The Kindness of Strangers

The music: La Mer Opale, by Coralie Clement
The wine: Pinot over ice. It's hot as the 9th circle of hell here.

If I had fifteen minutes off, I would flee to the sea. I would float, ears submerged, listening to the sounds of the ocean. It's been that kind of day. Instead I am listening to the subtle chord changes from major to minor and the sound of the water in a favorite piece of music. This day was a thousand years long, with a thousand lessons in it. I record them here only to remind myself, so I can be less stupid the next time. In future writings, perhaps I can shape them more appropriately, less personally.

I woke up this morning to find that two people very important to me had...well...dumped my ass. One was a family member, the other someone I had cherished for years as a friend. No explanation of course, just...well, you know how dumping goes. No one ever has the balls to tell you to your face. Ironically, both of these people have been telling me for so long..."Oh you are so wonderful" and "Oh you are so beautiful." Well, beware when these words are spoken to you because apparently what it really means is, "I can no longer stand to be around you." And so I write, and comfort myself with the illusion that someone, somewhere, is out there listening. It's okay if you don't, I confess I'm a little bitter tonight. The family member, well, let's just say I'm used to it. I'm basically an orphan, without family. I've gotten used to being disowned and excluded, it's happened too many times. The friend, well, it was always touch and go. Still, I did my best. Sometimes when you are ridiculously happy it really turns people away from you. I just never thought it would be them. I so wanted them to be happy, along with me. Be happy for me, be happy with me, be happy. I would do the same for you. When will I ever learn? All "love" is conditional. There is no other kind, even from family. Especially from "family". The only unconditional love is the love you give yourself.

Still, today, there was the incredible kindness of strangers. My patients with dementia have kind families, and for a moment each day I get to participate in that, and those who have no families appreciate the love and care I try to give them. A wonderful man who changed my tire in a parking lot. The beautiful, incredible photography in my email from a former patient. The son of one of my patients who gave me an unexpected gift. The patient I will forever think of as "Black Santa Claus." "He's so happy when you are around" his wife told me. "He said you make him feel better. I've never been able to get him to do what you can get him to do in 45 minutes." These moments bolster me through a day, get me through temporary sadness. The friend who dumped me used to send me poetry, and I will miss that. The family member, well, it was family. There are only a few people in the world I am actually related to by blood, and it hurts that apparently they cannot manage to be around me. This is the price of happiness, of success. But one goes on, wiser for the experience.

I remember one time I was very upset about something, and I approached two people I considered friends. I was quite upset, actually crying. And I asked them if they would talk with me for a while. They just stared at me. "Please?" I asked. It won't take long, and I would appreciate it." Still they just stared at me silently. Then they resumed talking to each other. This is why writers write.