Some days I feel like the whole world has gone mad and dragged me right along with it. I re-posted this on Facebook from one of my friends simply because this is how I feel irregardless of what is going on in the rest of the world or even in my own world. I posted it as much to be a reminder to myself as to be a call out to the people I know.
The past year in my life has been pure hell in many respects and on every level you can name – friends, family, work, hobbies, social media, acquaintances … they’ve all not only stepped on me, they’ve crushed me in the dirt under their heels and walked away laughing. Some days it’s all I can do to get out of bed and face another day at it.
I’ve certainly had days of rage and yet, I’ve chosen not to inflict those on other people. Instead I wait until it’s dark and go walk around the park screaming at the top of my lungs or I get in the car and drive with the music so loud I can’t even hear myself talk. That’s how I deal with it. But to say I don’t understand how someone can be driven to the point of madness and rage would be a lie.
I’ve also had a few days this past year of absolute bliss where I felt alive and filled with love from others … the kind of love that saturates your soul until you can’t imagine living without it … like being pulled from the bottom of lake on your last breath and having someone breathe life back in you. I know that feeling.
Someone posted a quote I think by Maya Angelou “People won’t remember how you look or the words you use, but they’ll remember how you made them feel.” And I get that … because I’ve had those days in spades on both ends of the spectrum in the past months, sometimes both from one person.
Most days I feel like I’m walking on the edge of a knife over a pit of jagged glass fragments hoping I don’t slip, hoping I can manage to walk through the pain one more day and come out the other side. And not in response to things that have happened in the past or in the world around me, but in response to my everyday life, right here, right now.
Despite it all and because of it all, I believe exactly what it says above. “Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy.”
I hate what this year has given me. I hate it with every fiber of my being, with every cell in my body, with my very soul … it’s horrible and ugly and mean and hateful and unfair and grotesque and shitty and hard and sad …
and yet, it has reminded me of my own human-ness, my own need to be loved, my own desires and dreams, … who I am.
And I am no one if I don’t have the ability to love others without regard for what they’ve done to me or to anyone else. I am nothing without compassion.
But being compassionate hurts like hell some days. I don’t want to do it any more. But I scream that God will let someone show me compassion … so how can I not give it to others?
I don’t care what religion, political affiliation, sex, nationality, career, age, marital status, or financial position someone else is in. It doesn’t matter. None of that matters if they can’t show compassion to those around them … what does any of it matter?