Here's a thought. If we do create our reality, then it should be equally acknowledged that we create both the good and the bad? Then why is it when someone is on the upside of life, we don't caution them in their happiness by saying "Oh, you really shouldn't feel that happy, there are other people out there that have more than you do." No, we don't. We stand beside them, patting them on the back, extolling half-hearted jealous congratulations, raising a glass, sharing a meal, and holding out a hand to receive whatever overspill of happiness they care to share.
THEN, when things go wrong, we attempt to console them by offering platitudes and unwelcome advice: "Oh, you know, you really shouldn't feel that bad, there are others that have far less than you." Perhaps at first, we still stand beside them patting them on the back, now in a gesture of consolation. Then, we don't invite them to dinner for fear that their misfortune is contagious. We try to remove ourselves from the path of overspill of negative emotions and unhappiness they need to share. And then we withdraw.
Tough times are not contagious. Excluding people from social gatherings and events only creates in those who suffer, further feelings of isolation. And where are these "friends" as the lights grow dim? Not standing there holding a flashlight to help shine a path from the darkness. What harm is there to extend an invitation to dinner or to a party, allowing them to know that they still matter?
You're right, the good friends will. The good friends will remain, trying to help as best they can, making an effort to check in with you from time to time, as long as it doesn't take too much time. And we who are left behind licking our wounds, find nary an outstretched hand to help lift us out of the darkness. The only hand being offered the laborious task of applying for public assistance. No more dinner invitations or raising of glasses to celebrate that at least you are still standing, still breathing and still possess the ability to form a coherent sentence without succumbing to hyperventilating sobs.
And after you finally make peace with the fact that these are not your true friends, you come to realize: God Bless the culling of the herd.
And God Bless those who sincerely offer to help. The offer alone is priceless. The offer alone can make you feel as if you are still cared for in someone else's eyes and you are not some neighborhood pariah. Not many of us will accept those offers of help. We fight to hold back the flames of abject humiliation lapping at our door by shielding ourselves with whatever small amount of pride we have left, finally succumbing to hyperventilating sobs once the door is shut.
And dear God, please bless those who step in and create miracles. The ones who don't look for glory. The ones who insist on offering help and make themselves anonymous, or do so with great humility. The ones who are the very perfection of compassion. My family has received from these angels who have heard our cries. You changed the world that day. The world of mine that exists in these four walls.
THAT is how you help someone in tough times. You don't ignore that they exist. You are there to celebrate that their life still matters, that they are still breathing, that they can still put one foot in front of another. You are there to listen to their complaints without judging. These former, glorious Middle Class heroes earned the right to celebrate during the upswing of success and should be equally given the right, and the respect, to allow them to mourn the dissolving of what was once their life. This is not easy for the listener because anyone worth a darn wants to help and offer comfort. By allowing the befallen to be who they need to be in those moments, it respects and honors the downturned path. A good listener does not place one more thing "to do" upon the beaten shoulders of a friend by saying "You shouldn't feel that way, it could be worse." Believe me, I'm at my own personal "worse" right now. Don't make me feel bad for feeling bad.
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