I had one of those conversations with a friend tonight that you remember.
He has struggled with mental health issues his entire life. He has enough stories to fill several books. I asked him what had been the hardest thing. He paused for a moment and then looked me right in the eye, “Me.”
He said the hardest thing in life was not to have hard things. He said the hardest thing was to have hard things and somehow not become a victim. And that he said he was good at.
He explained it simply. “He said it is so easy to get caught up in the injustice of life. When being done wrong defines my life I tend to find it in each moment. Everything becomes about striking back. I became very angry and felt very cheated even in the smallest of things. I became a resentful and hateful human being who appreciated
nothing and expected every person and every situation to pay for the cards dealth me. I was incapable of having a conversation that wasnt a complaint.”
“Other times I felt so overwhelmed and so overpowered by what I saw as the reality of my life. I did nothing but mourn for what happened, what was happening and what I thought was going to happen.”
“Life was hard. The bipolar was an ongoing torture. But I dont think it ever did the damage to me I did to myself. I covered myself up with being a victim and wasted so many years.”
He said the kindest thing I ever did for myself was to learn it wasnt about me. Some of the worst things in life just simply are. “I dont know why I got the cards I got. I guess I have just decided everyone has to have cards. And these are mine. And I have learned that lifes blessings and kindnessess mean so much more to me now. The world is so small when all you see is what is in the mirror.”
It was a good night for me. It was a good night for a friend.