My Maria

I find that in these most trying times; where charitable acts are most often made out of hubris and ego. The kindness of men video recorded and regurgitated en masse as viral sensations. Where humanity, Americans especially have socially evolved into a kind of cold indifference to the wanton suffering around them. Where we give sentiment but far too rarely action as a way to sate the guilt of the human condition.

I believe the most genuine and honest form of intervention and goodwill comes from unintended action. Small coincidences and happenstance that might indirectly change the course of a life, a nation, or even history itself. And it’s during one of these rather small and fucking uncanny moments of which I speak that someone saved my life without intent, or ever even realizing it.

It was one of the lowest moments in my life; I’d recently went through a horrible breakup. Lost a job that had meant much more to me than that. It was a way of life, a window through which I was exposed to a world much bigger than myself. And with this loss I had lost many many important people in my life, men (and women) that had raised me, mentored me and for better or worse helped carve me into the man I am today. I’d also very recently discovered that I had a very rare condition that made me wildly different than most people; something that had always caused me to feel like an outsider in this world and had inadvertently caused a lot of loneliness and hardship all throughout my time on this earth. I discovered that a lot of my personality quirks and physiological/mental differences weren’t quirks at all but symptoms of this condition. Which was a very hard thing for me to reconcile at the time.

I was dealing with a crisis of identity. And all of these recent misfortunes were related, were intimately tied together. I felt, and sometimes still do that because of the type of person I am my life was never going to be easy or peaceful. I saw a long road behind and ahead of me; a road I really didn’t feel was necessary to see to it’s end.

And as I thought about these things and felt a soul crushing weight bearing down on me I was staring at a Makarov Russian 9mm lying on my coffee table.

As I stared at that gun many of the things you might think would pass through the mind of a man contemplating suicide infact did not.

The main thing I was thinking about was the size of the round within the guns chamber.

“Goddamnit that’s a small bullet” I thought to myself as I pondered the probability of actually succeeding to put myself out of my own misery.

I imagined pulling the trigger and failing in that too. I envisioned myself as a vegetable, pissing and shitting in a bag for the rest of my life. Trapped within the dim witted prison of my own mind. Slobbering all over myself and communicating with satisfactory grunts and whinnies.

“Well I can’t really decide if that’d be better or worse”, I’d thought to myself.

Then I looked down the barrel of the gun once more and thought about what might happen if the round bounced off of my skull and left me only partially brain damaged.

I saw myself in a future as a mentally handicapped survivor of attempted suicide. No longer myself but a lisping man baby, a spokesman for suicide prevention like one of those maimed infantry IED casualties or burn victims.

Touring the country a short lived celebrity of pity and winner of life’s cruelest participation trophy. Valued for continuing to exist with an openly visible pain young children point and gawk at and men and women see only through the eyes of sympathy. I saw myself giving a TED talk type lecture about how I get out of fucking bed in the morning while wearing the shit eating grin of a person that had blasted the best and worst parts of himself out of the back of his own head.

I groaned to myself, “That definitely was not better.”

Then suddenly I heard a loud knock at the door...

Now, before I continue there’s something that you should know about me.

All throughout my life; through every coming of age, every hardship, every life experience within the confines of society. There’s been a methhead in the background geeking out, stealing shit, or generally acting out with a chemical induced insanity.

I don’t know why particularly. In part I chalk it up to growing up in a poor rural environment where meth is as prevalent as cotton fields in Alabama. But what’s more than that it’s almost as if during these instances; these hard times of deep introspection the universe sends me a divine mascot of pure ignorance and dumb bullshit to remind me not to take life so seriously.

Lady: HEY! H-HEY! HEEEY!

During one of these instances I’m standing in line at a local gas station, minding my own business and thinking quietly to myself as I hear a gravely female voice yelling from behind me.

I turn to look and lo’ and behold it’s a scraggly dressed methhead with messed up hair holding a bunch of packets of individual hotdog buns shouting at me.

Lady: I’M HAVIN’ A COOKOUT!

She drops one of the hotdog buns onto the ground.

Lady: I NEED.....TEN HOTDOG BUNS! BUT THEY ONLY SELL EIGHT! THESE ARE CHEAPER RIGHT!?!?!

I speak back towards her laughing, “Ma’am I’ve got no clue, honestly. Maybe it’s buy one get nine free.”

Lady: WHERE THE HELLS THE SAUERKRAUT!?! I FORGOT THE FUCKIN SAUERKRAUT!

And so now I’m back in another time, listening to that knock on the door and looking at the time. It’s late, around ten pm and I expected no visitors. Not the girl that broke my heart, nor any friends or family who would know or care about how I was feeling, and I planned on dying on an empty stomach.

But I did live in a shitty neighborhood, so I grabbed my gun and looked through the peep hole of the door and through it I saw yet another leather faced lady methhead.

“What...the...fuck!?!” I muttered to myself as I opened the door and held the gun behind it because I figured if this was a robbery whoever was dumb enough to try picked the perfect night to do it.

Lady: HI MISTER! SORRY TO BOTHER YOU SO LATE BUT I NEED TO ASK YOU A QUESTION!

Me: ......Yes?

Lady: WELL, I LIVE DOWN THE ROAD AND IM ASKIN’ AROUND LOOKIN FOR SOMEBODY!

Let it be known I was fairly familiar with the area and I’d never seen this lady in my life but then again methheads have a kind of identical nature about them that makes it harder to discern one from another. Atleast for me, they’re like their own little demographic.

She pulls out an old Nokia type flip phone and shows me a blurry picture of an unidentifiable male.

Lady: IM LOOKIN FOR THIS ASSHOLE! HE STOLE MY PHONE AND I NEED TO FIND HIM! HAVE YOU SEEN HIM!?!?

I look down at the phone and then up at the lady, then down at the phone again.

Me: ....What??

I look back at the lady and now I’m angry.

Me: You’re using a phone to show me a blurry assed picture of a guy that stole your phone to find your phone?! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!?!

Lady: ...YES!

Me: WHAT THE F-

GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY YARD!

I slam the door in her face, throw the gun on the table and sit on the couch pulling my hair out and screaming. I can’t even shoot myself without some stupid shit happening.

My mind is filled with a bewildered rage as I sit cursing and yelling about dumbass methheads being attracted to me like bees to nectar.

After a short while I start to realize that my fixation on ending my life had been replaced with frustration. I’m not even consumed with the same kind of sadness anymore. In my fit of rage I’d completely forgotten about it.

And as I sat on that couch I thought about the randomness of it all. It was like god had sent a fucked up emissary to distract me at my lowest. And I didn’t even believe in god. Never been religious whatsoever. But I do recognize fate slapping me in the face with it’s dick when it does happen.

I felt indebted to her in a way, almost sorry for being kind of an asshole.

My geeked out guardian angel, a lifelong running joke. Fates poke to my ribcage. Oh divine providence!

The universes backhanded sense of humor.

My Maria of methamphetamine!

So I began to laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.

That laughter turned into tears and I cried harder than I had in a very long time.

I know some might not consider any of this “charity” or an “act of kindness”.

And maybe it isn’t but it’s in these kinds of moments (of which I’ve had many) that I am kind of “righted” and reconsider my state of mind.

It is my sincere belief that subconsciously we’re all connected and through the actions of a single person regardless of intent or purpose can come great good or evil.

That maybe it’s these things that are more profound than that of any wealthy philanthropist or bullshit clickbait social media influencer. Maybe it speaks more of what it means to be human than any Christian trying to buy their way into heaven or any sinner seeking redemption.

It’s the invisible bonds that cannot be accurately defined or displayed. And for that I am thankful, see it as a gift.

Whether coincidence or divine intervention or fate, I don’t really know and I don’t really think that’s what’s important. What’s important is that we notice these things, appreciate them, and hold onto them and that’s what this is.