Showing posts with label coping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coping. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Of Mice and Men.

I've been thinking a lot about death, and about kindness. About loss, and about our role in other peoples lives.

A few days ago, I lost a family member. We weren't super close, I didn't know him extremely well. He was my mom's cousin, older than me and in another country.




We spoke a few times a year, shared some laughs, but that was it.

He killed himself.

There is a shame associated with this, and people don't want to talk about it. They want to change the facts. But, as I've mentioned in previous posts:

They say “suicide is the coward’s choice.” I disagree. It is the “cornered’s” choice. It is the oppressed’s choice, the abused’s choice, the last choice. I use to believe it was a selfish choice, and now I believe it’s a selfless – albeit warped – choice. No one walks into the gallows unaccompanied.
Someone is always there, with the knife to their back.

He killed himself because the weight of who he wasn't was bearing down on him. His failures as perceived by others crept into the back of his mind.

Or maybe they were hammered in, and often, by the people he was most in contact with.

So I'm writing this for you, Phil, because you deserve to be remembered for who you were - not for what you lacked, and because I am not ashamed. 

Phil was a father. A Marine. He was a proud American - seriously, he really really loved the US - but loved his Japanese wife even more. So much, that he moved there to be with her, and raise their family. He was a husband.

An adoring, proud father.

He was a hard worker, and sometimes he drank a little too much. But I think he did that because he had a really big heart, and he internalized everything. It softened the blows.

Phil was the kind of guy who'd listen to you, empathize, cheer you up, share a song or two, and then check in on you the next day.

He genuinely cared.

He was an open book. Anything you wanted to know, he'd tell you.
He was a not just a storyteller, but a story itself.

So here comes the call to action, the part where you come in: evaluate yourself for a moment. What role are you playing in the lives of others?

Isn't it easier to be kind than to be judgmental and harsh?
Isn't it easier to recognize the hard work people are doing, instead of pointing out what they have yet to do?
Isn't it easier to forgive, and move forward?
And at the very least, what business is it of yours to interfere in the autonomous decisions of another?

So stop. Think.
Who are you judging?
Who are you criticizing?
Who are you trying to change?
If they haven't asked for this specifically, then just stop.

Be the kind person.
Be the supportive person.
Be the open ear.
Be the keeper of secrets.

See people for who they are, not for what you want them to be.
And be okay with that.

---

Que descanses, Phil.



Thursday, September 29, 2011

The Dilemma


I can't help but feel it, that guilty feeling. That feeling that I'm forcing people to go out of their way to accomodate an invisible illness. I can't help but wonder, "Do people exhale a sigh of relief if I decide not to join them for dinner?" Do they feel like a burden has been lifted because they don't have to "eat like me"?

I can't help but wonder, "Do people prefer if I don't go on a trip with them?" They can pack tortillas and bread into their backpacks as they head into the mountains, not a care in the world. Crackers, beef jerky, licorice, granola bars. Do they feel guilty for packing those things if I join them?

Why?

I do not care if you pack a sandwich. I do not care if you order pizza for dinner. I do not envy your powerbar. I do not miss the tortillas. My feelings are not hurt if you eat the cinnamon roll.

I don't change my eating habits for you. Why would I expect you to change your eating habits for me?

But...I can't help but wonder:

Would my parents prefer I skip Thanksgiving, so they don't feel obligated to the the wheat-less stuffing?
Do people prefer it when I decline their invitations for dinner, because they can more fully enjoy themselves?
Is it easier if I just don't eat at all?
Do people think I'm defected?
Should I pretend to eat that cookie so people don't know?
Should I just not say anything next time?
Is it okay that I write this blog?
Who am I making uncomfortable with my dilemma?
Do people think I'm just picky?
Is it okay if I don't want to pick the restaurant because I don't want this to rule my life?
Is it okay if I just eat where you want to eat? I usually make do.
Would my friends prefer I don't bring snacks to share with the class?
Is my food really all that bad tasting?
Why are people afraid to eat their food in front of me?
Why do they apologize when they eat in front of me?

I'm not starving. I'm not drooling. I'm not even desiring: that food hurts me. I don't want it. I'm not sorry I can't eat it.
I can't help but wonder:

Whose dilemma is this? It's certainly not mine.

Friday, March 12, 2010

I Am

I Am

I am too many things
I wonder how to compartmentalize each emotion
I hear the shuffling of my thoughts
I see blank spaces waiting to be filled
I want to be far away from where I am.
I am too many things

I pretend that I have control
I feel happy and sad, sure and unsure all at once.
I touch keys. computer keys. piano keys. car keys.
I worry that I may unintentionally hurt people
I cry because I miss Jamie
I am too many things

I understand that God gives us the answers.
I say that it's okay to feel your feelings outloud
I dream about eating with world class chefs.
I try to remember who I am
I hope that you don't mind my very elementary "I Am" poem
I am too many things



-----------------------
The world carries on without you
But nothing remains the same
I'll be lost without you
Until the last of days