Acknowledgement

I had been silently crying at my desk at work for weeks.

What had started as an unexpected shower of tears while riding my bike to work one morning soon blossomed into a daily ritual of grieving openly during both my morning and afternoon commutes, which expounded into unwelcome solitary tears rolling down my cheeks to finally full-on watersheds while bean counting at my job on any given day.

I work in an office with ten guys in various degrees of their 20's, 30's, and 40's who wear jeans and hoody's, sneakers, and oversized headphones to listen to their music and Youtube videos while their eyes are drawn to one of the two or three monitors that sits atop each desk.  They don't pay much attention to anything outside of the design they create in their big boxes.  They fart, joke, burp, and lament loudly on life behind their wall-divider-sized computer screens, all without apology, in between hours of silence.  I love them.

They also provide the perfect backdrop and shelter to my unfamiliar despair.  I'm typically a work-it-out sort of gal when it comes to life challenges: there's no problem, business or personal, that doesn't have a myriad of solutions worth vetting, especially if you come at it from a non-emotional perspective.  But riding out the emotional tidal waves of an unexpected divorce has brought me to my rational knees.  The overwhelming sadness, loneliness, and isolation is almost more than I can bear at any given moment, yet I don't need to worry about causing a scene with my distress because everyone's in their own world.

I work in a man-cave of a studio.  We have tools and high-tech gadgets and games, virtual reality and 3D printers, cool beers in the fridge and an ultra modern design concept coupled with impeccable functionality.  But we don't have things of comfort, like coffee or closets or tampons or Kleenex.  So I had retrieved a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom to keep at my desk to wipe away the evidence and blow away the excess of tears.  The ultra-soft roll decreased in size rapidly as the hardest days hit me as I hid behind my screen.

One morning I arrived at the office to find a new box of tissues sitting on my desk.  One of my co-workers had noticed I was suffering and provided solace.

That seemingly small act of humanity means more to me than he'll ever know.  It said to me, "I see you; you matter."  In turn that opened the door for me to acknowledge my own pain, which is truly the only way to start healing.

Acknowledgement is everything.  I am so grateful to find it in the most unexpected of places.

Becoming That Which You Despise

During this time of year, I hear so many wondrous stories of generous souls performing good deeds, like donating money, lodging, supplies, or friendship to those in need.  I pay more attention to people paying it forward, as in buying coffee for the person behind them in line or picking up another table’s tab at dinner and notice more individuals and groups spreading general good cheer.

The end of the year also seems to highlight those less touched with the holiday bug though, doing their best to bah humbug everyone around them, like the driver honking relentlessly at the Holiday Bus and the people getting off of it to get out of the way.  Maybe it’s the person throwing a huge tantrum in the return line at Target or a client demanding unrealistic results by the end of day “or else.”  Oftentimes, those examples of people not being their “best selves” as Oprah likes to call it, are the ones that stick in people’s minds the most.

“What an asshole,” I find myself automatically thinking about that person acting badly, even a day or two later when I’m describing the situation to a family member or friend. Such judgement I reserve for him or her, for being so unkind to the store clerk, or belittling to the receptionist, or obnoxious to a family member.

And the next thing I know it’s me throwing the fit.  It’s me in the gym at the membership table demanding to be provided “separate but equal” workout machines to offset the ones I use on a daily basis that have now been roped off for personal training clients only.  It’s me looking at 5 salespeople, all eyeballing each other wondering who’s gonna take the bait, who’s gonna go head to head in order to fix this situation, or at the minimum pacify me.  It’s me having a valid complaint, one that would have been much better addressed after my workout, when I could have addressed the issue in a rational, across-the-table sort of conversation, but choosing instead to present it in the height of adrenaline, 20 minutes into my workout because I was pissed that a young trainer had asked me mid-set to move off the equipment so she could use it with a training client.  It was me making the scene because I refused to leave the equipment until I’d finished my set (go big or go home) at which point she said she’d have to call a manager.  I was the asshole.  I’m the one people won’t be able to get out of their heads!

My point is this:  every one of us occasionally, some more often that others, acts, thinks, or behaves in a way that is the opposite of ‘practicing greatness.’  Neither a public fit nor a video-captured recording of ill-intent is necessary to acknowledge that every one of us has our ‘below the line’ moments.  Owning up to that fact helps me feel closer to every human being, because it reminds me that we’re all just a hair away from being in another person’s shoes.  It also helps me practice compassion toward others. 

My “what an asshole” thought when I see someone in the heat of an unsavory moment is usually followed by, “I wonder what’s going on in that person’s world to make them react in that fashion?”  To be fair, sometimes that second thought takes minutes, hours, days, or in some cases, months later to emerge, but once considered, there’s usually more to any situation than meets the eye.

For example, what if the honking guy was trying to get to the hospital to see a parent before they passed?  What if the Target lady didn’t have the money to buy her child the coat she desperately needed for winter without the exchange money from the return?  What if the client was going to be fired from his job if he didn’t fix the situation by the end of the day.  There’s usually some sort of fear ruling the behavior.  

Even in my case at the gym, if I really have to break it down, I was fearful of not being able to have enough knowledge to perform the workout I need on another machine.  The salesperson that drew the short stick with me, calmly acknowledged there is no other machine in the gym like the one they had roped off, but asked me to describe what I usually use and how.  She then took the time to show me every other piece of equipment in the gym that could be used for the same type of workout, but with just slight adjustments in usage, as well as those machines and exercises that would “bump it up” a bit or offer an alternative.  This lady took my problem and made it a non-issue within 2 minutes.  There’s no way she could have done that without putting herself in my shoes.  I found myself apologizing to her for getting fired up unnecessarily.  

It’s easier to dig our heals into scorning someone else’s choices in a difficult situation than to consider how we might handle or have previously handled similar situations ourselves.  It’s at that brave moment of recognition, though, when each of us imagines oneself in the conflict, that tolerance grows.