There's a line from The Sound of Music that I just love. Maria is sharing some of her distress with the Reverend Mother. Paraphrased, she says: "But what's even worse, I can't help saying what I think and believe." Reverend Mother brilliantly replies: "Some would call that being honest."
Mr N and I often fall into that category of saying whatever we are thinking at the moment and it's often gotten us a lot of flack. We've really stepped up the pace given the situation we're living and the huge struggles on our plate. Afterall, it isn't just about he and I anymore. We have a little one on the way so the "well what will they say if we tell them the truth of what's going on and what we need" has been tossed out that proverbial window.
I cannot tell you the number of people who are simply too weak to handle hearing what we're experiencing. It isn't like we're exagerrating. We're simply telling things like it is. I mean come on, when someone you've known for years and/or you consider a friend wants to know how things are going, you tell them the truth, right?
Apparently not. Apparently these weak-minded folks are simply lying when they ask how you're doing and what's new.
Maybe it isn't a matter of weakness. Maybe it's a matter of a lack of empathy. Maybe it's all about lifting the veil of illusion that's been between many of the people in our life (friends and family) so that we can see their TRUE intentions. And in a nutshell, most of these folks have shown us we can't rely on them unless what we're experiencing has happy rainbow sunshine smiles all over the place.
One of my favorite sayings is "Shit Happens". Not because I ENJOY it when such things happen (and especially when the S H I T is not of your own doing but of the system itself), but because it hits the nail on the head about life. Shit happens. We're dealing with some shit. Can you help?
I posted a few weeks ago about life THEN and life TODAY and how we've shared that with certain older individuals. The response has been one of silence. For awhile I thought 'they're just clueless'. But today it hit me. They aren't clueless. They simply don't care. Or perhaps they care MORE about being in denial than they do about our well-being.
Either way, it makes them snakes in a snake pit. And how any of them can claim themselves as members of our family is disturbing and sickening.
I found this card I received when I was 18 from my grandmother. In it she wrote this beautiful letter to me about how the family was always there for me, no matter what, no matter when. That turned out to be utterly false. I remember the first time I really opened up to this same grandmother about a life issue I was struggling with. I made one specific request of her and she agreed to it. Well that agreement lasted that phone call for the next time she spoke, she totally violated my request.
Never trust sweet older women who greet you with cookies and a warm couch. They ain't always so innocent. Often times they're just spinning some mantra or being amicable in the moment. And sometimes an ugly manipulative vindictiveness comes to surface when you call them on their actions. Goodness knows I've encountered that one by my mother.
I know we all have our weaknesses and our issues. I just know that whenever someone, regardless of how much I know the person, shares with me some struggle they are going through I ask if there's anything I can do to help. And it doesn't stop there. Once the conversation is over, I spend time thinking of ways to help, doing research of organizations and the like, and passing along the information. And if there is something concrete I can help out with, whether it's money (even if it's just $20 which for me at times throughout my life is a lot), food, a place to stay for awhile, I DO THAT. That's what love does. And I admit such offerings ain't always easy. I simply do not understand it when someone wants to hear what's going on with you then walks away w/o a word or fails to bring it up again or worse yet, abandons you altogether.
And uglier human trait I simply cannot fathom.