Ellie and Me

When I was 5 years old my dad was stationed in Africa and when he returned from his tour of duty he came home with a present for my sister, brother and myself. Three handcarved elephants. The only problem was that mine was tiny and Cindy’s and Paul’s were big. My hands went immediately to my hips as I demanded to know why my elephant was so tiny compared to the other two. My dad looked at me and said, “You’re the baby of the family.” All I could do was watch as that term slid down my boiling hot mind like thick slimy okra and it puddled in my head. Yes, there were advantages to being the baby of the family but for some reason all families deem it necessary to remind the youngest constantly of his or her birth, order, defect. With my wounded heart in my hand; I starred at this pithy runt that slanderously had my name printed on its underside. The creature was handed limp and rejected back to my dad as stormed out of the room facing what I clearly already knew to be true at the time; I was less loved and less equal to him than my bigger siblings.

Year after year that elephant had the nerve to stare down at me from inside my mom’s china cabinet while I was eating. Its puny body laboring under loose anorexic wood skin had me dreaming of sneaking into the dining room late one night and casting it into the trash where all the other less loved things belonged.  It was spared only by my voiced complaints made loud and too often while sitting at the table under its wooden stare. There was no doubt that I would be the only one hauled in for lineup for such a heist as no one in the house loathed that animal as much as me. The other two giant mammoths with their bloated well-fed tummies so fat and so loved didn’t even bother looking down at my runt replica. Perfectly capturing my feelings at the time as the one who couldn’t stay up as late as the others, couldn’t have as much cake as the others, couldn’t watch certain movies like the others could, couldn’t talk on the phone, couldn’t walk to the store alone and the list of couldn’t-s piled up so wobbly high that I was sure I would die before making it into CAN-land.


When we grew up and moved out of the house my mom gave each of us our elephant. When the time came for me to leave I refused to take mine. Even as an adult that tiny runt crawled underneath my skin as a reminder of my repression and first brush with discrimination over something I could no more help than I could move the sun, my birth order!

Fast forward a few years and four children later, except for the oldest; my children at one time or another were imprisoned in Couldn’t-land far removed from their older sibling(s) privileged spot and I was growing a greater understanding of family dynamics . One day when I was visiting mom’s, I opened the china cabinet door, and, for the second time in my life; I picked up Ellie, a name she was bestowed with later. Turning her over and looking at my name, I thought about how much protection goes into taking care of the baby of the family (and how we tend to belong to our siblings in a very different way in childhood). The many times my sister or brother sat next to me when I was afraid during a thunderstorm, brought me candy from a birthday party I was too little to go to or comforted me when the adults in the house weren’t acting like adults came to the forefront of my heart. This began the shift in me about what Ellie represented. Ellie went home with me that day and now sits on a shelf that overlooks my dining room table. She has finally gained her rightful place in my life and we are both happier. Occasionally, I glance up to see her staring at me. Gone are those old childhood memories filled with hurt that she was so little, and in their place, a knowing smile. I'm still watched over.

Elephants have been showing up in my life ever since. Like the time I was cleaning out a dear friend’s home after she died. It was one of those hard days when grief had its cold hands around my throat so tight my heart couldn't breathe. I bumped into a wall unit and a tiny ivory elephant that I had never seen before fell into my hands (she's next to Ellie on the shelf now but she is not the only story about this beautiful animal unexpectedly showing up when I needed to be reminded that I'll be okay). The elephant is my totem animal so clearly understood by Native Americans. It represents my personal and spiritual identity and I continue to study its  meaning to better understand myself. Ellie is my constant reminder that there will never come a time when I am afraid, hurting, lonely or lost that I will not have a loving spirit gathering circumstances around me for my guidance, care and protection.

Mona McPherson

Karen

Every Holiday season I’m reminded of Karen, a beautiful soft spoken woman who was addicted to everything involving cats. I was working for the state’s Environmental Services department as a Systems Analyst and had been assigned to replace all our old computers with new ones before the end of the year. My second attempt at catching Karen, an Environmental Scientist, in her office was a success. My eyes darted around the room in full understanding as to why the IT department called her the cat lady; there was not an inch of her office walls that were not covered with funny pictures of cats and kittens. Karen was in a heated personal conversation when she motioned me into her office. It was an uncomfortable moment as I realized the nature of the conversation but Karen covered the phone long enough to say that her boss told her to stop everything when I showed up and let me replace her computer. With apprehension, I pulled the cart in and began unpacking the new Dell. Karen got up from her desk and tucked herself into the corner next to a large window. The sound of the blinds being opened mingled within her painful questions to the voice on the other end of the phone.

The rain that day magnified as Karen began pleading with her husband to not leave her and my heart began to freeze to the floor beneath her desk as I was trying to remove her pc tower. All that came into view was her profile at the window crumbling under his reply. The look on her face answered that question before she said another word. Her husband had been having an affair for months while she cared for her sick mother. He decided to drain all their accounts without paying the utilities or mortgage letting her know that he realized she’d be getting some inheritance; Karen had lost her mom just a couple of weeks before; I knew because I remember the card that went around the office for all of us to sign. Her husband decided that she could catch up on all her bills with that meager amount and any late fees as well, and, find another place to live as he knew she couldn’t afford their home on only her income. Her response was hard and fast explaining some of their shared poor financial decisions along with some very choice words about the way he was leaving her; it was clear she did not agree. The phone slammed down so hard on the receiver that even though I could anticipate it, I still jumped.

Karen sat on the couch across from her desk and quietly fell apart. The old computer was placed on the cart and I sat down at her desk hooking up the new Dell. My pager went off and I needed to call my boss to give an update on my progress. The IT department had dinner plans before we were to go on our two week Holiday break. The phone was still warm from Karen’s hot conversation as I punched in the numbers. When my supervisor answered I stated that I’d not be able to make it due to software loading issues; there were no issues with the software but I couldn’t leave with Karen being so upset. She needed someone, and from her previous conversation, her soft place to fall had just knocked her to her knees as hard as he could. I told Karen that the software would take a while to load and banked on the fact that she didn’t have a clue that I was already done. There was a roll of soft thunder lasting longer than normal as I quietly began my conversation with her. She spoke deeply and without reservation as we discussed her life. Karen knew her most pressing need was to pay the mortgage and utilities to make to the next month and then she’d begin putting her life back together. She asked me at the end of our conversation if I’d let her keep the kitten screen saver that was no longer allowed, I agreed as long as she was discreet. Before leaving for break our office collected more than enough to take care of her mortgage and utility payments and I had put it on my calendar to go visit her the Monday that we all came back.

That Monday morning I was called into my supervisor’s office; I can still smell the burnt coffee leaping out of his cup as he told me that Karen committed suicide and that I would need to go reset her computer. A co-worker unlocked her door choking back tears and telling me the whole department was in shock. The first thing I noticed were the three boxes containing all of Karen's personal items setting on the couch. The only thing not packed was the picture of her and her husband on their last vacation; I turned it face down as I passed it. Turning on Karen's computer, the silly cat pops up and it made me smile, sadly. My mind racing through every inch of our conversation just two weeks before to see what I missed. How could I not know she was suicidal?! Nothing made sense as I logged on and wiped her settings out. Walking over to the window, I grabbed the line and drew the blinds shut that she’d opened for the last time. I’m not sure how long I stood there in her dark office but I remember my confusion and how badly I wanted to know what I had missed.

Karen crossed my life for a brief 3 hours, yet, each Holiday she comes back to remind me to take note of those in my life who are facing challenges this Holiday. There was nothing about Karen that would have led me to believe she was so close to suicide. She was upset, rightly so, and did mentioned that the Holidays would make this harder with it being the first without her mom and now the loss of her husband, but, we truly never know how deeply another person is hurting unless we open ourselves up and dare to ask probing questions. Nor should we assume that a person has a support system of friends and family to lean on. A very simple question about who she has in place to help her through her time of need might have been all it took. Had I known she didn't have anyone, I would have insisted on getting her number and staying in touch those two weeks.

Holiday depression is a very common occurrence! If you know someone who has endured major life changes this year, or, who are simply not acting in their normal way, please, start a conversation--you may be their only lifeline.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline Phone Number

• 1-800-273-8255

Mona McPherson