Thinking about Linda Wheeler and Freddie Steinmark, especially around the time of his funeral, brings back some specific feelings for me. I wasn’t connected to them personally, didn’t attend anything like that. I was just living my own life somewhere else entirely, but that story, it definitely floated around.
What Was Happening With Me Then
Around that time, I was actually going through a bit of a rough patch myself. Nothing nearly as serious, of course, but perspective is everything when you’re in the middle of it. I’d just moved to a new town for a job opportunity. Left my friends, my familiar places. Felt pretty isolated.
Started the new job. It wasn’t quite what I expected. Long hours, felt like I wasn’t really clicking with the team. Spent a lot of evenings just kind of rattling around my small apartment, wondering if I’d made the right choice. Felt very much alone, you know?
How Their Story Hit Me
Then I remember reading or hearing about Freddie’s story. This young guy, incredible athlete, facing the absolute worst. And seeing pictures or reading about Linda being right there with him, that unwavering support. It was incredibly sad, obviously, but also strangely powerful.
It made my own feelings of loneliness seem manageable. It wasn’t about minimizing my own struggles, but seeing that kind of strength and connection in the face of true adversity, it just shifted things in my head a little.
Steps I Took
It didn’t magically fix everything, but it did push me. I realized I couldn’t just wait for things to get better on their own.
- I made a point to actually talk to one new person at work each day, even if it was just small talk.
- I started exploring the new town on weekends, instead of just staying inside. Found a little park, a decent coffee shop.
- I called my family and old friends more often, didn’t just wait for them to call me.
- I focused on doing my job well, even the parts I didn’t love, figuring competence builds confidence.
It was a conscious effort. Had to push myself out of that comfort zone, that little bubble of feeling sorry for myself I’d built.
Where Things Landed
Slowly, things did get better. Made a couple of work friends. Found some spots in town I liked. The job eventually got more interesting, or maybe I just got better at it. The isolation faded. Thinking back, remembering that story of courage and support, even though it was someone else’s story, somehow gave me a little nudge when I needed it. It reminded me you gotta keep putting one foot in front of the other, and that connection, reaching out, it matters. It definitely stuck with me.
