I've Always Depended On The Kindness Of Strangers
Despite my views on human behavior, I really don't believe that people suck. In fact, my experience is to the contrary. People are gorgeous creatures that inspire me. Even though people do things that are devastating to life and to spirit I think that most of those people started out wanting only to do good. I empathize with the mixed up mind because I recognize those urges in myself. It will always be a mystery to me WHY people act on those impulses, but that doesn't mean I won't keep looking for answers. It is a bit of an obsession. I sit up late nights and think about it and wonder what would drive me to those ends. It scares me when I actually come up with answers. Good people sometimes do very bad things.
When I was 13 or maybe 14, a friend of mine and I spent every weekend together. She was an early bloomer and I, most definitely was not. She was gorgeous and always got attention from boys. Sometimes I benefitted from this attention by being the "pretty girl's best friend". For a girl who wanted to be the star, this was a humiliating role to play so I was always trying to one up her. I was tragically insecure and really naive. She, was not.
One weekend we decided to crash at my sister's apartment and go to the county fair in the neighboring town. Since we were drunk with freedom, being at my sister's place and being at the fair alone, we dolled ourselves up pretty and went trolling for our favorite kind of boys...the older variety. I'll never forget that night. We met a group of boys and flirted, went on rides, and hung out behind the horse stables. She had the attentions of every boy in the group, except for the handsome leader's sidekick. He got me. We were sidekicks. I might have been able to live that down and delude myself about my social standing if she hadn't taken an unusual tactic to curry these boys' favor. She began making me the butt of all her jokes. I was livid, but tried to brush it off with good humor but I knew that no matter what I did, she was making me look like a collassal ass and my smiling and accepting face and feeble comebacks weren't helping either.
When we got back to my sister's apartment we each snatched a beer and fell asleep on the floor. The next morning we were reliving the previous evening's escapade when she started doing it again. She started needling me and it was like reliving this ego nightmare from the night before. I was in a rage. I hated her. I hated her for being so pretty. I hated her for knowing how to play boys so well. I hated her for putting me down. I hated me for not being her. The next thing I know I was standing over her with a steak knife screaming at her to stop it. She rightly guessed that I was totally serious and she ran around the apartment as I chased her, screaming explitives and waving the knife high over my head. I remember when I finally cornered her I saw how scared she was and something snapped into place in my brain. I dropped the knife and started to cry.
There was a tiny mechanism inside of me that stopped me from tearing her to shreds. It was a mechanism installed sometime in my very early years and I'd be hard pressed to tell you the moment it was installed. But I remember how that terror in her face stopped everything. How different would my life have been if I hadn't learned empathy as a small child? I could have been one of those freak kids pasted all over the front page and branded a demon. It was a split second that could have changed my life in a totally different direction. What saved me (and my friend) was that I was able to rapidly process emotional information about myself AND another human being and that is what stopped me. If I didn't have that mechanism, if somehow I wasn't able to process that information and make a decision would that moment have turned me forever into a bad person? I shudder to think.
I think, on the whole, I am a rather kind person. But sometimes I do things I really wish I hadn't. Or sometimes I DON'T do things I really wish I had.
A few weeks ago I accompanied a friend of mine to the hospital so she wouldn't have to have surgery alone. I took her there at 5:00 in the morning and waited until she was completely out of the anesthesia late in the afternoon. I made sure her things were in order and advocated for her to the hospital staff. That was a pretty nice thing to do, right? Well, her roommate was an older woman who was alone and nearly blind. She was waiting to have some kind of surgery on her eyes but the staff was rather unresponsive to her pleas for information. It was pretty clear that this woman did not have "good" insurance and her care was not a high priority for the hospital staff. She was on the phone all day talking to her kids who lived out of state. She was crying and totally distraught. I wanted to help her, but was truly unsure how to go about it. What could I do? I helped her read the card a social worker gave her to her son over the phone. I told the nursing staff that she was distressed and needed some assistance but a nurse merely came in and rolled her eyes at her telling her that the doctor would talk to her later.
I was so upset by how rude this woman was to her and mortified that someone would be treated this way. But did I go and make a complaint? No. I avoided the situation because I felt totally helpless. I wanted to go and comfort her or something...but what would she say? Would she be okay with some strange woman coming in and holdingher hand? She probably would have appreciated it, but I was scared. I was irrationally frightened of the hospital environment and her emotional state. I didn't know what would happen so I did not take the risk. I went for a walk.
My friend, however, DID complain to the social worker later that day and reported the nurses who were rude to this woman and the social worker called me to ask me about what I saw. I felt pretty sheepish because I hadn't done anything except told the staff that she was distraught. Does my lack of action make me a bad person? You may argue that it doesn't and if it doesn't what would you say about people who turn away from other, more dire situations? The emotions are, I imagine, much the same but the consequences far greater. What kind of bravery would you need? How good would you have to be?
Out of any specific context we all would like to think that we are good enough and strong enough to do "the right thing", but you never really know until the moment arises. These kinds of situations can give you a clue as to how you might REALLY respond. You can rightly assume that my mettle would be severely tested and I am no longer ashamed to admit it. Does this make me "bad"?
I've done good things. Some of the things I have done have been very good, but most of them did not involve a personal risk. Leaving a pair of warm pants for a sleeping homeless woman in January whose pants were all tattered and soiled did not require much of me beyond a pair of pants. Taking my friend to the hospital was simply an investment of time. Being friendly to anyone who talks to me with respect on the street does not cost me a thing. I'm nice. But am I "good"? What standard would I have to live up to?
People don't stop learning at 5 or 8 or 18. I am still learning about myself and others. I am learning about our similarities and differences, and not just culturally but in ways that are fundamentally human. I will say that I am humbled by the journey and honestly hope to remain so.
When I was 13 or maybe 14, a friend of mine and I spent every weekend together. She was an early bloomer and I, most definitely was not. She was gorgeous and always got attention from boys. Sometimes I benefitted from this attention by being the "pretty girl's best friend". For a girl who wanted to be the star, this was a humiliating role to play so I was always trying to one up her. I was tragically insecure and really naive. She, was not.
One weekend we decided to crash at my sister's apartment and go to the county fair in the neighboring town. Since we were drunk with freedom, being at my sister's place and being at the fair alone, we dolled ourselves up pretty and went trolling for our favorite kind of boys...the older variety. I'll never forget that night. We met a group of boys and flirted, went on rides, and hung out behind the horse stables. She had the attentions of every boy in the group, except for the handsome leader's sidekick. He got me. We were sidekicks. I might have been able to live that down and delude myself about my social standing if she hadn't taken an unusual tactic to curry these boys' favor. She began making me the butt of all her jokes. I was livid, but tried to brush it off with good humor but I knew that no matter what I did, she was making me look like a collassal ass and my smiling and accepting face and feeble comebacks weren't helping either.
When we got back to my sister's apartment we each snatched a beer and fell asleep on the floor. The next morning we were reliving the previous evening's escapade when she started doing it again. She started needling me and it was like reliving this ego nightmare from the night before. I was in a rage. I hated her. I hated her for being so pretty. I hated her for knowing how to play boys so well. I hated her for putting me down. I hated me for not being her. The next thing I know I was standing over her with a steak knife screaming at her to stop it. She rightly guessed that I was totally serious and she ran around the apartment as I chased her, screaming explitives and waving the knife high over my head. I remember when I finally cornered her I saw how scared she was and something snapped into place in my brain. I dropped the knife and started to cry.
There was a tiny mechanism inside of me that stopped me from tearing her to shreds. It was a mechanism installed sometime in my very early years and I'd be hard pressed to tell you the moment it was installed. But I remember how that terror in her face stopped everything. How different would my life have been if I hadn't learned empathy as a small child? I could have been one of those freak kids pasted all over the front page and branded a demon. It was a split second that could have changed my life in a totally different direction. What saved me (and my friend) was that I was able to rapidly process emotional information about myself AND another human being and that is what stopped me. If I didn't have that mechanism, if somehow I wasn't able to process that information and make a decision would that moment have turned me forever into a bad person? I shudder to think.
I think, on the whole, I am a rather kind person. But sometimes I do things I really wish I hadn't. Or sometimes I DON'T do things I really wish I had.
A few weeks ago I accompanied a friend of mine to the hospital so she wouldn't have to have surgery alone. I took her there at 5:00 in the morning and waited until she was completely out of the anesthesia late in the afternoon. I made sure her things were in order and advocated for her to the hospital staff. That was a pretty nice thing to do, right? Well, her roommate was an older woman who was alone and nearly blind. She was waiting to have some kind of surgery on her eyes but the staff was rather unresponsive to her pleas for information. It was pretty clear that this woman did not have "good" insurance and her care was not a high priority for the hospital staff. She was on the phone all day talking to her kids who lived out of state. She was crying and totally distraught. I wanted to help her, but was truly unsure how to go about it. What could I do? I helped her read the card a social worker gave her to her son over the phone. I told the nursing staff that she was distressed and needed some assistance but a nurse merely came in and rolled her eyes at her telling her that the doctor would talk to her later.
I was so upset by how rude this woman was to her and mortified that someone would be treated this way. But did I go and make a complaint? No. I avoided the situation because I felt totally helpless. I wanted to go and comfort her or something...but what would she say? Would she be okay with some strange woman coming in and holdingher hand? She probably would have appreciated it, but I was scared. I was irrationally frightened of the hospital environment and her emotional state. I didn't know what would happen so I did not take the risk. I went for a walk.
My friend, however, DID complain to the social worker later that day and reported the nurses who were rude to this woman and the social worker called me to ask me about what I saw. I felt pretty sheepish because I hadn't done anything except told the staff that she was distraught. Does my lack of action make me a bad person? You may argue that it doesn't and if it doesn't what would you say about people who turn away from other, more dire situations? The emotions are, I imagine, much the same but the consequences far greater. What kind of bravery would you need? How good would you have to be?
Out of any specific context we all would like to think that we are good enough and strong enough to do "the right thing", but you never really know until the moment arises. These kinds of situations can give you a clue as to how you might REALLY respond. You can rightly assume that my mettle would be severely tested and I am no longer ashamed to admit it. Does this make me "bad"?
I've done good things. Some of the things I have done have been very good, but most of them did not involve a personal risk. Leaving a pair of warm pants for a sleeping homeless woman in January whose pants were all tattered and soiled did not require much of me beyond a pair of pants. Taking my friend to the hospital was simply an investment of time. Being friendly to anyone who talks to me with respect on the street does not cost me a thing. I'm nice. But am I "good"? What standard would I have to live up to?
People don't stop learning at 5 or 8 or 18. I am still learning about myself and others. I am learning about our similarities and differences, and not just culturally but in ways that are fundamentally human. I will say that I am humbled by the journey and honestly hope to remain so.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 7:41 AM
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