In the past, I may have mentioned that Monday's are usually my longest day of the week. And, there is a very good reason for that. You see, every Monday evening, I commit a couple of hours of my time to a community outreach program where individuals, who have a need to talk, come to do so. Freely and of their own free will. But usually, with a lot of trepidation, fear and anxiety. They are looking for somebody, anybody really, to listen to them in the hopes that they may find some kind of release or understanding of the inner demons that possess and haunt them. Most of the time, they have this sad belief that they did something to deserve the kind of misery they find themselves in. And usually, when I hear those words, it kind of puts a stranglehold on my heart. Fortunately, I'm a listener. Not a bad one, if I do say so myself. It gives me an opportunity to let these people map out where it is they want to go. If anything, I just try to be a navigator.
I learned a long time ago, in order to be a good listener, you have to take the cotton out of your ears and stick it in your mouth. Too many times, when I needed somebody to listen to me, they usually overwhelmed me with a desire to share their own life's journey. Thus, shutting me down and making me feel discounted. I figure, it takes a lot of courage for these people to recognize that they have something that they need to unburden themselves of. How long will it take for them to find that courage again if I prematurely open my yap? Experience tells me that if I jump in too soon, then the doors close. So, I wait. Patiently. I wait for them to come to what they think is an end to where they thought they were going. And then, because I listened, I would ask them a question that would push them a little further. And a little further. Maybe it was because I remembered what it was like to be sitting where they were sitting.
Last night was no different from any other Monday night. One by one they would kind of try and sneak in and blend themselves with the walls. Trying to decide whether this was the night they attempted to find somebody who could offer them a little salvation from their, often times, self imposed torment. Actually, to be honest, I am usually the one who tries to blend in with the scenery, if only because I am actually shy by nature. The one area of my life where I do not find that to be a hindrance, is on the sports field. But that is only because of my competitive nature. They sort of have an ongoing battle behind the scenes. Anyhow, that is another discussion for another time. Last night, I guess, I found myself in the right place at the right time for somebody who was aching to break free. Wearing an ID card is a dead giveaway that you are there to help. And so, when this young person came forward, accompanied by an older gentlemen about my age, I extended my hand and invited them to sit down.
Actually, I remember having seen this young woman here before. Months earlier and looking just as lost. She told me her name and introduced me to her uncle, who was visiting from out of town and was there to support her. There was no mistaking their heritage. Native Canadians. I guess I use the term Canadian too liberally but I hope you understand. Her hair was the darkest black I have ever seen and her skin held not a single crease. Her eyes too, were as black as coal, but were as empty as though the owner had vacated them for destinations unknown. Her pain enveloped her like a halo. It was so obvious. I introduced myself and said, “So, where do you want to go?”
Within minutes, she became comfortable and supported by the embrace of her uncle, spewed forth some of the venom that had long ago poisoned her blood. Even though tears freed themselves in a steady stream, she remained strong in her desire to do battle with the shadows. A good sign, I thought. When she spoke, there was no mistaking the pride she felt for herself. These are the things I look for in order to help propel somebody forward. Look for the inner strengths. She spoke freely of the things that, she felt, made her weak. Weaknesses that were handed down to her from past generations. Her uncle continued to support her encouraging her to speak. One of the things that I remember her saying was that though, she succumbed to weakness after a period of time, that she did not want to feel as though she failed. That she was worth something and wanted to continue but needed help.
This is where I bit my tongue in order to staunch the tears that were now welling up inside of my own eyes. But I couldn't. I hesitated. Just enough. But it seemed as though that hesitation was enough for her to understand, that I understood. I spoke briefly. Explaining what it is like to feel as though you were a block of ice.......melting......to the point that you have been touched by your inner child. And now, you have to re-acquaint yourself with that inner child, discarding notions of who abandoned whom. To embrace the fear of walking down endless corridors of doorways that must be opened and explored. Separating fact from fiction and coming to grips with the reality that none of this was your own doing. You were just a by-product of somebody else's collapse. There was an acknowledgement in her eyes that made me believe that she understood what needed to be done.
Before we knew it, time was coming to an end. I had to meet with the others to discuss something about finances etc. and was preparing to say my good-byes. As I headed to the back room, they followed me, seemingly reluctant to end this little tète à tète. There appeared to be some life in those dark eyes that did not exist earlier. Letting them know that there would be future opportunity's to talk, I offered them some literature to help them find other community options should it become necessary. They both thanked me for my help for which I told them that they did more for me than I did for them. We hugged and said our good byes. I felt good, elated and hopeful. That this young person would find the courage to continue to find the answers to her struggles and forge ahead to make a life for herself. Life is funny. You shut up and listen long enough, you find out that life is not as bad as we think it is. Ya just have to look in the mirror of somebody else's soul.
