*Well, I spent the weekend listening to a friend’s cries of grief as she walks through the deep losses of chronic pain. Each of my family members are facing huge trials and I currently can’t live in my house because it makes me severely ill and we don’t know what we are going to do. I spent the weekend numb and tired and I’m getting sick which for my body means I’ll probably be knocked out for a while.*
“It was busy but fine.”
It’s been months since I had that interaction, but it stuck with me because our standard protocol for greeting and conversation doesn’t do life justice. We don’t actually get to SEE each other when we summarize things, and so often BOTH our joys and sorrows remain invisible.
If something is great we are hesitant to be too enthusiastic for fear of offending people. If something is hard we are hesitant to be too honest for fear of being Johnny Raincloud.
It’s easy for me to get bull-seeing-red angry with people who make ignorant comments about things I or one of my family members are dealing with. People who don’t even know what hard is shouldn’t be allowed to comment, I think. Then the small voice whispers, “...you used to make comments like that.” Yes, yes I did used to make stupid, ignorant comments about trauma and invisible illness and mental health and cancer. Until I had personal experience.
I want to be a safe person for people to make their invisible pain visible to, whether or not I have walked a similar road. People who have made me feel safe to show the real me to first and foremost listen, and then they react accordingly- rejoice if I’m rejoicing or mourn it I’m mourning. They don’t compare, start talking about themselves or offer ignorant advice.
I have a ways to go, but when I grow up I want to be a safe person who truly sees people.
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