Transcriber: Delia Cohen Reviewer: Peter Van de Ven
Please picture a six-year-old boy
who like most boys his age is a complete Mama's boy.
One night, while his mother was bathing,
she calls out to him
and instructs him to bring her a plastic bag.
The boy readily obliges her,
as he always tries to do anything he can to help his mother.
Now imagine the horror he feels
when moments later he sees his mother's body
lying limp in the bathtub
with that same plastic bag that he had given her over her head.
Never would he had helped her that night,
had he known he'd be assisting her in an attempt to commit suicide.
And although my mother survived,
I couldn't help but to ask myself, "Why?"
And "Why?" is a commonly asked question among friends and family members
after a loved one has committed such an act.
Why would they do such a thing?
Why didn't they say anything?
Why didn't I see this happening?
For those of us who found ourselves asking this exact question,
I can only assume
we'd like to believe we could have done or said something
in order to prevent such a horrific act from happening.
And sadly, that may be true,
but ultimately,
the one thing that can prevent a person from doing so on their own
is the feeling of hope.
And when I came to prison in 2003,
I didn't feel that hope,
and I thought suicide would be the solution to my problems.
I thought it would alleviate the sense of shame
and the guilt that I felt from taking someone else's life;
help me to avoid the potential fate
of having to serve more time in prison than I've been alive;
and also to eliminate all thoughts and feelings
of never again being able to live a meaningful and purposeful life.
I was at my lowest point,
but it was the pounding of my heart
that stopped me from following through on that act.
But still,
living with those thoughts and feelings
seemed to be impossible.
But since that moment,
thanks to a friend giving me a typewriter,
typing has really helped me to deal with such thoughts and feelings,
as I will oftentimes type just to relieve my frustration.
Now, ironically, in doing so,
I found myself even more frustrated at times
because I was so horrible at typing.
It was largely due to the fact that I would type fast,
because I was concerned
with trying to sound like a professional who could type 100 words a minute,
but I wasn't.
In fact, I probably made 100 mistakes a minute.
But nonetheless, the mistakes that I made didn't matter as much
because the letters I typed would never reach their intended recipient,
let alone see the light of day.
And on this particular day,
I was typing up my response
to a woman who had told me that being married would be impossible.
And as I read over the response,
I noticed I misspelled the word "impossible,"
and it read as "I'm possible."
Now I believe that this is one of the few instances
where being a horrible typist has its advantages,
because this type of error allowed me to see the word "impossible" differently.
And this was kind of a big deal
as that word has been associated
with so many negative experiences in my life,
including those that made me want to give up.
But there was something about seeing the words "I'm possible" -
although grammatically incorrect -
that made me feel as if giving up isn't an option
and life is always worth living
despite how bad things may appear to be.
So I now associate the words "I'm possible"
with the amazing experiences in my life
and refer to them as "I'm possible" moments,
simply because I'm possible
of turning the seemingly impossible into a golden opportunity
as long as I don't give up.
And this is something that everyone can do.
And despite my circumstances,
I've been fortunate enough to experience quite a few "I'm possible" moments,
Perhaps the most noteworthy one I've experienced this far
has been the meeting of my beautiful and lovely wife Renee
and getting married in 2014.
(Applause)
Thank you.
My baby.
This woman's presence in my life
has been completely euphoric.
So imagine how excited I was
when she revealed to me in June of 2016
that she was pregnant with our child.
(Applause)
Let me tell you, I was thrilled.
You know, I always wanted to be a father.
However, the joy I felt was short-lived,
when a few weeks later doctors suggested
that my wife -
who has congestive heart failure -
that she should terminate the pregnancy
because it would be impossible for her to survive the birth
and our child's life would be in danger as well.
My wife and I essentially had to make a life-or-death decision,
and we chose life.
And as a result, on December 9th, 2016,
our 9-pound, 11-ounce baby boy was born.
(Applause)
Oh, and by the way, my wife survived the birth as well.
(Applause)
I believe that this "I'm possible" moment
best illustrates what happens if we don't give up
and we choose life.
Case in point:
Had I given up in 2003,
I wouldn't be able to experience the endless joy
that my family brings me today.
There are approximately one million people worldwide who commit suicide a year.
That's almost one suicidal death every 40 seconds.
Sadly, these individuals would never be able to experience
the plentiful "I'm possible" moments that life has to offer.
Sadly, there are countless others
who are either struggling with the thoughts of such acts
or has already attempted to do so,
as people are in desperate need
of the feeling of hope that will inspire them to live
and remind them that they have a purpose for doing so
despite the impossible moments of trauma, adversity, depression, and hopelessness
that they're facing.
And I can't help but to think of a young lady
who attended our Youth Assistance Program
who was dealing with the impossible moments of her life,
and I would now like to read a response
that she sent just a few weeks after attending our session.
And it reads:
"I know that I didn't ask any questions during this trip,
but I would like to say thank you for these conversations we had.
I was really affected by the suicide conversation
because that is something
that I have dealt with for about 9 to 10 years of my life.
I had a horrible childhood growing up that affected me physically and mentally.
I tried to get help so many times,
and it never worked.
But hearing someone say that I'm worth it and meant for great things
really meant a lot to me.
I grew up in a really bad home,
where my parents fought 24/7
and my dad constantly put me down about myself.
After years of this,
I tried to take my life a few times but failed.
I stopped trying to get help
because no one understood my situation or the trauma I faced growing up.
But for a small second,
that conversation we had made me feel the smallest bit of hope,
which I haven't felt in a long time.
So thank you all for everything."
(Applause)
This young lady was in need of the feeling of hope,
so I shared with her what I felt the night I decided to give up.
It was a feeling that reminded me
we have purpose
and we should always choose life.
And I would now like to share with everyone what that hope was
by asking everyone to please place their hands over their hearts.
(Heartbeat sounds)
Feel that?
Know what that's called?
It's called our purpose.
It's a reminder that we're alive for a reason.
Our heartbeat is the hope that we could feel each and every day
that should inspire us to live and never give up.
Truth is, if what we're going through hasn't caused our heart to stop beating,
then neither should we.
We must continue to love ourselves and love life.
In fact, the next time we're faced with an impossible situation
and we're thinking about giving up,
we should place a hand over our heart,
be reminded that we have purpose,
and say to ourselves, "I'm possible."
Thank you.
(Applause)