THE DIARIES : NOVEMBER
I wrote this song in September of 2007. I felt like I was supposed to fast and about a little over a week into the fast I got pieces of this song, the first two verses and then refrain. The days that followed put me into a hopeless state. It was the first time I ever felt hopeless in my life and it wasn’t just about a few things, it seemed to be about everything. It was a super dark place and all I could think about was needing to keep myself separate from my feelings and just “make it through September”. That’s what the song was telling me so that is what I would do. September ended. My fast ended.
I didn’t think much about the song until November. November 16, 2007 a friend committed suicide. I hadn’t seen him since September. In fact, he asked me for something that I could not give him the last time we saw each other. I happen to be sitting at the exact same table where he had asked when I found out about his tragic death. It was as if everything went back to the day he asked me and then an unraveling of past conversations. It felt unreal and then too real depending on which way I thought about it. I reached out to his best friend right away to find out if it was real. It was.
I went to bed that night not knowing what to say to God. All I could ask was “why?” with no reply in any form.
A piece of the back story:
I moved to New York City in 2004 and this guy was one of the first people I met that would end up being part of my “New York” journey. We both felt like we were “supposed” to be in New York, like so many others for different reasons.
I remember the night we had our first “real conversation”. He said he wanted to hear “my deal”, why I seemed to be ok no matter what was going on. He told me I had something that he knew he needed. And although many could read and take that in different ways, as he told me, he was serious, and I knew exactly what he was talking about. But this wasn’t something I could give him. It was something I could tell him. The getting would be between him and God.
Usually I let other people spill their “deals” first. Who are you? What do you believe in? Why? What’s your passion? I like to hear where someone is coming from and why they think the way they do. If they want to hear mine I share the pieces that I think are relevant to the conversation. In his case I knew it was different. I felt like I was really supposed to share my entire story with him. So I did… everything.
I shared my experiences of when I was little that made me question God. My experience of realizing Jesus was real. Testing Jesus and asking for signs. I shared different things I was told along the way… some things I was ok with while other things would take the passing of time. If they were meant to be they will be. Testing what I was being told through signs that followed for proof that it was meant to be, unsure of how I felt about them. This eventually brought me to New York. Where I now found myself telling him I had no clue what was going to happen but just knew I was supposed to be here.
His response was…”Whoever it is that is talking to you… that’s in me.” He went on to tell me that something inside him was telling him things too. And it was what brought him to New York as well. He was from Detroit. He had gotten to the point of thinking life was pointless and had attempted to take his own life. He woke up the following morning knowing he should have died. But all he knew was there was something inside telling him to move to New York. Figuring he was alive for a reason he decided to follow this thing. It was the same thing that was now telling him he was supposed to quit his band to focus more on acting. The same thing telling him he needed to talk to me because whatever I had… he needed it.
I asked him if he knew who Jesus was. He knew certain things but nothing beyond the typical… some dude who died on a cross. At this point I made him promise me something, ”You need to find out who Jesus is.” He promised and asked “how?” I responded, “ask him.” If you really want to know… He’s gonna show you.
From that point on he would tell me we need a “talk” every so often. Most of the time it would be a walk with both of us catching up on how the other person was doing, what God was saying to either of us, if anything, and random thoughts on life. Out of everything we talked about we always ended up at the same questions at the end. I would ask if he found out who Jesus was yet. He would say not yet but was asking and looking into different religions. He would ask how I was feeling about whatever I was being “told” at the time. I would tell him how everything was fine, whatever was supposed to be would be. He would ask what “I” wanted… to which I would skirt around… I wanted whatever was supposed to be to be. He would challenge that in his own way and then we would move on to other topics.
As time passed he began suffering from anxiety. He was coping a few different ways and found ways to ease the stress. He said he always felt better after our talks and the truth was I did too. Having someone to bounce all my experiences off and challenge me on why I thought and felt the way I did, without judgement, was refreshing. I really believed God would make sense of everything.
He went back to Detroit for a few months to do some writing and thinking. When he came back we met up and did our usual “catch up”. Only this time we had a disagreement on something from a few years ago. It was something that shook me and I wasn’t sure how to process it so I said I had to leave and we would talk about it another time. But after that day our relationship was different.
Months went by and September came. I was sitting at a table in Bryant Park when he came and sat across from me. He said, “Marty, I need a little hope.” At this point I was in the middle of a fast and for the first time in my life felt hopeless myself. I was also still disturbed by our last conversation and didn’t know if I trusted the motive behind anything. I remember looking up and telling him I had nothing to say. I wasn’t going to be fake. I really had nothing. I was in this really dark place and the only thing I could focus on was making it through that month.
I got a text from him that November. He had just seen a picture. It made him smile and he wanted to say “thank you”. I wasn’t sure exactly what he was talking about but I remember being half asleep and thinking we should catch up soon. This was five days before he died.
A few weeks later his best friend came to me and said we needed to talk. A few days before he died he sat her down and asked her what she believed. What her thoughts were on God, Jesus, the Bible. She said she usually wouldn’t talk about any of that stuff with people but he made her. She told me whatever it was that I told him he needed to find, he found it, and he made her promise she would grab a coffee with me and talk to me about everything.
I couldn’t understand why he would have killed himself if he really got it. In my own limited reasoning I really thought once you had Jesus everything would be fine and he would tell you what you needed to do. I was only going off of my own experience and what I would find out later would shift my understanding.
Little did I know how God would use that situation, those conversations, in the days ahead. I wish I knew then what I know now. Maybe he would still be here…
It would be a few months before I would understand the point of getting this song, during another fast, when another song would come along… called “Swallow”.
THE DIARIES
NOVEMBER
THE DIARIES : NOVEMBER
I wrote this song in September of 2007. I felt like I was supposed to fast and about a little over a week into the fast I got pieces of this song, the first two verses and then refrain. The days that followed put me into a hopeless state. It was the first time I ever felt hopeless in my life and it wasn’t just about a few things, it seemed to be about everything. It was a super dark place and all I could think about was needing to keep myself separate from my feelings and just “make it through September”. That’s what the song was telling me so that is what I would do. September ended. My fast ended.
I didn’t think much about the song until November. November 16, 2007 a friend committed suicide. I hadn’t seen him since September. In fact, he asked me for something that I could not give him the last time we saw each other. I happen to be sitting at the exact same table where he had asked when I found out about his tragic death. It was as if everything went back to the day he asked me and then an unraveling of past conversations. It felt unreal and then too real depending on which way I thought about it. I reached out to his best friend right away to find out if it was real. It was.
I went to bed that night not knowing what to say to God. All I could ask was “why?” with no reply in any form.
A piece of the back story:
I moved to New York City in 2004 and this guy was one of the first people I met that would end up being part of my “New York” journey. We both felt like we were “supposed” to be in New York, like so many others for different reasons.
I remember the night we had our first “real conversation”. He said he wanted to hear “my deal”, why I seemed to be ok no matter what was going on. He told me I had something that he knew he needed. And although many could read and take that in different ways, as he told me, he was serious, and I knew exactly what he was talking about. But this wasn’t something I could give him. It was something I could tell him. The getting would be between him and God.
Usually I let other people spill their “deals” first. Who are you? What do you believe in? Why? What’s your passion? I like to hear where someone is coming from and why they think the way they do. If they want to hear mine I share the pieces that I think are relevant to the conversation. In his case I knew it was different. I felt like I was really supposed to share my entire story with him. So I did… everything.
I shared my experiences of when I was little that made me question God. My experience of realizing Jesus was real. Testing Jesus and asking for signs. I shared different things I was told along the way… some things I was ok with while other things would take the passing of time. If they were meant to be they will be. Testing what I was being told through signs that followed for proof that it was meant to be, unsure of how I felt about them. This eventually brought me to New York. Where I now found myself telling him I had no clue what was going to happen but just knew I was supposed to be here.
His response was…”Whoever it is that is talking to you… that’s in me.” He went on to tell me that something inside him was telling him things too. And it was what brought him to New York as well. He was from Detroit. He had gotten to the point of thinking life was pointless and had attempted to take his own life. He woke up the following morning knowing he should have died. But all he knew was there was something inside telling him to move to New York. Figuring he was alive for a reason he decided to follow this thing. It was the same thing that was now telling him he was supposed to quit his band to focus more on acting. The same thing telling him he needed to talk to me because whatever I had… he needed it.
I asked him if he knew who Jesus was. He knew certain things but nothing beyond the typical… some dude who died on a cross. At this point I made him promise me something, ”You need to find out who Jesus is.” He promised and asked “how?” I responded, “ask him.” If you really want to know… He’s gonna show you.
From that point on he would tell me we need a “talk” every so often. Most of the time it would be a walk with both of us catching up on how the other person was doing, what God was saying to either of us, if anything, and random thoughts on life. Out of everything we talked about we always ended up at the same questions at the end. I would ask if he found out who Jesus was yet. He would say not yet but was asking and looking into different religions. He would ask how I was feeling about whatever I was being “told” at the time. I would tell him how everything was fine, whatever was supposed to be would be. He would ask what “I” wanted… to which I would skirt around… I wanted whatever was supposed to be to be. He would challenge that in his own way and then we would move on to other topics.
As time passed he began suffering from anxiety. He was coping a few different ways and found ways to ease the stress. He said he always felt better after our talks and the truth was I did too. Having someone to bounce all my experiences off and challenge me on why I thought and felt the way I did, without judgement, was refreshing. I really believed God would make sense of everything.
He went back to Detroit for a few months to do some writing and thinking. When he came back we met up and did our usual “catch up”. Only this time we had a disagreement on something from a few years ago. It was something that shook me and I wasn’t sure how to process it so I said I had to leave and we would talk about it another time. But after that day our relationship was different.
Months went by and September came. I was sitting at a table in Bryant Park when he came and sat across from me. He said, “Marty, I need a little hope.” At this point I was in the middle of a fast and for the first time in my life felt hopeless myself. I was also still disturbed by our last conversation and didn’t know if I trusted the motive behind anything. I remember looking up and telling him I had nothing to say. I wasn’t going to be fake. I really had nothing. I was in this really dark place and the only thing I could focus on was making it through that month.
I got a text from him that November. He had just seen a picture. It made him smile and he wanted to say “thank you”. I wasn’t sure exactly what he was talking about but I remember being half asleep and thinking we should catch up soon. This was five days before he died.
A few weeks later his best friend came to me and said we needed to talk. A few days before he died he sat her down and asked her what she believed. What her thoughts were on God, Jesus, the Bible. She said she usually wouldn’t talk about any of that stuff with people but he made her. She told me whatever it was that I told him he needed to find, he found it, and he made her promise she would grab a coffee with me and talk to me about everything.
I couldn’t understand why he would have killed himself if he really got it. In my own limited reasoning I really thought once you had Jesus everything would be fine and he would tell you what you needed to do. I was only going off of my own experience and what I would find out later would shift my understanding.
Little did I know how God would use that situation, those conversations, in the days ahead. I wish I knew then what I know now. Maybe he would still be here…
It would be a few months before I would understand the point of getting this song, during another fast, when another song would come along… called “Swallow”.