Without getting into too much detail, lest I give away who she is, because yes, she is a real person, I had the opportunity to meet her through my job . . . I was able to quite literally give her a gift. When I called her to tell her, she was beyond grateful, I made her literally cry because she was so grateful for what I had given her. A school coming up, the single mom needed the money.
Some back ground . . . she is beautiful, gorgeous, in fact she has done some modeling work. It is absolutely mind blowing how pretty she is. When I spoke with her, she confided something to me. She is bi polar. Yes, this beautiful, stunning woman also has this neurological demon, this inability to control the happiness, the sadness, the rage, the despondence in her own pretty head.
We have become sort of pen pals since that brief conversation. I felt it only fair to tell her my own secret. That, though we deal with different things, I can relate to the madness, the waking up each day not knowing if it will control you or if you will maintain your sanity. It is a sort of David and Goliath battle every day. It seems impossible, at least highly unlikely. Few understand, so meeting some one who does is quite the amazing thing.It is reassuring to know that we are not alone in this ocean of chaos.
Even just a few years ago, her looks alone would have been reason for me to hate her . . . such a paradox. She would have been the enemy, because she most certainly would have been mean to me because of the way I look. I have learned a lot in the last few years, but that moment last week reinforced something for me: The most beautiful girls are not necessarily the happiest. The way you look on the outside does not define how you feel.Happiness is a choice, not a gift or prize won by a genetic lottery.We have been programmed to equate happiness with beauty and vice-versa. I learned that in all of my advertising classes. People buy things because they see people on TV, beautiful and happy using certain products. It is a science, but it's not rocket science.
She told me that she can tell I am a fighter. That meant a lot. I think I am. I am here. I am not addicted to drugs or alcohol, I have met and married my soul mate, I have two beautiful kids and a full time job. A home, my car is paid off. So I am not physically what I want to be . . . is that really what is most important? Or is it how I project myself to others, and how I change the world and lives of everyone I meet for the better?
