Like most people, I have had both struggles and triumphs in my life. We all get through the tough times the best we can, and hopefully we celebrate the good times as well. The problem with both of these situations is people. Because basically, people suck.
We all know, when times get rough, we find out who our true friends are. They are the ones who stand by us and help us get back to some semblance of normal. The ones who listen while we cry, make us laugh when we don't really want to, hold our hair while we puke, float us cash when we're broke. They drive us to the hospital or pick us up from. They bring us food and make us eat it. They bring us groceries and make us accept them. They remind us that we are enough. They show us that it does eventually get better. They babysit for us, defend us in public and private, and if they are the type to do so they pray for us. The real friends among us always ask "What can I do?" The best friends among us don't even have to ask. They just do it.
Then there are the rest of the people in your world. The ones who instead start every sentence with "You know what you should do..." These are the ones who believe that, if you just listen to them and do what they say, your problems will disappear overnight. They pop up in times of distress, from everywhere. Always with helpful little hints.
You know what you should do? You should start dating. As soon as possible.
You know what you need to do? You need to kick him to the curb and not put up with that shit!
You know how to fix this, right? You need a good diet and exercise program. No carbs, no gluten, no sugar. And smoothies. Lots of smoothies.
You know what that kid needs? A good ass whoopin'.
You know you have to quit smoking now, right?
You get the point. No matter what is wrong, they have some tidbit of advice that will make everything all better immediately. And you'd better listen, because if you don't and things come crashing down, they will not help you pick up the pieces. Why would they? If there's one thing these fake friends know, it's that if it worked for them it should work for everybody. If you had only listened to them in the first place, none of this would have happened!
But sometimes, good things happen. To all of us. You get that promotion or your dream job. You recover from something. You take that trip you've been dreaming of for years. You find the partner of your dreams. You welcome a child or a grandchild. You buy a house, or a car, or a cupcake.
This is a good time to see which friends are real, too. You can tell them by their smiles and the way they are saying "That's great! I'm so happy for you!" or something similar. The fake ones? They'll be saying something along the lines of "Must be nice."
I wish I could just take off and travel the world like that.
She'll regret that later.
A new car? You should always buy used. They lose value. A foreign car? You should always buy American. How un-patritiotic. A new build? You should rent for a while instead.
Someday maybe I'll have enough money to look like that.
It makes me cringe. Every time. And what should one's reply be to such remarks? I hear "Must be nice" and my gut response is "Yes, it is." But then it looks like I'm the one being petty. So we smile and nod, pretend that the person speaking is not being wildly inappropriate, and continue on our way. Why? Why do we do this? It's not our job to justify the response of others, but yet we do it.
I have learned however, in my forty plus years of life, that we can't change other peoples' behavior. We can only change our reaction to it. So if you hear me say I'm happy for you or I congratulate you, I mean it. And whatever good is happening to you, I want you to enjoy it and have more, because being happy is awesome. And if you are having a problem and I tell you how to solve it without even taking your life into consideration, please just slap me. Remind me that it's not my job to make you stop puking, it's my job to hold your hair. Because that's what friends do. And when you have true ones, yes. It is nice.
No comments:
Post a Comment