I was somewhat apprehensive to return to work after a five-day vacation at the Ritz-Carlton Psychiatric Convention Center. After taking a deep breath, I prepared myself to be greeted by true friends who would tease me about playing checkers with the likes of Mrs. Coca-Cola and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Marie asked me how my vacation was. I nodded to the affirmative. We all had a good laugh at their loving "insane insinuations." Party time was soon over, and my thoughts were back in the real world. I went to the floral department and thought, I wonder if I'd remember how to make an arrangement? Instead, I started off slow and made a boutonniere. Easy enough, I thought to myself. With pride in my heart, I smiled because I still had the touch of doing them both Thankfully, soon it was break time. I ordered an Apple Fritter and a diet Dr Pepper. (You're right-it makes no sense. But I've been eating that combination for the past twenty-four years in the grocery business, and I have a waistline to prove it!) I was heading for the break room, as usual, when a familiar feeling came over me, and I saw myself in the eyes of another. I don't know why I slipped into their isolated booth in the store's small dining area. Across me was a very young and frightened woman sipping on a cup of coffee. She had tears streaming down her cheeks and looked rather startled at my appearance. But I had the feeling she was waiting for me. Although we were not formally introduced, words came freely between us. She spoke of her fears and frustrations. As she spoke, I listened, and my own struggles flashed before my eyes. We spoke candidly of her darkest secret-one of sanity. I smiled as I told my new friend that the healing comes when you start believing in yourself. As I watched her, I recognized myself and was somewhat frightened for her. You see, it's sad to lose yourself and your family and blame God for an illness you have no control over. To my surprise, I felt something brush up against my feet. I peeked under the tablecloth and discovered a fair-haired boy who was three years old. The young woman reached down and scooped him up. She cradled him in her arms, and he sucked on his thumb, then he quickly disappeared as he appeared. I smiled as I peeked under the table and saw an all-too familiar world of childhood imagination. I thought back to a time when my girls were very young. Like this boy, they too were victims of this cruel illness. We sat at the corner booth for a long time. Then the young woman began to weep again. "Why would God do this to me?" My mind flashed back in time once more to an unsettling time in my life. She took another sip of her coffee, and we spoke of her son. As she spoke of him, she smiled with her eyes, and a calm feeling came over her. We spoke of our lives and the roads we chose to take. As one living with mental illness, my advice to her that day was, "Healing begins when you believe in yourself." To this very day, our paths have never crossed again. I have no idea what struggles this young woman had. All I know for sure is when we talked, she eased my troubles for a while by focusing on her own. I guess that's what life is all about. John, my husband of forty-five years, has been there with me every step of the way. If not for him, things could've turned out very differently. I could have lost my life, my family, my sanity, and my faith in God. Through it all, there has been one constant thing in my life. When we spoke our marriage vows, nothing was said of "until death do we part." What we said was "for time and all eternity." On my darkest days, John would say, "Honey, you just have to get better soon because we vowed to love each other forever, and forever is a very long time."