500 Words- (We and They Who Hurt)

As part of my participation in My 500 words, I am posting what I write each day.

     Sometimes writing character-driven stories can be more exhausting than any other kind of writing. But in real life, it’s people that make things happen. Sure, there may be natural occurrences, that affect our lives, but how people react to them is still what drives humanity.

     When we start out our life as infants, we’re selfish and hungry. If we develop normally we eventually learn empathy and how to care for other’s needs. But do we ever lose our selfish desires? Do they just lay underneath our conscience, under control most of the time? I think so. It’s why there’s conflict in the world.

     When I hear or read someone’s story, their testimony or an account from their life that explains who they are, that person becomes more real to me. In my few years in Celebrate Recovery I’ve heard some powerful stories of people’s lives. Each time, I’m reminded that these people have been shaped by events of their life and choices they made. They’ve been hurt and betrayed. They’ve had role models, good and bad. They’ve made choices they’ll regret forever.

     I’m reminded that these people are just like me.

     While I know a few people that it’s hard to imagine them ever being unkind or selfish, there are the other people. I don’t know most of them, but I see them being rude to cashiers or driving their loud vehicles above the speed limit in a school zone. Then there are people I know whose character flaws are all I seem to notice most of the time. These people might seem very selfish. They might make other’s lives more difficult for no apparent reason. They might be bullies, passive-aggressive saboteurs, or power-tripping micromanagers. We all know people like this, do we?

     But what’s more, are these people any different than us? The man in his illegally parked Corvette who’s rude to the girl at Starbucks. The woman who spreads hurtful gossip. Even the schoolyard bully. We all have a past full of incidents that shaped us and people who’ve hurt us. We all have coping mechanisms that we use to deal with life’s hurts. I have them and so does every person who irritates me or makes my life difficult.

     We all have a past that defines us. Some of us may not like what we’ve become from it and feel the need to act in a certain way, hoping to find security or identity. Some of us may not be aware of how we are and we think we’re doing the best we can. I know I’ve been there. I’ve thought I was doing it right, indispensable, and doing no damage. I had a cold wake-up call when I finally saw how I had been with others. The damage took years to mend.

     I’m not offering a solution to my observations other than this: I think we all know people in our lives that we don’t care for. Personally, I’m going to try to remember how it is for me sometimes. I’ve felt insecure and alone. These people do too sometimes. They’re coping with life in the way they can. Yes, it’s hurting others, and sometimes these people are poisonous to the point where they just need to be cut from our lives. But they’re this way for a reason.

     Readership on my blog has been down. If you are reading this, you might wonder if there is anyone in particular on my mind and this is my own passive-aggressive way of dealing with it. If you have questions, please message me. The point of today’s blog was to write 500 words about what’s on my mind. Mission accomplished.      

  

We're not Alone

     As soon as I noticed one, they were everywhere. It’s happened more than once. The first time may have been when I first got my Mustang. As I drove it down the highway, I saw more Mustangs. Hey, the world has more than just one. The same thing happened with my next car, and the one after that. I thought it was a funny little car phenomenon. But it was so much more than cars.

I was not prepared for the next phase of this. As soon as Prajna and I learned that we were expecting our first child, suddenly I saw pregnant women everywhere. What, had we started a trend? What was with all the moms to be around the mall?

It didn’t take much thought to realize what was happening. They had been there all along. It was only since we experienced it that we began to notice others in the same condition. It happened when I drove a different car, I was aware of what I was in and spotted more like mine. The same with pregnant women, we noticed them because we were mindful. Later in my life, I suddenly noticed how many people wore eyeglasses. It wasn’t that I was that blind without them, but when I started wearing them, I became aware that there were plenty of people just like me. The first time I got caught in the rain with them, I thought to myself, hey, lots of other people have this problem of rain spots too. Most recently, I noticed many other people walking with a cane. Up until just a few weeks ago, I had no idea people even did that.

We’re really not so different from each other. I can walk down the street and notice someone wearing the same kind of shoes as me, lots of people with eyeglasses, and even though my truck is an older model, I can spot another one like mine right away.

There are things only on the outside. When I stop to think about how alike were are in visible ways, it seems inevitable that we are a lot alike inside too.  

With all the people out there, there must be more who don’t care for raw broccoli but love it when it’s cooked well. Someone else in the world must think the sound of wind blowing through pine trees is the most beautiful noise in the world. I know there are lots of people who suffer from restless leg syndrome and tinnitus, maybe they wear eyeglasses and need to walk with a cane sometimes too.

But then go deeper down. How many people do I walk past everyday who have the same anxieties as me? Who else, when no-one is around, stops and takes a deep breath, thinking: Okay, I can do this… I hope. How many of us struggle with hurts, habits and hang-ups that we think that no-one else in the world understands?

Imagine if one day everything we kept hidden was displayed on a floating sign over our head that followed us around. If would be like the day I got my eyeglasses, but for everyone. Suddenly we would see that there are so many other people out there who battle addictions, suffer from anxiety, feel lost or confused, and worst of all, they think that they are alone and no-one understands. But if the day came that everyone had a sign saying what they struggled with, would there be looks of recognition? Would people stop and say to someone: you too?

There will never come a day when we have these signs displaying the burdens we carry. I think that the best we can do for now is be kind, starting with a smile or caring word. Doing anything to indicate that we also are weighed down with our own issues can help others connect to us. Because if I’ve learned anything on my road to recovery, it’s that I can’t travel it alone. And another thing, once I took that invisible sign that listed what was hurting me, and let other folks know what was written on it, those hurts were not as strong anymore.   

There are safe places to go to where there are others who have revealed what’s on their sign of hurts. That’s good news. But even better news, sharing the hurts with others, reaching out and accepting help, can begin the healing.

      

Carrying what Matters

     I thought I’d remembered everything. At least I did remember the most important thing, which was my folder with the driving directions and the latest printed copy of my testimony. I had been in touch with a Celebrate Recovery at another church to go give my testimony last Thursday. As the week went by, I didn’t do a whole lot of fretting over it because I had been busy at work and at home. I had taken the time to read over the testimony, which can be painful in some parts. I actually fixed a word or two and printed it out in a big point font to be able to read it off a podium.  

     I left work at 5pm and went home to get my stuff and change my shoes. The family was there after a visit to the Palm Springs Air Museum. I had wanted to go, but wasn’t really able to get off of work. When I was getting my binder Nathaniel came up to me and gave me a rubber bracelet, the kind that lots of people wear for various causes and beliefs. This one said

Perseverance Against All Adversity    Tuskegee Airman

     I slipped the bracelet into my pocket and thanked Nathaniel. I told him I hoped to hear all about the museum the next day. I got in my truck and left.

     The drive was uneventful until I got to Colton and the street I wanted was a one-way. I had to drive farther, turn left twice and right once to get to my street. Thankfully, I had looked at the aerial map and knew what my destination looked like. I parked my truck in front of the church and went in. I was early but there were folks there who were happy to see me.

     When the ministry leader arrived, they had a pizza dinner and let me eat for free seeing as I was their guest speaker. Before the meeting started, we had a prayer and someone asked me if I was nervous. I wasn’t. I’ve read my testimony before and I don’t have a problem speaking in front of crowds. I understand that public speaking is a common fear, but I don’t have it. I would rather address a crowd of strangers than make a phone call or deal with a gaggle of ladies in charge of the church kitchen.

     The worship started. I was feeling alright, calm. I love worship music. Then my heart skipped. I thought of something that I didn’t have. My talisman. It was a little hair loop with wooden beads. I had found it in our flat in Budapest 17 years ago and for some reason, I had it in my pocket when I bungee-jumped in 1997. So I took it with me every time I read my testimony. And tonight, I didn’t have it. So I got nervous. I don’t believe in lucky charms. That’s what I told myself. But the truth is, I believe in comfort objects. I believe in token reminders of past achievements. I had had this thing in my pocket every time before, and I felt I really needed it this time too. But it was a dozen miles away tucked in a little box with other useless items, a torn-in-half dollar bill, a few cough drops, lots of little metal things I pick up when I’m vacuuming, and a roll of cherry Life-Savers that’s at least 5 years old.

     I was without my talisman. But I hadn’t forgotten what I did have in my pocket. I got out the bracelet from Nathaniel and pulled it over my left wrist. The sharp contrast softened as soon as I did and I relaxed. Everything was okay. I reached into my man-purse, pulled out a notebook and wrote the words: forgot my talisman, but any one will do for my next blog. I really did feel like it was all okay.    

     I was surprised at how my alarm had completely vanished. This proved that it isn’t what I carry in my pocket. The hair loop thing had been with me when I was courageous and it was a good reminder that I could step out in courage and share my story. But when I didn’t need courage, just assurance, I had that too. The little rubber bracelet was from a 10 year-old who has a heart as big as a bungee jump.

When I stood up to give my testimony, I took my eyeglasses off and could not make out the faces in the crowd. I could see my printed paper in front of me and I did feel nervous. I always forget that it does settle gently on me. But I felt the bracelet on my wrist and that is what I needed.

Maybe next time I give my testimony I should not have any reminder of anything with me. But I don’t know what that will prove. As long as I remember that when I share my story, it’s not for my glorification. I am sharing what Celebrate Recovery did for me as an encouragement to others. And I am sharing what God did for me and continues to do. Regardless of what I have in my pocket or around my wrist, I won’t be without what I am there to share.

Admit it, they hurt.

     If you watched Sesame Street in its early days, you might remember a mail carrier lady named Molly played by Charlotte Rae.

All I really remember about her is her generic response to any greeting to how she was doing. Molly always seemed to slump, roll her eyes, and moan: “my feet hurt”.

     I thought, of course her feet hurt. She was a mail lady in a big city. (I thought it was Phoenix because it’s where KHET channel 8 broadcast from.) Poor Molly had to schlep around the city with a big old mail bag all day. No wonder her feet hurt. I felt terrible for her.

     One day Bob or Gordon or maybe Susan told Molly to try pretending her feet didn’t hurt. Just keep saying “my feet do not hurt” and keep walking. So she tried that. She stepped forward repeating the words, “my feet do not hurt” over and over. I don’t remember what happened but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t optimistic about that helping. It seemed ridicules to think that the pain would go away just by saying it wasn’t there. At a young age I grasped that, even though I didn’t know the word denial.

     It seems I had good emotional and spiritual health back then. But the years passed and I began to develop coping mechanisms to deal with life. It wasn’t long before I discovered the sweetest friend, the most comfortable place that felt safer than anywhere in the universe. It was a little world I created for me to live in. Denial. I could tell you that living in denial is like hiding under a warm blanket in bed on a freezing winter morning. Everything feels right about staying and wrong about getting out.

     The problem is that denial is unhealthy. Just like staying under that blanket, I would starve if I never came out. And in real denial, I can’t do anything productive, maintain any relationship or grow in any way by living in denial. I won’t starve, but I will stagnate.

     And I have recently been reminded another side effect of denial. It’s laborious and will suck the life from life. I should have realized it when I was so entrenched in it for so long. This is kind of where the analogy of lying under a warm blanket gets lost, because a blanket requires no effort. But living in denial actually expends a lot of energy. It’s not just trying to hold up the sky over a false world, living in a lie is just wrong. And no matter how much I thought I was okay, deep down, I knew I wasn’t. The level of anxiety that caused was exhausting.   

And while I was living in denial, those around me were aware that something was seriously wrong. Denial takes a huge toll on relationships. 

I am so thankful that I was blessed with a healthy childhood. I just knew it was wrong for Molly the Mail Lady to try to medicate her pain by denying it. I’m afraid that some kids the age I was then have already learned denial. Don’t talk about things that hurt… Pretend that didn’t happen… Family secrets… I learned denial outside the home by not coping with how the world was. But I grew to it just the same and dove deeper in as the real world failed to meet my liking.

Looking back now I don’t know how I could have done things different. I didn’t know how to cope. Neither did Molly. The poor woman’s feet were killing her and the best someone could tell her was to deny it. What do I think should have happened? Maybe the Sesame Street gang could have given her a hand. I don’t know if it’s a federal offence, but what if Big Bird and friends had gone and carried her bag for her for awhile? Maybe that would have helped. But at the very least, someone could have said: “Molly I’m so sorry your feet hurt. Thanks for doing such a good job delivering the mail around the neighborhood. Let me know if there’s anything we can do, okay? Please feel free to stop here anytime and take a rest for a spell. There will always be a cold drink in the summer and a hot one in the winter. Hang in there Molly, we love you.”

There, the pain is real and we know you’re hurting. We want to help and here’s what we will do.

Sorry, I sound self-righteous like that’s what I always do. Knowing what’s right is nothing next to doing what’s right and preaching what’s right is not much use at all. I don’t always do the right thing. But other people have helped me to step out of denial by encouraging me to go ahead and admit that the pain is real. To me, stepping out of denial was the hardest thing to do, and the most freeing.

So if you’re hurting and you know it, clap your hands. Admitting it can be the first step to healing. If you clapped, tell someone. Is it time to shake off that warm blanket and take some nourishment?