Hi, Mom!

Happy birthday.

So here's the song. Listen to it while you read. Over and over again if you need to. Pay attention to the lyrics - they're important.

I'll tell the story as closely as I can, but it's been a few years, so I can't promise perfect accuracy.

When I was in early high school, I threatened suicide a few times, holding knives to my throat and screaming at my mom until she would break down crying and have to lock herself in her room.
Needless to say, my parents - although divorced at the time - were worried.
They got together and agreed at least long enough to send me off to a rehab center in south central Oregon - right about here, to be exact.
I was there for just short of a year. I think I talked to my mom on the phone for the first time since leaving right around the second month - the staff had to forcibly end the call when I made her cry, if I remember right. I think it took another month or so to get to the point where I was able to get to the end of a complete phone call with her.

She came down from the Portland area to celebrate my 15th birthday with me in the reception office.

A while later, I had my first visit with my dad, and eventually, they even let me go off-campus.

The whole thing was an educational experience, to say the least.
Pray that you never have to see your best friend carve obscenities half an inch deep into their forearms with pieces of shattered obsidian.
Pray that you never have to see your roommate and surrogate little brother put his hand through a double paned window, and then break every bone left in the mutilated hand by repeatedly punching walls until staff members wrestle him to the floor and restrain him.
Pray that you never have to worry for days about your surrogate sister after she swallows a full bottle of Tylenol and gets rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night.
Pray that you never have to see one roommate beat another unconscious with a lead pipe or choke another nearly to death with a length of chain.
Pray that you never have to listen to a 17 year old boy's story of stabbing another boy 40 plus times over a drug deal gone bad and leaving him bleeding in the street, never knowing his fate...and then go to sleep in the same room as the first boy that night.
Pray that you never have to help wrestle your closest friend to the ground when he has a nightmare of his time in the high-risk psychiatric ward of a mental hospital, and takes one boy and two fully grown men to restrain him until he calms down.
Pray that you never have to wipe the tears off that same boy's face until he can be trusted to get back up again without harming himself or others.
Pray that you never have to run a mile over uneven ground in a Southern Oregon heatwave to save the life of a boy dying of dehydration after running away.
Pray that you never have to hold your best friend's wrists shut until the paramedics arrive.
Pray that you never have to stand between your violently paranoid 17 year old drug addict roommate with a knife and the unarmed staff members he wants to kill, hoping to God your friendship with him will be enough to keep him from going through you to get to them.

There are other stories, other memories. Most of them are ugly...but as always, there are a few good ones that make it all worth it. There's a lot of friendship, a lot of pain, and a lot of love. There's also a lot of learning.

Long story short, though, I came home at the end of the tenth month. I've still got the "graduation present" I got from my mom - it's actually sitting on the bookshelf in my bedroom here in California as I type this.
It's the CD single for "I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack, and the illustrated hardcover booklet with the lyrics. It's probably one of the most meaningful gifts I've ever recieved - the only thing that even comes close is my black belt.

I've been broke, I've been homeless, I've been addicted, I've been a cutter, I've been beaten up, I've been abused, I've been ostracized and isolated, I've been robbed, I've been suicidal (even tried it a few times), I've been hopeless, I've been friendless...
But whenever I get down...well, what the hell. There's no harm in dancing one last time.

Right?

I Hope You Dance, by Lee Ann Womack.
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed

I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me that you'll give fate a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making

Don't let some hell-bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who)
I hope you dance
(Wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone)

I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
Dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder)
I hope you dance
(Where those years have gone)

(Tell me who)
I hope you dance
(Wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone)



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Now playing: Lee Ann Womack - I Hope You Dance