Isn’t it funny the way we (maybe just women?) sometimes divulge the dramas of our lives to total strangers simply because of the uniform a person is wearing or because of the vulnerability of the situation we are in? Like a hospital …
Something upset me yesterday and I only confided in close family members and a best friend … no way will I be slipping up and saying anything to anyone who might fancy getting on the gossip treadmill, I can’t be bothered with all that … yet, I sat there this morning in a sterile hospital room – the florid curtains holding my attention only for how desperately they were trying to make the room feel homely – spilling my guts to a lady whom I’ve only met twice including today! No names, no situation details … just the bare bones of what happened … yet it provided a feeling of cathartis in a way none of the other conversations I’d had on the matter had been able to.
And as I type this now I think to myself that, really, the reactions and opinions of such people, these strangers, seem to matter to me more in a way. It’s not just that you add their response to the wash cycle of thoughts whirling round your head about whatever drama you’re caught up in/having to deal with, and it’s not that I value their opinion more than those closest to me, it’s just that they seem to hold more weight because often their opinion is painfully honest. They owe you nothing – other than being professional and polite within the realms of the job they’re doing – they don’t really know you, and because of this they are not emotionally tied to you in any way, so agreeing with you just to please you or not hurt your feelings doesn’t factor into their response. They can tell you the truth. If they’ve been able to afford you the time, like this lady did today, they can do more for you in one conversation than a multitude of conversations with loved ones can. Strange, but it’s the truth.
Truth. Such a small word, but with such huge meaning.
© www.mypastmademe.com 2011