But they are not doing well. They wear a fake mask, trying to hold it all together. It is exhausting for them. They swirl in a mass of conflicting priorities; the young mom with a sick child but two others seeking attention, the co-worker who is caring for a sick loved one but cannot miss another day of work or a paycheck, the teacher of your child who has just received a cancer diagnosis, the neighbor whose spouse died suddenly and without warning but must now maintain a home and do not have the capacity to even try.
We walk among these folks every day. We may be one of them. We nod, we say hi, but we never really know the sorrow that is deep inside. We hide it. They hide it. It is all so isolating.
When I meet with the bereaved I am often told of their isolation. They feel that people don't want to know about their sadness. They stop getting invited to events and parties. No one brings up the deceased. They are too afraid to open wounds. They prefer the stoic presumption of bravery. They like saying, you have moved on, things are getting better, oh good for you. They like to believe that because they don't want to really know. They want to see that you are doing 'fine'. They need that so that if a similar situation befalls them, they see that all will be ok.
They are easily fooled.
It is never really okay. People have no choice but to soldier on with open, gaping wounds and sorrow. They must "hold it together". People are depending on them. No, they don't talk about it. But at night, all alone, the facade can be put aside. They can lose themselves in sleep or TV or exercise or crying. They can take off that mask they wear for you and embrace their loss, their pain. Until tomorrow, when they put on that heavy mask once again.
This is why we need compassion. To show it to people. To hug. We need more than sad face emojis. We need to reach out to one another. Touch. Start listening. Start asking questions. Start sharing our pain. Just sitting quietly. Just being present.
The isolation is literally killing us. Pills and drinks and elicit drugs are sweeping our communities. People are anesthetizing themselves. Those walls we build are tombs. We must find ways to break them down.
A first step would be to acknowledge someone's pain. Don't ask, do. Send a text. Make a call. Send a card that says I know you are going through hell, but know I love you. Ring someone's doorbell and bring them some flowers or some treats. No words needed.
Reach out. Reach out. Just reach out in small ways.
It could literally save your life and others', too.
"Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier" ~ Mother Teresa
"Look for a way to lift someone up. And if that's all you do, that's enough." ~ Elizabeth Lesser
" Instead of putting others in their place, put yourself in their place." ~Anonymous
