Personal Empathy Narrative
With the countless information we have today of empathy, mental health, and its relations, I tended to think they did not apply to me. Generally, I like to think of myself as a well-balanced person. What this statement means is I sympathize with people and their unfortunate experiences but put a wall up when someone tries to commune with me or my pain. A while back, I was going through a crisis, a personal matter if we are specific. I had a toxic friendship where my partner took the time to belittle, humiliate, and barrage me at any given a chance. You see, I never thought of myself as being the victim, but instead tried to ”feel” for these problems they were going through. Their parents were going through a divorce, had several financial difficulties, and were facing challenges in redefining themselves as a child of a broken home. There I was, as loyal as a lap dog unwilling to let go of a person who spewed hatred long before this unfortunate array of incidents. Several ”off-side” remarks in public about my weight, my looks, and my intellect, my friends saw the signs and urged me to get out, but I did not. I slid into a state of depression, a typical case of unrequited love covered with rejection. The twist in my story is that the cleaner found me crying one day, the cry that leaves one heaving because the tears cannot come. This man, with the calloused hands from decades of hard work, sat with me and knew the right words to say to lift my spirits. I knew his wife was battling a degenerative disease, and his daughter was in the hospital, surviving from a domestic abuse incident. A failed relationship was nothing compared to what he was going through, but he was able to see through my pain. He said the following words in his heavily accented English, ‘’Do not let my pain rob you of yours.’’ And there on that green bunch with the faded graffiti, I found a glimmer of hope on that cold Saturday afternoon.
I was always there for my friends, and as many life coaches tell us, you have to be there for yourself. The people around me still have issues, cutting so deep than my own. One of my closest friends sat by his mother’s bedside, feeding her soup as she lay dying of cancer. In this case, I tried putting myself in his shoes, imagine if it was me in his shoes. I had no words to say to him; I would sit there and be engulfed in his sorrow. Then, I did not know if I was helping him. I was embarrassed that I did not know the right words to say, but he always had the corniest of jokes to keep me smiling. The thing with empathy or its experience is that you can only go as far as your individuality allows you. I believe I am a good friend; maybe it is because the issues heavy on my heart would seem like an easy load for others. Thinking of my friend or the compassionate gardener, I hope to radiate such positivity in healing others when I face my mountain. Empathy is what makes us human; on its platform, we forget societal expectations and strip to reveal our bare selves. It is different for different people; there is no formula on how to apply it. What applies to Paul may not apply to Paula, or so the saying goes.
I am better today, slowly but surely regaining my self-confidence. All this effort is because a kind man sat with me on a bench, and got the turmoil behind an aching heart. His age and his wisdom gave him bitter experiences, but his decisions made him reach out to another; me. My friend lost his mother, she died in his arms, and he tells me I was there for him. I find it hard to believe him as I failed to have the right words to say to him. I only hope I was a comfort to him as the gardener was to me. If I was, then I understand the solace empathy gives.