“To live is to suffer, to survive is to find meaning in the suffering.” – DMX
A few months ago, something happened on a normal weekday morning that made me need that reminder more than ever.
I live in Lawrence, Kansas, a small college town just west of Kansas City, home to the University of Kansas and one of the best little downtowns you’ve never heard of. The heart of it is a five-block stretch called Mass St., short for Massachusetts Street, packed with restaurants, coffee shops, bars, and stores.
I love going to breakfast on Mass St. I make my way down there about once a week. It’s normally uneventful. I park at one of my three regular spots, get a table, order, make small talk with the server, and journal. I’ve done it literally hundreds of times.
But one morning, something entirely different happened.
As I was parking, a young woman came running around the corner of the building in front of me. This wasn’t all that unusual. Lots of people run on Mass St. But she wasn’t wearing running clothes and she was in a dead sprint. Two seconds later, a young man rounded the same corner, yelling at her to stop.
She wasn’t screaming for help, but it was clear she was trying to get away from him. A voice inside me said: YOU HAVE TO GO.
By the time I got out of my car and started running after him, they were half a block ahead of me. I sprinted as hard as I could, yelling at him to stop, phone out, calling 911. He didn’t slow down. My yelling had zero effect.
She turned left toward a side street. Him behind her. Me behind him, trying to relay what was happening to the police. Luckily, there was already an officer on that street. Someone else had called too. He tackled the man to the ground.
The woman turned and started running back the other direction, back toward me. As I slowed down, she passed me, still running as hard as she could. She looked me dead in the eyes and said:
“LEAVE ME THE F*** ALONE.”
There was fire in her eyes when she said it. She meant it. And she didn’t stop running.
By the time the cops had the man in handcuffs, she was gone. I answered the officer’s questions. Eventually, they had to let him go. He technically hadn’t hurt her, and she wasn’t there to tell her side. That was disappointing.
I had too much adrenaline to eat breakfast. Getting back in my car, I sat there trying to collect my thoughts.
On one hand, I felt like I did the right thing. I saw a man chasing a woman, and I did what I could to stop him. But her response to me was a gut punch, not because she owed me anything, but because of what that encounter revealed.
She looked homeless. Life had clearly been hard on her. And she kept running even after the threat was gone. I couldn’t stop thinking: It’s just a matter of time before someone really hurts her.
It took me a little while to realize that what I was experiencing was grief. That’s what was sitting in the car with me.
I wish the world had less suffering and more safety for people like her. I wish everyone was granted the security they need to build their life the way they want. I don’t understand why some people are thrust into worlds so brutal they can’t escape them.
I can’t answer that. I don’t think anyone can.
What I can do is feel it. Glennon Doyle says it well: “Being human is not about feeling happy. It’s about feeling everything.”
I have the capacity to feel grief, disappointment, and defeat without allowing it to break me because I’ve learned to convert grief to gas.
I couldn’t help her. I’ve made peace with that. But I won’t let that stop me from helping the next person in front of me. And I won’t let the weight of the people I can’t reach crush the energy I owe to the ones I can.
That’s the lesson:
“Don’t hurt the ones you can help by focusing on the ones you can’t.”
I’ve never seen her again, but I wonder about her sometimes. I hope she’s okay. I hope she’s safe and has what she needs to live a great life. I’ll never forget that moment because even though the world may know me as a real estate coach, I know my true mission is to help as many people as possible transcend suffering.
I know I can’t help everyone, but I won’t hurt the ones I can help by focusing on the ones I can’t.
live freed,
Jordan
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