How my Friend *Literally* Saved His Father From the Underworld: A Letter to Jordan Peterson

 I just posted this to the r/JordanPeterson subreddit.

Dr. Peterson,

I just got off the phone with a friend whose father, last Saturday, attempted suicide. This friend (who'd like to remain anonymous) saved his life and narrowly risked death himself. He told me to post this poem here, and every word in it is true. I heard his tears, heard the progressively worsening trauma in his voice as he narrated the story up to its climax. The father is alive and recovering, thank heavens.

My friend *literally* descended into the Underworld, *literally* rescued his father. The myth that you teach all of us, the myth that you say lights our eyes up when we hear it-is what my friend literally embodied. My friend's father was suffering from crippling depression, a chaos that formed itself through that father's actions into a handgun pointed at his own chest, a darkness that my friend faced and didn't run away from. He didn't defend himself against this darkness. He didn't hide. He didn't hesitate. He didn't need a safe space, and his father is now alive.

Thank you, Jordan Peterson, for inspiring us to leave our safe spaces and save our fathers:

Safe Spaces

When I got the phone call that my father had gone missing, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I began desperately driving the city streets to find him, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I kept praying that I wouldn’t find his dead body, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I raced through rush hour traffic to his office, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I kept pounding on the building doors, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I kicked his locked office door off its hinges, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I saw the gun he was holding to his chest, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I begged him to put the gun down, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I told him how much I loved him, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I told him I was gonna stand right behind him, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I told him that I wasn’t quitting on him, I didn’t need a safe space.

When he shot himself through the chest, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I used my bare hands to stop the bleeding, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I told the paramedics exactly where to find him, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I told the detectives what happened, I didn’t need a safe space.

When I stood down and faced darkness itself, I didn’t need a safe space.

No, I needed the conviction that I could do the impossible.

That I had the courage to walk through hell and back and survive.