

“So I drove over to another lake.  I’m thinking, ‘I’m gonna gun it, and drive off the edge of the road out into the lake.  I’ll drown, trapped in a submerged car, under the ice.’  But as I get to where I’m gonna start gunning it I see two people out walking on the bike path by the lake.  Right where I was  going to go in.  And, I mean, I wanted to end this.  But I didn’t want to take anybody else out with me.”

She stopped for a second, collecting her thoughts.  

“I’m speeding away from the lake.  At this point I didn’t even know where I was going next.  I was in a rage.  Frantic. And there’s this red truck. Bright red truck.  Right on my tail.  I don’t know what that guy was doing.  But he kept following me.  So, I just kept driving.”

The story went on, describing one or two more suicide plans all within a period of a couple hours.  And each time, through a series of events, by coincidence, each plan failed.  Until, at last, the tidal wave of rage subsided and she wound her way back home defeated.  

She was in trouble.  We talked about developing a new safety plan, one which might include hospitalization. We identified who all needed to be notified of how serious things had become for her.  Then we took steps to activate her new safety plan.  

And on my way home later I got to thinking about making a difference. About how often we go through life wondering if we’re doing anything that makes a difference in any way, in any life.  And my thoughts focused on the two people walking around the lake that Sunday.  And the guy driving around in the bright red truck. The people who drove out to the mountain that day probably for some kind of group get together.  And all those who filled every single spot in the parking lots at the glacier.  

There is a remarkable woman who is alive today because of you.  Because for some reason that Sunday afternoon you decided to go for a walk, or out for a drive, to the mountain, or the glacier.  And although you have no idea how important that decision was, thank you.  That Sunday you saved a life.  That Sunday you made the difference.