“To be blessed, be generous.”
Alexis Minko was born in Libreville, Gabon, and was raised primarily there and in Paris, France. He began his career as an attorney working for the United Nations in New York and worked with the Security Council of the United Nations on peacekeeping operations for the delegation of Gabon to the UN. He is a proud resident of New York City.
The Interview
Alex is nothing short of dashing—tall, thin, and sophisticated, with impeccable manners and a charming accent—the kind of person who walks into a room and everyone notices. Alex was a new friend, but when I told him about this project, he said he wanted to do what he could to help. He exudes generosity in everything he does, and in the most joyous way. We ended up meeting for lunch in New York City, and during the course of our conversation I asked him if he thought he had an epiphany he’d be willing to share. He said he’d share a story with me, but he wasn’t sure if it was an epiphany. After the hour had passed, we had both laughed and cried, and I could not believe I had just unexpectedly received such an intimate and powerful account from someone who wasn’t even certain he had an epiphany story.
Alex’s epiphany was born out of his attempted suicide. Suicide is a subject that has become more and more prevalent in our society. I hope sharing his story sheds light and hope into places that may seem overwhelming. Out of total despair and darkness comes love, life and generosity–it’s possible for us all.
Alexis’s Epiphany
My best friend of ten years, Maeli, was graceful, smart, artistic, and wonderful in every way—the kind of person who is everything you would want to be and everything you could ever want in a friend. A few years ago, we were having lunch in Paris, where we lived and grew up, and we were laughing and having a great time until he said the strangest thing to me—he said, “I am going to die very soon. I am just fed up with this life.” I thought he was being overdramatic and was completely kidding, so I just laughed and said, “Come on, Maeli, you can’t say things like that,” and eventually we moved on to other things, finished our lunch, and went on with our day. Later that week his partner left him, and Maeli called me very upset, so as all best friends do, I met up with him to talk about it, console, and distract him.
We hung out that entire day into the night. I tried to make him smile. Though of course he was hurting deeply because of his breakup, by the end of our night he agreed with me that he felt his life was actually going to be better.
One of Maeli’s and my greatest dreams since childhood had always been to one day live in New York City together. The day after we had gone out to ease the pain of his breakup, I happened to get a phone call from New York with the incredible news that I had gotten a job I’d applied for there! I left Maeli a message tellinghim the news and that we were finally going to New York. At this time I was twenty-three and in a miserable relationship that was in its final stages, so I was in a state of complete turmoil. I was so absorbed with my relationship’s demise that I didn’t pay much attention to the fact that ten days had passed and Maeli still hadn’t returned my call.
I will never forget this—it was a Saturday and for some reason I was at work—and Maeli’s brother called me. Before he even said anything, I knew. Maeli was dead. He had committed suicide. After I hung up the phone with his brother, I think I went into shock. I went to a bar and got drunk and stayed that way for the next three days. The morning of Maeli’s funeral, my boyfriend told me it was over between us and he was leaving me. I felt I just couldn’t take it—my boyfriend was leaving me, I wasn’t close to my family, and I was burying my best friend. I felt my life was over, and my three-day binge to numb the pain wasn’t helping my mind-set. That day when I thought Maeli was kidding around about dying, he had told me he would take twenty-five sleeping pills with alcohol if he was to kill himself. That’s exactly what he did.
And that’s exactly what I did.
It was funny, but I had no fear. The thought of taking my own life had never even crossed my mind before, but I was in such pain that I had no fear of doing it. It felt like it was the most natural thing. I was feeling such relief at the thought of doing it, and relief was a feeling I hadn’t felt for such a long, long, long time. So I did it. After I took the pills, I wrote some letters to my brother and sisters, and then I just fell asleep. A week later I woke up in the hospital.
This is when my epiphany began.
When I opened my eyes, for the first five seconds the last memory of when I took the pills came flooding back to me, and my first thought was, “Am I dead?” Then I realized where I was and that obviously I hadn’t died (my boyfriend had found me in time), and then I had the thought, “Damn, I’m still here.” Then the realization hit me—I had a second chance. All of a sudden I wanted desperately to leave the hospital and take my life back. I actually unhooked myself from all of the monitors and things and walked outside to hail a cab still in my hospital gown with my backside exposed for all the world to see! Thankfully, nurses ran out and made me come back in beforeI could get in a taxi, and I was discharged the next day.
After I got out of the hospital, I did something I had never done before—I went to see a psychiatrist. I can’t encourage people enough to do this, especially when they are going through a hard time as I was. One day during therapy, I had another defining moment—I realized that I had been an extremely self-absorbed, very selfish person. Up to this point everything had to go my way, and if it didn’t, it was wrong. Nothing was ever my fault but was always someone else’s. I always thought that people should love me because I was beautiful and smart and the life of the party. To the outside world, I seemed open and bright, but on the inside I was very dark—there was no generosity in me. I had very high expectations of everyone around me and of myself, and I felt the world owed me.
But life doesn’t work like that. I realized I had to just let go. Nothing is perfect in this world. I had to realize people won’t love you less because you’re not perfect. Maeli had died. He was my closest friend—closer to me than my family or anyone on the planet—and I couldn’t even see how much pain he was in and that he was serious when he told me he wanted to die. Perhaps I could have helped him had I not been so absorbed in my own problems and issues.
During this time I was also grieving Maeli’s death. In my grieving process, I cried and cried and cried. After many weeks of this, I don’t know how to explain it really, but it was as if I felt Maeli’s hand push me as if to say, “It’s time. Move forward. Life goes on.”
From all of this, I realized I was not alone in this world, and I needed to be at peace with what was around me. I had to open myself up to the world. None of us is perfect, but the point is to try—to always try to be a better person. My life has completely opened up and changed. Everything that seemed dark and confusing is now easy and clear, and I am living all my dreams. I’m now in a beautiful relationship, living in New York with fantastic friends and a job that I absolutely love.
It’s all really very simple—reach out to people. Reach out. Be generous. Be open and appreciate everything in the world around you. Look, every day is not heaven, it’s not always easy—sometimes it’s even a fight—but it’s nice to go to bed at night and be able to close your eyes and smile because you know you’ve tried and maybe even helped someone a little.
I believe you get back what you give. To be blessed, be generous. And when I say be generous, I mean be generous with your heart. Every opportunity you can give of your heart, do it, and you won’t believe the abundance that comes into your life. You’ll find that even when things are down, somehow you will be lifted, and like the phoenix, you’ll fly again, stronger.
I’ve achieved more in the past few years than I did in all the years before, and I attribute this to my realizations. When I opened my eyes in that hospital, I began to open my heart.
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