Chapter 20: Guilt Pulls the RV Over
Side of Interstate 10, Arizona / October
Did I cause Jamie’s siucide? If that thought crept in, I’d shoo it away with the logical side of my brain, knowing that claim just isn’t true. And if I explored such a question further, it would shift the focus toward myself rather than the tragedy at matter.
This was one of the first times I drew the connection that my thoughts had the power to make a situation that had nothing to do with me about me. That my ego was feeding on itself. Just like Eckhart Tolle’s advice, I tried not to listen to the ego and instead force my mind to watch its hungry little head float by, so eventually, it could leave. I think that works. I think it’s wise. There’s always a part of us that knows these emotions will pop up like a groundhog when we least expect it, and especially at the time we don’t want them to.
The truth is, I hadn’t seen Jamie in four months and hadn’t caught up over the phone either. I hadn’t seen her since that day. Thee day. Maybe one or two texts were exchanged since graduation, but we had very little interaction after I drove away from college and never looked back.
But here I was, looking back.
Guilt is normal, but if we don’t use the emotional tools to talk back at our thoughts, we can be swept away in the tornado of confusion, transported into an artificial reality. I would know because I’ve been there. I knew it wasn’t true, that I was not the cause of her death. But I could have sat her down and told her I saw some out-of-the-ordinary changes in her, that I was concerned for her, and that I was a safe space for her to open up to. But I was too absorbed in myself, my new group of festival friends, bartending ‘til one in the morning, and my soon-to-be sparkling life in California. Instead of facing an unpredictable side of Jamie, I avoided her.
As I stare out the window of the RV watching the desert tumbleweed roll by, I watched my ego run its course and face these feelings of guilt and shame head on.
When was the last time I saw her?
Was it that day I rudely brushed her off during my drug trip to hell?
Oh my goodness, why did I act like that?
How could I have just shooed her away like I did?
Just because I was on drugs means that anyone sober around me is excluded?
How could I have done that to such a sweet and innocent person like her?
Facing this demon, admitting that my words and inactions were cowardly and rude, brought me to this conclusion: acceptance.
To this day, even though my brain is still young, my memory of my last interaction with her is gray. I think my brain tried to delete the last semester of college because I had lived a path of darkness, festival-druggie friends, rejection by multiple guys, and the feeling of abandonment when my besties graduated before me. So, my ability to remember the last month of school is near hopeless. For now, I listen to Aiden, who told me that my last interaction with Jamie was when I packed my car full of luggage and HUGGED her goodbye before I left campus forever. I’ve worked through the feelings of my last interaction enough to know that either scenario doesn’t matter that much. What matters is the love she stamped upon my heart—the time we spent together, the deep chats we had about her faith, about the boys we battled, about our family, and about our excitement for the future.
Publishing update:
I received a thoughtful letter of acceptance from a publisher today. Some encouraging words regarding this memoir I wrote. Yet, in knowing that there are many scammers out there, I would not allow my hopes to climb until I researched the company. Turns out they are what I expected. A vanity publisher, meaning they ask for money up front. That’s a no, no. I ain’t falling for that.
Next up: Keep querying or start a new book. Let me know what you think?
XOXO,
Kelly Jett.