This is a creative essay I wrote for a class this semester. It really means a lot to me, I wrote it all from personal experience. During the time that these events happened I was at my lowest point and these people who came and left have had such a tremendous impact on my life that you can’t even imagine.
It’s interesting to think of the people who have a profound impact on your life. I’m not talking about your best friend who you see every day, or your mom who has always been there. I mean the people who are only there for a fleeting moment but leave lasting memories and impressions on how you see the world and yourself and who in some way, shape, or form, made you into the person that you are.
There have been many people like that in my life who I only knew for a short period of time and who I have virtually no chance of ever seeing again. Yet in the small moment that I knew them, they left such a lasting impression on me that helped build me into the person I am today. The way I think, feel, act, and love would not have been shaped into how I am today if I had never met them. If I ever saw them again, all I would want is a moment to thank them for coming into my life and helping to shape my mindset into what it is today.
My grandma lives in an apartment for elderly people. It’s not a nursing home, but a place for independent older people who want a quiet life. For as long as I can remember she’s been my “baby sitter” so to speak. After school, up until high school, I would be dropped off at her house until my parents got home from work. I knew a lot of people in the building well. They’d watched me grow up since I was a baby, and they’d always be around with a smile. But there was one person in the building who I had yet to meet and although I didn’t know it at the time, would come to hold a special place in my heart.
When I was about 14 my grandma said to me one day, “Jessica, I want you to meet my friend Mr. Nelson. I’ve shown him your art and he thinks you’re really good. He wants to meet you.”
So we went to Mr. Nelson’s door and I brought my sketchbook with me to show him. The old man wearing the black baseball cap greeted me warmly and let us inside. Like most people in the building he was about 70 or 80 yet something about him radiated youth. When I stepped through the door I was immediately struck by the paintings and drawing decorating the small apartment. They were incredible! There were even vines drawn on the walls in sharpie. I asked him if he had done all of that and he said he did. When he found out I was an artist and saw the things my grandma had put up on the walls in her apartment he became interested. So I showed him the drawings in my sketchbook which were widely improved beyond the drawings my grandma kept that were done when I was much younger. He told me that I was incredibly talented and told me about when he had gone to Duke Ellington to study art. Before we left he gave me a new sketchbook, Prisma colored pencils, and a pencil sharpener and told me to never stop drawing.
I would see him almost every time I went to my grandma’s house for years after that. Most of the time I had my sketchbook with me just to show him my latest drawings and how much I was improving. Every time I saw him he greeted me with a warm smile and a hug. It had to have been almost four years later that my grandma told me that Mr. Nelson had moved out to the building to be closer to his daughter so he can be better taken care of. I never realized how much I looked forward to seeing him until that moment and I never saw him again after that. But I went on from there with an eagerness to nourish my love for art.
Art was an escape from the depression and feelings of inadequacy I dealt with for most of my adolescence. It started with my parents separation and manifested itself from there. I can pinpoint the moment where it started to control me back to when I was in seventh grade and I came to school crying. It only got worse from there. Some times were much worse than others, but no matter how long I could forget about it, it always came back and I wasn’t able to let it go for a long time.
It all came crashing down when I was a senior in high school. I remember the day as if it were yesterday. It was in April of that year. I was staying after school for a dress rehearsal of our spring dance concert. I had been holding a lot of things in for a long time. That’s what I’ve always tended to do. I never want to burden anyone else with my problems so I keep them locked up inside to try to deal with them on my own. That day however, was when I hit my breaking point. After being yelled at by a very emotionally abusive boyfriend at the time in front of a group of people, I couldn’t stop crying and I could feel the beginnings of a mental breakdown coming on. It was like someone had pushed me over the edge of a cliff and I was bracing for the impact at the end.
That’s when my friend Z’ane pulled me aside and asked if I wanted to talk about what was going on. She was also a dancer in the spring concert. We would often laugh and talk backstage and had one on one tutoring sessions in the dance studio almost that entire year. Despite how often we had hung out, she had never seen me like this. In fact no one had. We made our way to a private place, the empty stage in the gym and I told her everything from how my parents split had started it all and it continually got worse and worse until I ended up where we were that day.
“Do you know what you’re worth?” she had asked me.
“I…I don’t know,” I replied.
She told me that I was worth more than this. I was worth more than what I was being put through and what I was putting myself through; I just needed to realize it. After that we needed to go get ready to dance, but I took what she told me to heart and decided to take the long and winding road to recovery.
I found out not long ago that Z’ane had committed suicide. My best friend from high school called me and told me the news. I hadn’t really spoken to Z’ane since graduation but I was friends with her on social media and I thought about her often. She seemed fine, she seemed happy. No one had any reason to suspect that anything was wrong. But that’s how it is. I bottled up my problems too and pretended to be happy in front of everyone. If she hadn’t spoken to me that day in high school, this could possibly have been me. But I also wish it hadn’t been her. I wish I had been able to help her in the same way she helped me and tell her that she was worth her weight in gold. Maybe then she could have been saved.
That road to recovery wasn’t an easy one. Well into summer break I had gone shopping with my dad, brother, and sister. We had gone to the dollar store to get a birthday card for his wife. On the outside we had seemed like a normal family just out doing some errands and joking around. Maybe on the outside I had seemed happy. But on the inside I had been trying for months to pull myself out of the inner turmoil that had plagued me for years and had finally threatened to break all that I was mentally and physically just months earlier. I had made a conscious decision to change my emotional state and be the positive person that I saw in everyone I looked up to. Yet every second of the day was a constant struggle to put on a smile and pretend that everything was okay. I wanted to change. I wanted to be more than I had allowed myself to live as for so long. The only problem was that after such a long time of holding grudges, feeling less than, and allowed myself to be walked over by everyone, I didn’t know how.
My dad eventually picked out the card he wanted to buy and we went up to the register. The person ahead of us was a woman who looked to be in her early 20s with curly natural hair and colorfully patterned clothes. As the man behind the counter, the same age but substantially less enthusiastic, started to ring up her items, she asked, “How are you doing today?”
“Not that great,” the man replied, clearly very upset about something.
“Don’t worry, it’ll get better,” she said in a gentle tone full of sunshine.
Then she looked at my family, gave us all a bright smile, looked at my dad and said, “Beautiful family.”
She collected her bags and then walked off as I watched her in awe.
I never saw that girl again. I don’t know her name, where she lives, what her past was like. But that is a moment I have thought about every day since then. Back then I asked myself how was it possible that this girl could be so happy and radiate such positive vibes that they even lifted my mood. She was everything that I wanted to be. I used this unknown woman, who I at the same time felt so close to after that moment, to model my own life after. Since then I strived to be that happy, inspiring, and to give off such positive vibes to brighten anyone’s day. I doubt she knew how much she influenced me that day.
People come and go in our lives and leave a lasting impact on us that changes us forever. When I first met Mr. Nelson, I never would have thought he would become a close friend and inspire me to pursue my dreams. I never would have imagined that one thirty minute conversation with Z’ane would change my life. And I never would have expected a random girl in the grocery store would be the catalyst to becoming the positive and inspiring person I strive to be every day. I’m sure they never would have expected it either.
Honestly, we don’t know what lasting impact we’ll have on someone. We don’t know what anyone is going through and what our words and actions can mean to them. Because of these people I wake up every day motivating myself to be the best person that I can be. I walk through each day with a smile for everyone. I want to be the Mr. Nelson to an aspiring artist and encourage them to keep going. I want to be someone’s Z’ane and save them from the thoughts that threaten to destroy them. And I want to be the stranger who brightens someone’s day, or even their whole life, through my words and actions.