Reverb 10 for December 19 – HEALING

December 19 – Healing. What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2011?

People, in general. This person, in particular.

Dessert crepes at Beu Monde in Philadelphia with "Flat Jesse"

*I know you’re intrigued by the little cardboard man in the photo, but you’ll have to ignore him as he is not the subject of this post. As it is, I am probably risking life and limb posting this picture here, but it’s a risk I shall take nonetheless.

2010 has been that fragile year just after the death of my father where people walk on eggshells and constantly ask you how you are doing. It’s like the rest of the world is on a surveillance mission to see if you’re going to go completely off the deep end during the grieving process. It also seemed that, in 2010, we were continually remembering my father but never really putting him to rest because of a series of events to honor him had been scheduled throughout the year, not to mention a grand portrait unveiling in November. Because I was perpetually busy during this time with classes and clinical rotations and a two-week vacation to Maine, I didn’t really consider myself in need of any healing. Afterall, I had plenty of support from mental health professionals as well to keep a tight reign on anything that might resemble a downward spiral towards depression. It’s only in retrospect that I realize that my friendship with J provided healing because she continually reminded me why life is worth living, why it can be exciting and beautiful, how the smallest acts can renew your spirit, how faith can remind you that you aren’t alone on the planet, and that taking time to be with other people is one of the most important things you can do for yourself and others.

J is a phenomenal person. In fact, she greatly reminds me of my father in that she is a carrier of that ever annoying trait that makes her seemingly immune to passing judgment on other human beings. I, on the other hand, seem incapable of forming snide opinions of people within seconds of meeting them. These opinions, no doubt, tend to drastically change over time as I get to know others.  I am usually able to keep them in the confines of my own head, but sometimes they slip out and it’s like I hear my father’s voice come out of J’s mouth and I just want to ask “how can you like everybody!?”.

J is also one of those dependable people that are increasingly difficult to find in the world and that seemed to make all the difference in 2010. I wrote an earlier post about how much I appreciate my mother because of her dependability but, she is my mother afterall and part of that comes with the territory of bringing a wee one into the world. J, is beholden to me in no way whatsoever, yet I have been able to count on her for an inordinate amount of emotional support this year. And she has been supportive in exactly the way that I need: the strong, silent way. No loaded questions of “well, just how are you these days?” or “everything alright at home?” I didn’t have to lie about my emotional state and I didn’t get any of the overly-saccharine sympathy that I had come to detest. Every comment and question and suggest was always honest and genuine.

J and I took a lot of walks in 2010 as I, yet again, tried to recommit myself to some sort of fitness routine. It’s pretty difficult to get myself to commit to walking in the freezing cold at 9am let alone to convince someone else to do it with me. At one point, we were up to 5 miles round-trip which seemed to amaze others with whom I would share this information. Our walks provided a kind of self-renewal that I hadn’t even realized that I craved or needed. Even if I balked on some mornings, J would inevitably persuade me to lace up my sneakers and off we’d go. I always felt better at the end of the trail. It was great to accomplish something. 5 miles every week was a veritable Mount Everest for me in terms of conquering my inability to commit to any fitness routine. Beyond, the steps we logged, we engaged in lengthy chats about anything and everything of a personal, ridiculous, serious, or sad nature. It was free psychotherapy. I learned to become a better listener on these walks. I tried to learn to not get so worked up about stupid, small stuff. J tends to make me want to be a better person, so mostly, I did a lot of trying on these walks: try to not interrupt, try to not judge, try to listen for what isn’t being said.

Unfortunately, our walking schedule took a major nosedive with the fall as we geared up to finish nursing school and I struggled with two unhappy kidneys. Now, J is headed off to the wilds (or at least suburbs) of North Dakota to begin her nursing career while I remain in Philadelphia to start mine. In 2011, I will still take walks, though. If I’ve learned anything at all from my father’s death, it’s that you can still talk to someone even when they’re not next to you to hear you. I’ll just be sure to keep it in my head.

Reverb 10 for December 16 – FRIENDSHIP

December 16 – Friendship. How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst?

I think I’m going to take some liberties with this prompt. My circle of friends has undergone some radical reconstruction in the past couple of years and my perspective on the world hasn’t been changed by just one person but by several persons.

If you ask my mom, she may or may not tell you about the year I was in 6th grade where she literally went all “mad black woman” on my female classmates at some middle school event. In retrospect, the whole scene was pretty hilarious and I can’t even really remember what sparked the outburst. My gut tells me that it had something to do with where the other girls were or were not sitting in relation to myself. I’m sure everyone can remember those lunchroom quibbles that ultimately devolved into tears as someone was told “oh, that seat is saved”. The whole event ended with a meeting with the principal and our teachers in the school chapel where we probably discussed tolerance, the “golden rule”, and other related Christian values. I was pretty mortified at the time, but it felt good to have my mom stand up for me. She’s good at taking one for the team.

Then there was the drama of high school where my entire group of friends was split down the middle as if we were reliving the great schism of the Catholic church when one girl accused me of lusting after her crush. It was at the time, and still is, debateable as to whether or not this boy was even heterosexual. I was friends with this boy by way of another mutual friend but had no romantic designs on him whatsoever. And despite a strongly-worded email to her, from him, on my behalf, she never spoke to me after sophomore year. The teenage female heart is hardly rational. And again, the drama led me to yet another meeting; this time with said classmate and the guidance counselor where the issue was never resolved. To further add insult to injury, this classmate’s mother was my English teacher and adviser to the only extracurricular activity that I really loved. Good grief!

I didn’t fair much better in college. My freshman year roommate and I seemed to never get along and, again, the sentiments between the two of us divided our entire floor. I never felt that warm-fuzzy feeling portrayed by the cast of 90210 or Saved by the Bell that one gets when surrounded by their best, true-blue buddies. There were always one or two confidantes, but they never seemed to truly stick if the going got rough or life changed in any significant way. The one friend I managed to make it out of Barnard with, stopped speaking to me shortly after my dad died without warning and for no discernible reason. It just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?

When I returned to Philadelphia post-Barnard, I was so distraught that my mom suggested I adopt a kitten to keep me company. My father then adopted a second kitten for me thinking that not only did I need another buddy, but so did kitty #1. By 23, I was a fully-fledged cat lady.

The story becomes remarkably brighter, though. By participating in various activities, taking classes, and enrolling in nursing school, I started adding non-furry friends to my life. And these people, these people are keepers. They’ve changed my perspective on the world because I’ve come to know what genuine, unconditional friendship feels like. They remember my birthday, they don’t stop talking to me if we quarrel, they appreciate handknit gifts, they’ve introduced me to new foods, places, and experiences. I’ve also been forced to look at the world through different lenses to consider different perspectives on politics, love, religion, social justice, etc. I know that I am supported and accepted and challenged. The changes have been gradual and I’m still learning what it means to be a good, supportive friend, but I’m pleased that I can stop looking for friendship at the PetSmart adoption center.