How Choosing to Believe in the Coincidental has Made My Life a Little Bit Better
About four years ago, I lost a close friend to suicide, and I blamed myself for it.
Of course, there was no possible way that his death could have been my fault, but there was a part of me that would never let me fully believe that. So, I shoved that entire situation down.
In hindsight, this was a horrible idea, and I probably should have just gone to therapy a lot sooner than I did. Either way, the feeling of guilt that I had tried to squash down all those years ago had reappeared, and it had begun to take over my life.
During my freshman year of college, I found comfort in the fact that I could leave whenever I wanted, and that I could go wherever I wanted as well.
This brought me to Walmart at around two in the morning on a Wednesday.
I didn’t need anything from Walmart. I’m not even sure if I ended up getting something at all. Nothing physical, at least. Because I did get a story to tell that I have thought about at least twice a week over the past year and a half.
I had wandered into the aisle filled with boxes of tea, and I’d decided that I would pick some up. Maybe spearmint.
I had been touching my box of spearmint tea for half of a second before I knocked it off the shelf, along with about seven other boxes. How I did this remains a mystery to me.
There was another woman in the aisle, so she immediately dived down to help me pick up the tea boxes. All I could say to her was, “I’m sorry! Wow, I have no idea how that happened. Thank you.”
She told me, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
When I said, “I’m sorry,” again, she stopped picking up the boxes, and looked right up at me. I wasn’t expecting this kind of intense eye contact, so my only choice was to stop cleaning as well. She then said to me, “You know it isn’t your fault, right?”
Logically, I know that this woman was only saying this because she felt bad for the teenager that was apologizing profusely to her on the floor of a Walmart at two in the morning because of some ninety-nine cent tea boxes, but I did not take it that way.
I had been thinking about that friend I’d lost all day, about his death, and had officially gotten myself stuck in the horrible mindset of “Oh, god, it was all my fault. What have I done?”
So when this woman said, “You know it isn’t your fault, right?” I had no idea what to think. I knew it was about tea. I knew that.
But what if it just . . . wasn’t?
Which is what I chose to believe. I chose to believe that it wasn’t about tea and that someway, somehow, I had just received a divine intervention or something close to it, and I had come across a real sign that this wasn’t my fault.
And that did wonders for me.
I have always been a wishful person, but since I feel I’ve had a moment where the impossible felt possible, that wishful part of me has taken over.
Is this a good thing? Well, I think so. I’ve started wishing on more stars, and more pennies in fountains, and 11:11 every night, and dandelions that I can blow on. No matter how childish it may sound, I take it all very seriously.
I believe in coincidences. If I feel something relates to my life in a way it doesn’t seem like it should, then that’s a sign.
Why has it appeared this way? What can I learn from it? How could this be a positive sign, as opposed to a negative one? What will I do with the knowledge that I have just received a push in the right direction?
I consider it a fun challenge. To see how I can handle the things life throws at me, especially the ones that I believe all relate to one another. Something I can make a pattern of, and something I can put my faith into.
It isn’t about believing that everything is magical and that the universe is consistently throwing you signs to pay attention to; it’s about taking what you can get and finding a way to use it to your advantage.
I may never have absolute closure on what “You know it isn’t your fault, right?” means, but I like to think that I’ve found it on my own.