Walking in the shade of love
I have a dear friend who, no matter what news they receive, is firmly convinced that the sky will fall in and the world is doomed. Several of our conversations leave me feeling drained from trying to counteract their negativity. In contrast, I have a friend once who was so optimistic about everything that I provided them with a set of pom-poms and made them official cheerleader. Their energy, while uplifting, was also tiring because of the need to always be “on.”
I mention them because they both play important roles in life. My mood swings from one to the other and back, although I like to think that I largely exist in a happy equilibrium between these extremes. There are days when I’m the cheerleader for my friends, and cheering up others, and days when I can’t see anything enjoyable in life. On some of those days, I want to scream at the cheerleaders, “Back off! I want to be miserable!” (I don’t, though. I may turn off my phone for a day, but I don’t say anything.)
Well-meaning people sometimes say the most painful things. I’ve had random people comment on my treatment, my diet or my self-care. The number of people who want to pass on THE CURE for cancer is astounding, as are the cures themselves. I can’t tell you how many people say things like, “it’s bad, but at least it’s not cancer.” I’m convinced that while they mean well, they are motivated by fear. Fear, perhaps, that they might face a similar diagnosis in the future. Fear that the yawning darkness is creeping closer because someone they know is affected. Fear that they might fall short if asked to support. Fear, perhaps, of the inadequacy because they cannot fix the problem. In their fear, I think that people don’t appreciate the impact of some of their words (like the person who sent me the “doctors don’t want to cure cancer because they won’t make money” email. Just how heartless are they?) Facing this huge, complex and seemingly insurmountable problem terrifies people, and even though there has been progress in treatment, there is still more to do.
In contrast, there are those who offer support and encouragement without the misery. The ones who will say things like, “I’m listening.” who, when hearing about planned treatment will offer to exchange stories about funny things that happened. The ones who, when you want to be miserable, leave you alone for a day or so before bugging you to come out of your shell. The ones who share articles about advancements in treatments and who offer to accompany you to do fun things. These people are also afraid, but being motivated by love, they shift focus to caring for others.
Truly, though, the world has enough dark and scary things without having to add to them. Don’t misunderstand me — I’m not suggesting that everyone should be like either my over optimistic or pessimistic friends. I am saying that when faced with painful or difficult news that we pause and respond out of love, instead of fear. Comments that affirm the human connection between people, and show caring and concern.
I mention them because they both play important roles in life. My mood swings from one to the other and back, although I like to think that I largely exist in a happy equilibrium between these extremes. There are days when I’m the cheerleader for my friends, and cheering up others, and days when I can’t see anything enjoyable in life. On some of those days, I want to scream at the cheerleaders, “Back off! I want to be miserable!” (I don’t, though. I may turn off my phone for a day, but I don’t say anything.)
Well-meaning people sometimes say the most painful things. I’ve had random people comment on my treatment, my diet or my self-care. The number of people who want to pass on THE CURE for cancer is astounding, as are the cures themselves. I can’t tell you how many people say things like, “it’s bad, but at least it’s not cancer.” I’m convinced that while they mean well, they are motivated by fear. Fear, perhaps, that they might face a similar diagnosis in the future. Fear that the yawning darkness is creeping closer because someone they know is affected. Fear that they might fall short if asked to support. Fear, perhaps, of the inadequacy because they cannot fix the problem. In their fear, I think that people don’t appreciate the impact of some of their words (like the person who sent me the “doctors don’t want to cure cancer because they won’t make money” email. Just how heartless are they?) Facing this huge, complex and seemingly insurmountable problem terrifies people, and even though there has been progress in treatment, there is still more to do.
In contrast, there are those who offer support and encouragement without the misery. The ones who will say things like, “I’m listening.” who, when hearing about planned treatment will offer to exchange stories about funny things that happened. The ones who, when you want to be miserable, leave you alone for a day or so before bugging you to come out of your shell. The ones who share articles about advancements in treatments and who offer to accompany you to do fun things. These people are also afraid, but being motivated by love, they shift focus to caring for others.
Truly, though, the world has enough dark and scary things without having to add to them. Don’t misunderstand me — I’m not suggesting that everyone should be like either my over optimistic or pessimistic friends. I am saying that when faced with painful or difficult news that we pause and respond out of love, instead of fear. Comments that affirm the human connection between people, and show caring and concern.
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