Always, in my toolkit, is a box of single-edge razor blades. They’re incredibly useful, for scraping, for shaving wood or fiberglass, for stripping and trimming wires. The other day, I was using a razor blade to work on a computer power cord, and I found myself almost overwhelmed by a cold rush of fear. I actually dropped it, as if it was burning my fingers, as if it was a snake that would lash out and strike. Just picking up this simple tool, this inanimate object, gave me such a horrid, cold feeling that I can’t really describe it.
Why? Because the lowly blade was going to help me, back in the dark, to find a way to stop hurting. Scary, to look back now, and see how close I came, more than once, to permanent darkness- for although I do believe in God, and heaven, I’m not so sure about getting there personally.
Thank God, thank Frank Warren and PostSecret, and Cassie of the 1-800-suicide story on that website, I’m not in that darkness, not now. No, these days, although I have my moments (probably too many of them), I’m able to laugh, love and function, I can get on with my days most of the time, and I can continue to seek out ways to shove the Black Thing back and away.
And, best of all- I can pick up that blade, that bit of shiny stainless steel, and use my hands to guide it, and repair a computer cord with it- and when done, put it away where it belongs, a useful tool that doesn’t have any larger place in my life, anymore.
And that’s a good feeling.