Finding Direction

My friend is going through a struggle.

But this blog isn't about him. I have spent the last few months jealous of several people I know. They had offered meaningful support to friends, and I wished I could just like them. Suddenly found myself given an opportunity to offer this friend some support. I didn't remember the jealousy I have been holding until now, and I haven't compared what I wanted to accomplish if my time came with what I actually did until now.

And I think that is good. Because I didn't give any answers, nor did I ask pertinent, leading questions. I guess I asked a couple direct questions, and that may have been sufficiently challenging. Instead, I offered arguments based on my own dramas. I was making statements, I hoped, which could be seen as mind-talk on his behalf. At that moment I was expressing all the frustration of not knowing how to handle the situation, of all the pitfalls one could fall into if handled in certain ways. I wanted to express, through the use of my imaginative drama, all the possible courses of action, connecting and disconnecting, at his disposal. My hope was this; by being in this place for him, he could find a way to disassociate and thereby find the path he truly wanted to take.

I am not sure if it was effective, but I realize it was not the way I wanted to handle the opportunity when I was given it. I have wanted to emulate the impressive ways others have shown support. I was jealous of their insight, of their tactics when engaging. I knew, however, that my friend wasn't looking for depth, but resolution. He was frustrated, suspicious, worried, and he wanted to find the path out of that. He wanted bolstering without pandering. He wanted to locate his own insight through the fog of his mind-talk. He wanted to work out where he was and why, so he could remap where he wanted to go. My stand wasn't adversarial. Quite the contrary, I joined his frustration; pointing out all the injustice as well as the pitfalls. I reached out and wrangled my own drama and forced it to regurgitate all the spew I would have felt were I in his shoes. And I made that leashed demon heel, so I could show him what it looked like.

I spoke to him a moment ago and asked if that was support enough. He assured me it was just as he wanted. He didn't need to know how to find his direction, he only needed to know where he was.

My support wasn't as glossy as that of which I have been jealous. It was, however, mine. And it was valuable. Emulating someone else's style is insincere. And my demon's are not just a hindrance; they can be a tool. When I practice noticing the path I am on, when I stop and look around, I develop a skill that is valuable. It is something I can offer others that is uniquely mine.