Service Saved My Life

Service saved my life. Serving other people and helping other people saved my life. Because otherwise, I would have killed myself.

As lots of people know, I dropped out of college when I was 20 years old and moved out to San Diego. That didn't go very well. I couldn't get a steady job, so I wound up working temp labor. I went flat broke.

I left San Diego and drove across the country sleeping in my car and working random odd jobs for money.

Made it back to PA late fall, when it was just starting to get cold and dark and everything was dying.

Just in time for what went down in my family lore as the Christmas War with my dad. Lots of cop cars in the driveway on Christmas Day 2001.

So I started off with depression. Then major depressive disorder. Then I stopped sleeping. Because I couldn't turn my mind off. I'd lay awake in bed all night thinking about everything that had gone wrong. How I'd thrown my life away. I was completely broke. I couldn't find a job. Why did I drop out of college. The credit card debt I racked up. My car was a piece of shit and kept breaking down. The girl I was in love with had moved on. My high school friends were off in college living their lives. My college friends were, likewise, off in college living their lives. And I was sprinting alongside the fucking highway in a red JC Penney Biggest Sale of the Year shirt with the sleeves cut off, looking for an alternator bolt that had somehow fallen out of my aforementioned shitty car.

I would wake up in the morning. Go to the gym. And then go look for a job. And I could not get a job anywhere. It was right after 9/11 in rural Pennsylvania and jobs were few and far between.

The depression came first. Then it got worse. Then I became an insomniac. And that made everything worse. Wild times. I was repping 405 on deadlift, sleeping maybe 1 hour a night, popping old school workout shit that had ephedra. I was a borderline psycho. Half stark raving mad.

I started going down this thought spiral. It would never get better. I would never get better. The rest of my life would go like that. I was all alone. Nobody could ever understand. There was no hope. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. So I could just kill myself. And it would all be over.

Then I started thinking about how I would do it. My mom and my brother couldn't find my body. I'd leave a note explaining everything. And then I'd go do it elsewhere. I basically started a countdown. Well, if shit doesn't get better in X days, I'm out.

So I'm an unmitigated psycho. But of a certain sort. So one morning I think to myself, "I have to try. I can't just end it like that. I have to see if there is something meaningful I can do."

So I hit the gym. I finish up in the gym, and go driving around. I've looked all over town for jobs. I've walked into all sorts of establishments. I've checked the newspaper for help wanted ads and sent in my resume.

So that morning, I decide that I'm not going to look for a job. I'm just going to look for a place that needs help.

There was this nursing home downtown in my hometown. And every morning when I'd drive by, this fat old guy in a flannel shirt would be sitting there on the porch of the nursing home .... big smile on his face ... waiving to everyone who walked or drove by.

So I drove by. And he was sitting there. And he waived. I turned into the parking lot and parked my car.

I walked up to the porch. He said, "Hey how you going, young man?"

He hadn't lost all of this marbles but he was trending that direction. His name was Andy. Used to be a wheat farmer. Great guy. I hung out with him on the porch for about 15 minutes and decided... yeah... I want to volunteer here.... if they'll have me.

So I walked into this nursing home. I went up to the front desk. Dreadlocks. Pretty jacked. 20 years old. And I ask this middle age lady working the desk if they need any help.... if they could use any volunteers. Her jaw basically dropped onto the floor.

She said, "Oh, yes, of course. Is there any particular type of volunteering you want to do?" I asked, "Well, what do you need?"

And you know what she said? She said, "Well, it would be so great if we had someone to just visit with the residents. You know, just go talk with them. Maybe read to them. We have one gentleman who just lost his eyesight. And he can't read the morning paper anymore, and that's absolutely devastating for him."

Was it God? Maybe. Probably.

I said, "Yes, I can do that. I can go around and talk with people. Just talk about their lives. Just spend some time with them. Read them the newspaper. Read them whatever they want."

From her face, you could tell that she was in shock. She had no idea who I was or why I was there. But she knew that I was there and that I meant it. All she said was, "Wonderful."

Then she introduced me to the 87 year old guy who had just lost his eyesight. And I read him the newspaper. Then she introduced me to Margaret -- who hadn't spoken in years, but apparently liked to have poetry read to her. So I sat and talked with Margret for a while (one sided conversation) and promised her I would bring my Norton's Anthology. Then Glenn, whose wife had just died.

And so I made that my job. I made that what I did. I went to that nursing home every morning. I read to people. I talked with people about their lives. I even started and ran a theatre group.

And after a couple weeks of volunteering there, I decided not to kill myself. I decided that there was something worthwhile I could do, even if I felt worthless. It gave me a reason to live.

In a very real way, service saved my life.