How many times did people in my life break my trust? And how many times did they break my trust in my head? Those numbers would make for one pretty pathetic pie chart: a sullen, tight-lipped Pac-Man.
A Month of Promises (pages 83-84), sentence 10: Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us.
I’m not a joiner. I didn’t object to being the center of attention, but milling around in a crowd was always cause for tightening. I never wanted to be part of the scene, down with what’s happening, up with the people. I’ve never played dungeons and dragons, nor have I ever played fantasy football.
I wasn’t much of a bar drinker, which goes hand-in-hand with not being much of a people person. I wasn’t drinking to celebrate, or even feel better. I wish I could say I was drinking to numb the pain, but even that’s not true. I was drinking to pass the time.
Today, I occasionally feel I’m a part of it all. Not that I need to feel connected to a bigger wheel of consciousness; but to somewhat step outside of myself now and again. Smiling and nodding while establishing eye contact helps.
It’s amazing how anxious some people are to comment on traffic or the weather and laugh and commiserate while riding in an elevator with strangers. Instead of finding them off-putting and annoying, I can see their wonderful want for human interaction. Not out of lonely desperation, just common decency.
We’re all searching for the same thing without really asking for it: the comfort that comes with the confirmation that yes, we are all in this together.