*I wrote this piece a few years ago (when I was still on Facebook!). It came to mind today, partly I’m sure because I haven’t been writing much lately and I really want to. But I thought of this piece because the man mentioned in it, my friend, has relapsed recently. Another friend finds himself in a psychiatric facility, meaning, presumably, that he too has relapsed. It grieves my heart that these precious souls are hurting. That I can’t make it right for them. I am learning again from the writings of Father Gregory Boyle that we are here to love each other and that that loving is not neat and tidy or black and white but messy and colored every possible shade of grey. So I post this piece again, as it was originally written, to share a little of what that loving looks like in my life.
It’s been an interesting day. I can’t think of a better word even though I know there is one, so “interesting” will have to do.
I don’t know that I have ever said the words I said today. All lined up and spilling out.
Have I ever held a drunken man, someone I call “friend”, as he sobs? No, I don’t think so.
I’m on FB and it’s midnight. Breaking all my own rules.
Stomach hurts.
And I scroll while my stomach pain climbs a notch. A beautiful great-niece is turning 1. Two other great-nieces are crawling.
My youngest is posting cowboy stuff; wait, sweetie, are you a cowboy? How did I miss this?
I am constantly stretched here, in this thing called life.
I see posts about such diverse things… pain, suffering, lots of judgement… they don’t fit together. We are fragile. I grieve.
The way things are maybe, or is it the way I am?
Old words, “don’t be such a baby”. No.
I celebrated with some amazing men who have accomplished things that most of us will never need to. I am humbled to witness such courage. Truly. Someone said to me today “I’m impressed by what you do.” I think, what else is there?
Perhaps I’m naive. Probably.
Claudia needs me to go to the clothing room with her. She doesn’t ask but I know the rules so I offer. The skirt she’s wearing is falling off. We choose things that look like they might be her size. She asks and I tell her which one will look best with the top she’s wearing.
I’m just taking the next step. Some of this path-walking I get to do with men and women who, for some reason, ended up in a hole so deep. Yea and the reason really isn’t the issue. The issue is what am I going to do?
I find that I am not ever capable. AND I have small offerings: empathy, words of hope.
But I guess, in the midst of it all, sometimes (right or wrong, I don’t know) all I can do is put my arms around a drunken man whom I have come to love and hold him while he weeps.
by 
Amazing post- thank you for sharing.
“I am learning again from the writings of Father Gregory Boyle that we are here to love each other and that that loving is not neat and tidy or black and white but messy and colored every possible shade of grey.”
In my little world, how quickly a few words can trigger a downward spiral. As my thoughts ran away in a night of turmoil, I am reminded that I allow my hopes to turn into expections – a very dangerous path. My expectations are high in all areas of my life, and all we can do for one another is to practice love in this world full of the many shades of grey. I am enough.
My days are full, my days are long.
Often times I wonder what is all this we call life is all about, what’s the purpose with all the hustle and bustle, with all the pain, with the hurts.
Why I ask myself? I often times find myself living life in a vacuum, thinking about absolutely nothing, the peace and solitude that comes from checking out being aware or not being aware of absolutely nothing for just one moment in time, shedding away all the stresses that life has to offer can be most rewarding. Then just as quick as it comes I find myself back in it all over again, and all I can do is ask why.
The drugs, the alcohol, the chemicals that were so easily consumed that helped wash away the pain is no more 😔. What do I do now I ask myself? I walk outside its bright and the sky is blue and flowers of spring slowly begin to emerge , the tree’s offering their cover for the birds to nest that drop there seeds in winter providing food for the little ones of the ground and air, life recycling itself once again for us to enjoy and now finding the process in which becomes ongoing beauty for us is now becoming the very thing that life was and still is providing for me, and the stresses of my life are being alleviated by this beautiful speechless act we call nature.
If we as humans stop focusing on this idea so much about mask wearing, people would probably take them off .
I am slowly beginning to realize that the more books I read on Trauma and self help actually is doing me no justice and is actually closing the door of Sunshine to my heart, I am finding that when it comes to these books however helpful or not, it’s still just one’s opinion, a degree in that area only makes you an expert if you’ve been through it. Probably the most important statement I will ever make is probably the one ignored the most in that the very people who don’t wear masks are the ones judged the most.
So sad😰
Hey David, thanks for your comments. I disagree with what you say here about mask wearing. I still think the majority are unaware of this concept, actually this reality. And awareness in the first step to change. We can surely pave the way by being intentional about choosing vulnerability and living openly and honestly. It’s hard work but I believe it’s needed and valuable. Removing our masks potentially opens us to judgement and being hurt. But that’s something we can’t control- how others perceive us and what they might say. I read a statement somewhere that has really suck with me : “what others think of me is none of my business.” (A Pros and Cons on mask-wearing might be helpful!) I do think at some point there is a time to balance out reading and gathering information with living what we learn. You’re right, it can be heavy on the heart to read and it can also be helpful to gain the information from the experts as well as learn from others’ stories. I don’t agree that one has to experience a specific issue to be considered an expert. My husband comes to mind, a man who has not personally been challenged by substance addiction, yet has made it his life’s work to help those who have. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I love that you think deeply about these things, it encourages me to think about them too!