We’ve all had those one-sided conversations where the person clicks their tongue or offers an unconvincing “uh-huh” to your viewpoint before launching back into theirs. You know they did’t listen to a word you said. Eventually, you even question why you bother opening your mouth. I seem to be having them more and more frequently. When did the concept of a conversation being an exchange of ideas die an ignoble death?
Judging from how some of my conversation partners launch into lecturing me like a small child who needs educated while repeating concepts I already expressed, I fear that a lack of respect is the actual issue. Perhaps, they haven’t quite caught onto the fact that I have lived more than four decades already and I kind of skipped over being an actual bonafide child despite my excessively large collection of stuffed animals and other random toys.
So let me give you some perspective for those who hear I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and assume I grew up in an idealized little world where everything went my way. They seem to think I was loved and coddled and sheltered from the big bad world. But I assure you that big bad wolf has taken a few bites out of me. I turn some of my life experiences into a bit of a comedy routine because if I don’t laugh, I might be horrified and break down or cry.
My first few years of life were lived with an alcoholic. When not drinking, some people are sweet and kind and thoughtful. But if they get enough alcohol in them, inhibitions and intelligence leave the room and anything seems appropriate. Hurting animals. Encouraging the children to help assure the adage of “if I can’t have you, no one can.” Putting things through windows regardless of who or what may be on the other side. So my feelings on the Word of Wisdom are based in experience as to why such counsel would be good.
We lived in a cabin with no running water or indoor plumbing for a summer. So if you mistook me for a wilting flower, that also isn’t true. I have roughed it. Old lady me can probably do it again if necessary. Maybe don’t sell me short…
From there we eventually moved on to living on the tracks. Yes, we were so poor, we couldn’t afford to live on the wrong side of the tracks. Indeed, we paid the railroad monthly rent to assure them they had no liability should we or our property fall in front of an oncoming train. We had outdoor cats, so you can imagine I have some experience with traumatic loss.
Compliments of children having the ability to be just as cruel as adults, I was bullied for well over a decade. Before you think that one kid just needed some major help, I assure you it wasn’t just by one kid. I have the scars internal and external to prove I was bullied by a fair number of peers. Somewhere a spring pictures still reveals bruises I tried to hide because boys thought beating on me was better than therapy. I also have memories of adults joining in by asking me what I was doing to incite this. Um, honestly, I was usually just reading my book. Sorry that angered people. Some things never change.
In all of this, did it ever occur to me to assuage my own pain in a similar manner? No. I would rather help people than hurt them. Did I ignore the pain of people who made it clear they hated me? No. In fact, I would usually let them vent until they realized who was showing them compassion and wander off, stunned, “Did you see who I was talking to?” The people they turned to usually weren’t as keen to listen and certainly didn’t care. So why did I? Because someone needs to who or the whole purpose of humanity dissolves.
So if I keep telling you to look for the good, you should rest assured that it can be found. But, honestly, sometimes it has to start with us. Look for ways to help not hurt. Hurting other people never truly brings the peace you are seeking. Helping them brings so much more than peace. Try it out without expectations of being rewarded. Expectation is what ruins it.
How do I know?
Because my number one bully asked me for forgiveness eight years after graduation. For those doing math, that was eighteen years after he started torturing me to forget that parts of his life weren’t ideal. And he isn’t the only one who has felt the need to apologize. Some even apologize with more frequency. If I say I forgive you, please let me and then be better to me, yourself, and this whole world.
