"Joy is internal and eternal." ~ R. Olivier

Over the years, I've known several people who've ended up committing suicide, in one way or another. The first one was named Jeff. The moment I met him and shook his hand, I saw the pain in his eyes, and knew he'd kill himself and that there was nothing I could do to make him feel better. We worked together one summer repairing chipped, beveled glass entry doors of overblown mansions and the cracked stained glass windows of tiny, old country churches ~ guess which ones I enjoyed most? The ones painted in deep, rich tones of blood red and golden light with contentedness and peachy skin tones, telling stories to the simple peasants like me, with paintings, examples, resurrecting the sunlight into heavenly streamers and ribbons crawling across wooden floors.

The second person I knew was named Spencer. I knew when I met him, he was too nice to survive in this world, I thought. "I can't watch this," I thought, not getting involved in his life but wanting to, wanting to help him. Scared of him as I saw myself. One night, a girl of not much worth broke his heart, left him right after his mother died from cancer. So, with a bravery and weakness I can and can't imagine, taught that it's a sin to end your own life, he put his driver's license in one back pocket, his birth certificate in the other, and threw himself in front of a train.

Many people I have known since then haven't died, but they are living zombies. Not long ago, so was I ~ zombied ~ I knew it, it almost killed me, and it scared me. That slow, droning feeling that life "just sucks" and has no point: relatives and few really close friends along the way drank themselves and everyone around them into living hell. They're still alive, but really, they're not there anymore. It surprises me, but at the same time, it doesn't. I wish I could help everyone. But I can't. But.

I'm not sure what my point is except that I know how hard it is to remain positive or to actually be positive and change your outlook on life. Honestly as always, I've been so close to never feeling one more positive thought ever again that I wanted to punch people in the mouth for even suggesting it. At this point, you need to stop and think, "What am I thankful for?" Think of one thing. If you have only one thing, then you have something. If you have zero, then search and create one thing to be thankful for. Because if you have one, odds are, you will soon be able to count up three, then seven. Then, announce them out loud. Silently acknowledging your counted blessings is good, but fighting back and throwing them out to the universe is the key. You will be heard, and don't let anyone take that away from you.

Life is hard. Being sick is hard. Being well is hard. Being alive is hard. Being dead is hard on everyone else. Patience and peace is hardest of all. When you feel terrible enough, at the end of your rope clinging onto the unravelling knot, remember that "happiness is external, and joy comes from within." These words came to me today through a talk by Ross Olivier. "Never give up, never say die," is what my father said after every surgery and every treatment. Tell yourself that every day.