Greetings from 2:11 in the morning...I am scheduling this post to publish at 11:15am so I do not scare the bajeesus out of anyone whose smartphone is next to their beds. For the first time in a while, I am thankful that my pain meds after the bike accident were still sitting in the medicine cabinet.
Which will make blogging interesting.
I posted a blog about lifelines in knitting yesterday, and then reading people's comments on it made me think about what is going on in my life. Too many parallels to count, I think. It sounds ridiculous, but I am not above sounding ridiculous.
Here is the post: http://blog.loveknitting.com/the-ever-helpful-lifeline/
I have said ever since my dad died that I think my purpose here on this planet is to get people to the next level. That next level is whatever they need it to be. I watched Ed come and go from my life when his dad died suddenly on the anniversary of my dad's death, of a massive heart attack, a mere twelve hours after he and I were talking about how, if he wanted his strained relationship with his dad to change, he needed to fix it sooner rather than later. He was on his way to his dad's house to talk to him when he passed away.
CJ floated into my life after fifteen years, was petrified of dying after being told he had to get put on the transplant list, and the day before he landed comatose in the hospital, he told me dying no longer scared him. He woke up, asked me to marry him, and died two weeks later.
Random people at bars who feel the need to tell me their life story when I am knitting and watching the Blackhawks, and telling me, "Thanks so much...it was nice meeting you and I will take your advice" when they leave.
Dave, who needed me to leave right at the moment I did, so he could meet his soulmate.
Phil, who was rejected by me and told me way later that he needed that wakeup call, so that he would have the strength to leave his wife.
And on and on.
Someone recently came into my life, and one night over coffee, he confessed that he had done something pretty horrible that affected me. He was literally beating himself up over it to the point where it was affecting his workday several days later. When he first talked to me, I went through the hurt and anger, and then stepped back for a moment.
Here is a new friend who has had so much go on in his life in the last year or so, it is a wonder he can remember to tie his shoes. We are talking all Top Five on the stress scale, except no spousal or family death. All of the other ones, though: career change, address change, familial change, marital change, physical change, financial change...all of it. No wonder he needed a break from reality. I had nothing to do with what he did. I thought a better way of handling it, looking at it that way, was to acknowledge that I was hurt but then just be there for him.
I reached out to a mutual friend, because I was concerned for him and did not know what I could do to help. Perhaps reacting with more anger would have made a difference...I don't know...but my default is definitely empathy over anger. This person told me that our mutual friend who hurt me has never really had a foundation until I showed up. Now, this person is guessing, he has no idea what to do with it.
So yes, I completely understand how ridiculous this sounds, but I get it. Most people say they were someone famous in a past life. I think I was a shaman, seriously. I think people came to me before science was a ruling discipline in both medicine and psychological thought, and I healed people. I was not a famous shaman...just someone in the village people approached for help, and, psychosomatic or not, got it.
I am his lifeline. He can rip back and start over and I will always be there for him. Unless something heinous happens, I am a friend for life. The problem is that he needs to see that for himself, try ripping back, start again, and look behind to see that I am still there.
And we all have one.