My day didn't go exactly as I had planned. My phone rang around noon, it was from the television station asking if I knew a man named "Steve".
"Yep - what's wrong?"
"Well, he is down here talking about a box he gave you... he's not stable."
Five minutes later I was in my car headed down to the station. The box was in the seat next to me.
I need to rewind a bit. A few weeks ago I picked up the phone in my office and was taken aback by how much pain was in the voice on the other end of the line. "Steve" was in a manic state, moving from one subject to the next only stopping when he was unable to speak through his sobs. I could follow his story - but I was really more concerned about him. It was obvious he was extremely intelligent. He was a veteran, serving our country overseas for several years. He was honorably discharged two decades ago but Steve was still fighting. The enemy was his mind.
He felt the "system" had not only let him down but had purposely destroyed his reputation which in turn has destroyed his life. Steve is someone who literally lives in a trailer down by the river. His trailer is 13 feet long - he has no running water. He has few friends, living alone with his dog. If his wood is not delivered on time, he will have to burn what few possessions he has as not to freeze to death. But no matter how cold it gets, Steve would never burn what's inside that box.
He has spent the past twenty years of his life methodically, obsessively collecting evidence to prove he was "wronged". He keeps all his "evidence" in that box. After our first conversation I made a phone call to someone Steve told me checks on him. At the time, I thought he was going to commit suicide. Steve's friend (an elderly man who spent his life counseling veterans. He was just put under hospice care) gave me a little more insight. The details of Steve's mental condition don't really matter. Nor does his criminal history. Steve's pain was so deep - the idea of just "ignoring" it wasn't an option for me. I called him back and we set up a time to meet.
Steve showed up at the office yesterday morning thirty minutes early. He was dressed in a three piece suit that either wasn't his - or had been his when we weighed about 40 pounds more. We went over the contents of that box for over two hours. And you know what??? It does look like Steve was wronged. But not the type of "wronged" that most people would hyper-focus on for twenty years. I told Steve I would do what I could to help him. He gave me the box so I could make copies. We set up a meeting for next Friday. He hugged me like a small child holds onto a stuffed animal and whispered in my ear, "I trust you."
When I pulled into the parking lot this morning, Steve was sitting in his truck sobbing. As I got out of the car he jumped out of his truck and embraced me in his arms. "Please don't call the police, I am so sorry, I am so sorry, I should have never said that on the phone." I stepped back, "Did you leave me an bad message?"
"Yes ma'am".
"Are you going to hurt me?"
"No".
"OK, let me be real clear. If you leave me another angry message.....I can not help you. I can not have you cross that boundary with me."
I walked back over to my car and got the box. I told him it probably too big of a step for him to give that to me. Steve was still crying telling me the box was his life. I put my hand on his shoulder to try and get him to calm down. "Steve, you are NOT that box." "That box is a bunch of paper about things that happened in the past - that box ISN'T who you are." Steve took a deep breath and told me, "this isn't how I wanted my life to turn out." I told him if he didn't get his mind OUT of that box - this is what his life was going to be.
We talked for a while longer until he had completely stopped crying. He again gave me a big embrace and again he apologized. I told him I would see him next week.
As I was driving back home I thought....what am I attached to? As a Buddhist, I try to constantly remind myself that nothing is permanent, everything is always changing. The idea of attaching ourselves to anything really doesn't make logically sense. If everything is always changing - we are always going to feel like we are losing something. But...we don't always make the logical choices.
"Yep - what's wrong?"
"Well, he is down here talking about a box he gave you... he's not stable."
Five minutes later I was in my car headed down to the station. The box was in the seat next to me.
I need to rewind a bit. A few weeks ago I picked up the phone in my office and was taken aback by how much pain was in the voice on the other end of the line. "Steve" was in a manic state, moving from one subject to the next only stopping when he was unable to speak through his sobs. I could follow his story - but I was really more concerned about him. It was obvious he was extremely intelligent. He was a veteran, serving our country overseas for several years. He was honorably discharged two decades ago but Steve was still fighting. The enemy was his mind.
He felt the "system" had not only let him down but had purposely destroyed his reputation which in turn has destroyed his life. Steve is someone who literally lives in a trailer down by the river. His trailer is 13 feet long - he has no running water. He has few friends, living alone with his dog. If his wood is not delivered on time, he will have to burn what few possessions he has as not to freeze to death. But no matter how cold it gets, Steve would never burn what's inside that box.
He has spent the past twenty years of his life methodically, obsessively collecting evidence to prove he was "wronged". He keeps all his "evidence" in that box. After our first conversation I made a phone call to someone Steve told me checks on him. At the time, I thought he was going to commit suicide. Steve's friend (an elderly man who spent his life counseling veterans. He was just put under hospice care) gave me a little more insight. The details of Steve's mental condition don't really matter. Nor does his criminal history. Steve's pain was so deep - the idea of just "ignoring" it wasn't an option for me. I called him back and we set up a time to meet.
Steve showed up at the office yesterday morning thirty minutes early. He was dressed in a three piece suit that either wasn't his - or had been his when we weighed about 40 pounds more. We went over the contents of that box for over two hours. And you know what??? It does look like Steve was wronged. But not the type of "wronged" that most people would hyper-focus on for twenty years. I told Steve I would do what I could to help him. He gave me the box so I could make copies. We set up a meeting for next Friday. He hugged me like a small child holds onto a stuffed animal and whispered in my ear, "I trust you."
When I pulled into the parking lot this morning, Steve was sitting in his truck sobbing. As I got out of the car he jumped out of his truck and embraced me in his arms. "Please don't call the police, I am so sorry, I am so sorry, I should have never said that on the phone." I stepped back, "Did you leave me an bad message?"
"Yes ma'am".
"Are you going to hurt me?"
"No".
"OK, let me be real clear. If you leave me another angry message.....I can not help you. I can not have you cross that boundary with me."
I walked back over to my car and got the box. I told him it probably too big of a step for him to give that to me. Steve was still crying telling me the box was his life. I put my hand on his shoulder to try and get him to calm down. "Steve, you are NOT that box." "That box is a bunch of paper about things that happened in the past - that box ISN'T who you are." Steve took a deep breath and told me, "this isn't how I wanted my life to turn out." I told him if he didn't get his mind OUT of that box - this is what his life was going to be.
We talked for a while longer until he had completely stopped crying. He again gave me a big embrace and again he apologized. I told him I would see him next week.
As I was driving back home I thought....what am I attached to? As a Buddhist, I try to constantly remind myself that nothing is permanent, everything is always changing. The idea of attaching ourselves to anything really doesn't make logically sense. If everything is always changing - we are always going to feel like we are losing something. But...we don't always make the logical choices.
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