Anonymous Stories
Last summer there was an art installation in one of the parks in the city. Framed and hung around the base pillars of a bridge were over 100 anonymous stories of the hardest things people have ever experienced, and how they survived. In the middle of the two pillars was a giant yellow mailbox, with letters of hope written on the sides. There was a drawer in the mailbox stocked with paper and pens. You could reply to one of the letters if you wanted to, offering encouragement for a stranger’s story.
I visited the installation multiple times last summer, and before summer was over I had read every single story on display. There were stories of loss and loneliness, of addiction and eating disorders. Some were stories of surviving abuse and others were about constant battles with a darkness that is telling you that you aren’t good enough.
There were also stories of young kids learning to ride bikes and of people being the first to graduate college in their families. One young kid shared the time that he didn’t get to eat for several hours, and then how delicious his peanut butter and jelly sandwich tasted. Someone else shared what it had been like to experience homelessness.
For years I have been drawn to the stories about people’s hardest moments. They are different for everyone, but we all have a hardest thing we’ve ever been through. We’ve all survived something that we didn’t think we could. And each time we have, we’ve learned that we are strong enough to survive that thing, and the next thing too.
As I read the stories of people I’ve never met, my heart ached for all of them. Not only were these people strong enough to survive, but they were brave enough to share their stories. Many of the stories made me tear up, but there was one that made me actually cry. That was the story I replied to last summer. I wonder if she’s ever seen my words, I always hoped that she would. I’ve thought about her story often over the past year since I read it.
This girl’s mother died when she was in her early twenties. It wasn’t until the funeral that she found out none of her friends were the kind that would actually be there for you when you needed them. Not a single one of her friends showed up for her that day. She had to figure out how to survive her loss, and the funeral, completely alone. Since then, she has made new friends, better friends, but she still struggles with getting out of bed every day.
Out of all the stories in the installation, hers was the hardest for me to read.
At my darkest moments, when I’ve felt my most lonely, I’ve always known that I have people in my corner that fight for me. Without those people, I don’t know that I would have ever been strong enough to survive my hardest things. So, this anonymous girl’s story broke my heart. I could empathize with the weight of burying someone you love, but I could only imagine what it felt like to have to do it alone.
Now when I wonder about her, I always hope she is finding it a little bit easier to get out of bed these days.
A few months ago I learned there was going to be a book put together by the same artist. It’s a continuation of the art installation from last summer. Anonymous stories of hard things and letters of hope published side by side. I preordered a copy and it arrived in the mail last week.
Today I started reading the stories and letters. I think it’s going to be a good book to have around these days. Whenever I find myself getting annoyed over the little things, I can read an anonymous story to change my perspective. After all, there are much harder things to survive than the case of laziness I was battling this morning.
Note: The art installation and book are both titled Never, Ever Give Up: Anonymous Stories and Letters from Northeast Ohio. The artist is Allison Hite, the website is NeverEverGiveUpCLE.com and it is @NeverEverGiveUpCLE on Instagram.
