Life is what happens until it doesn't

I've started seeing a life coach; that is, we speak on the phone because she's in Australia and I'm in Hong Kong. It makes me feel very grown up, a little self indulgent and a bit of a wanker. Nevertheless, I feel it's a step in the right direction and I'm noticing some improvement in my state of mind already. We have our forth session today. I'm looking forward to it.

Last week we touched on the the symmetry between what is happening right now and what happened exactly ten years ago. Thoughts of suicide. Not mine, I'm too much of a pragmatist for that.

My life coach has a system and an arsenal of tools at her disposal for getting to the deeper stuff. We don't know each other socially, so I don't need to edit. I feel safe and unjudged. 

Think about significant memories or events or people who have had an impact. What feelings can you identify that don't feel quite appropriate? Can you do that?

Er..No. Not not readily at least.

My mind drew a blank, but we got talking about the last time I felt lost at sea. It was ten years ago. I had just been promoted to a very senior and responsible job heading up a large team across the country. I was thirty and considered way too young for the role; but I knew I had the credentials and that I could do it well. And I did.

I set about defining roles and responsibilities
Filling vacant positions with well qualified staff.
I developed vision mission statements, work plans and time tables
I took it very seriously; it and myself.

One ordinary Friday, David the smartest and funniest of my new recruits told me he was looking forward to the weekend and watching his son's football game. The following Monday he didn't come to work. His son had walked into the garage to find his daddy hanging from a beam. He liked cross country skiing and talking about his family.

When I heard the news I fainted and crumbled. I remember the electric blue flecked nylon pile below the printer. I cried and cried for weeks after. I hardly knew him but I grieved; for him, for his family and for myself. I felt he had let me down. I felt ashamed for feeling that he had let me down.

My colleague Richard was going through a separation at the time. His wife had hair on her teeth and didn't like me much, most likely because she was suspicious that he did. He made a pass at a tax convention in Wellington New Zealand. It caught me off guard because I had only ever thought of him as Richard from Budgeting with the transparent skin and small hands.

We didn't become intimate, but we did gradually become closer friends. Once he had confessed his love he seemed to think he could tell me anything. I don't believe he really loved me, he hardly knew me, it was more that he had hooked onto me as some unattainable idol. I was flattered and burdened by it. I hope I didn't exploit his feelings for my own gratification, I don't think I did, but perhaps I did...maybe just a bit.

After David's funeral Richard told me that he often thought about killing himself. We talked about what a selfish act it would be, how his children would suffer, how there is always another solution, a much better solution. He started smoking pot, popping pills and hanging out at folk festivals near Byron Bay. A mid-life crisis I thought. He seemed to think this was cool but it didn't really fit over his accountant's woolen vest. He met someone and seemed happy, or happier. His wife met someone new a well.

One day Richard posted a bunch of letters to people he felt had wronged him and flung himself off a bridge. I'm told it was neither quick nor painless, but he succeeded.

His ghost followed me to Europe. For a long time afterwards I would see him looking back at me in shop windows in Florence or boarding the metro in Rome.

I never cried about Richard because I was too angry and I realise now that I'm still too angry. He wasted my time. There, how's that for an inappropriate thought?