Originally written January 15, 2024 Relationships have been the through-line of all my writing. The core foundation of every relationship is communication. What I’ve found over the years to be generally true for the less intentioned is:
I have found that because I am an open communicator, a truth-speaking person who is generally comfortable communicating whatever is on my mind, people assume they know everything there is to know about me. They keep up with my social media, read my blogs, schedule me for check-in calls and ask the generic questions that would be ice-breakers with strangers: How are you doing? How’s work? As the years advanced and my friendships and familial relationships thinned and flatlined, I lamented that no one knew me in the moments of my life. They didn’t know me on that day – the day we talked about mild frustrations and deferred hopes. No one was familiar with my daily life, processes, routines, thoughts, plans – the internal person driving the human shell. They may eventually learn what I thought about what happened before we talked. They may hear what I intend to do after we talk. Very rarely does anyone want to know the present. Where are you now, today. How do you feel in the space you’re currently occupying? What’s on your mind? How’s your spirit? How’s your heart? What do you need? Conversations with strangers can prove to be far deeper and more meaningful than the social routine of speaking with family and friends. Strangers have nothing to lose. Chances are, you’ll never see each other again. They will have no presence in your life beyond the moment you share physical and companionable space.
Juan: “I’m ready to end it all.”On a recent ride, I was made speechless. Completely at a loss for words and horribly concerned with saying anything harmful or offensive. I’m rarely surprised by the things people choose to share with me. I learn a lot by engaging and receiving their words as a true expression of who and where they are. My ride with Juan was under fifteen minutes. Afterwards, I parked and turned off the app and talked with him for another fifteen to twenty minutes. Everyone who gets in my car is greeted with a “Hello,” and “How are you doing?” Some people beat me to it. Some return the greetings. Few grunt and don’t say anything. Often, folks will engage in light banter. Rarely, people will answer with an echolocator of where they truly are. Juan got in, exchanged greetings and shared that he is not good. He’s not comfortable where he lives so he didn’t want to wait outside for me. He’s extremely depressed because he can’t keep a job. He’s already written his note and informed his parents that he’s ready to end it all. In my stunned silence, I tripped on his words. Looking at him in the rearview mirror, I searched for some indication that he didn’t mean what his words sounded like. “When you say, end it all, do you mean…?” “Yes. I do. I’m ready.” I’m sorry to hear that.” He shrugged. I apologized for saying sorry as he had made a decision, but was sorry that he didn’t see another way around where he was in life. I don’t remember all my questions or comments. It did cross my mind repeatedly that a man ready to end his life could be a danger to me. I kept forcing that thought out and continued engaging with the hope of hitting on something he could hold on to or work towards. A couple of times he curbed my questions by saying he didn’t want to go into any particulars. By and large, he shared a story that has so many elements in common with so many: abuse, ongoing violation, parental exploitation and neglect, low self-esteem and sense of worth, loss of autonomy, unemployment, inability to adequately care for himself. Juan is in his mid-thirties and was made to perform mental instability as a child for benefit checks. He blames his father, who remains a continued presence in his life and continues to receive his benefit checks. He did not want to acknowledge that his mother is also culpable. I insisted on pointing out that she is indeed as guilty as his father as she would have been aware of any medication prescribed and given to him for ailments he didn’t have. Juan shared that the result of taking drugs for over twenty years for mental instability is that he became mentally unstable. He shared that at one point, he was on twenty-five medications and has had several electro-shock treatments throughout his life. This was beyond horrifying to hear. At one point, I asked if he was able to live independently. He said he had his own apartment, but his father was his guardian and payee. He has been unable to become his own payee to have his father removed as guardian. He shared that his family moved from the Caribbean to Milwaukee when he was eleven. I asked if he had other family members he could ask to stay with a for a couple of months. I asked if there was any place else he would like to be or see or experience? He hated Milwaukee. Nothing good has happened to him in this city. He couldn’t think of anyone and couldn’t see himself leaving. The organized religion in me insisted I ask about his faith. “Are you a believer?” “I used to be.” “What changed?” “My parents taught me to believe in God.” “At some point, after your parents taught you, you still chose to believe. Why did you stop believing?” “I didn’t think a god would allow my father to do what he’s done to me.” He’s the middle of three children. I then asked if he trusted his siblings enough to ask one or both to intercede on his behalf? To perhaps become his guardian or payee to help him ease away from his father. He shook his head in the negative. I turned to him and said, “In that case, you’re going to have to do all this for yourself, Juan.” If there’s no one you can trust, no one who has cared enough to help you, even as they witnessed it all, you have to figure out how you can make the necessary changes for yourself.” “I know where you’re coming from. I understand how you feel. There was a point where I also wanted to end it all. And I’m sitting here telling you, that you can get through it.” He looked skeptical. “No one has ever asked to be abused, violated or traumatized.” He agreed that isn’t a thing. “Yet, I sit here, and I can tell you that I am grateful for the things that hurt me, because I see you. I empathize with you. I understand you and your desire.” His quiet gentle nod was connection. “There have been many times I’ve talked to friends and family who lack enough empathy to simply acknowledge what I was saying. I know what it means to have someone see you and feel your emotions.” “I will tell you that the best thing I ever did for my life was to get out of the environment that was killing me. I had to get away from the people who were suffocating me. Environment is so important. Milwaukee sucks. I agree. I can’t stand it. When I was about your age, I moved away, and I stayed away for almost two decades. I didn’t think I would be gone for so long. But something wonderful happened: I found out who I was on my own away from everything and everyone that was destroying me. “You can do that for yourself. You can give yourself the opportunity to live away from this.” He thanked me for my words and reiterated that his date was set, and he was ready to go. After he got out of my car and disappeared into his apartment building, I prayed and cried. My heart simply broke open for him. I prayed for God to pour His Spirit into Juan and give him something to grasp and hold on to in order to keep moving forward. Will: “I know God has a sense of humor – He made me!”I picked Will up on a zero degree day. I had passed by his pick-up address and was turning around when I saw him waving at me from across a wide median covered in two and half feet of snow. I rolled down my window and told him I’d come back around. When I pulled up, he jumped in with enthusiasm. Our greetings sort of darted pass each other, as he hurriedly exclaimed, “My fault! My fault!” While I was telling him I hadn’t even seen the driveway/alleyway he was standing in that led to the address in the app. He didn’t have a coat. He was in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. “Naw, it was my fault. I ran back inside. I wanted to be out here waiting for you, but at the same time, I didn’t want to freeze!” “No worries! I completely understand. That’s why you need a coat!” He asked how my day was going. I told him he was my second ride. I had wanted to get up for the church crowd, but ended up getting more sleep than I normally do. So perhaps I’d catch the church folks on the trips back home. I looked at him through the rearview mirror, “You know the church folks gone show up no matter the weather.” “Oh, I know! My grandma used to make me go with her. I used to always be like, ‘Why I gotta get up and go to church with you?’ But she died last year. Now, my mama wants to go to church all the time. And… I don’t mean to sound like this… but my mama wants me to go with her all the time… but….” “It’s your mom’s way of feeling close to your grandma.” “Yeah.” “My mama keeps telling me that I gotta love God above everything and everybody. Even her. Even my kids when I have them. I can’t be mad at Him about Grandma.” “Ooooh… that’s a hard one, but so very true. Eventually, understanding comes.” “I think I get it. I ain’t got much going on, people look at me and all they see is a thug, but I know God has equipped me with enough to get through life and I’m hustling the shit outta everything I got. I’m making it work!” “You get it! I love that. It’s all any of us can do: know that we have everything we need for life and make all of what we have work for us. Grandma made sure you got what you needed!” Many people struggle with faith. He exhibited so much in such a simple way. He didn’t want the exposure or the church, but he received the Spirit with an open heart. As crass as his language was at times, it was absolutely wonderful hearing him share about himself. “I know God is real,” he continued. “And I know God has a sense of humor because He made me. Imma a funny m-f-ckr! I know Jesus is up there talking to God like, ‘Look at that crazy lil’ m-fckr down there!’” “Okay! Stop!” ** full throated chuckle** “Jesus is NOT saying that!” “Well, maybe not those words, but God certainly has a sense of humor for making me the way I am.” Over the next few minutes, the conversation flowed into him learning that his girlfriend had cheated on him. When she told him about her behavior, she blamed him for her actions. She told him he wasn’t available. She was drunk. The other guy was there and wanted to have sex. What was she supposed to do? I asked if she told him the other guy just fell into her. “Basically! Like, it all just happened, but blaming me like I was there. Like I was the one who spread her legs and pushed him in. I told her, “If you didn’t want it to happen, then that’s rape and we need to talk about that. But if you wanted it to happen and it happened, then you had sex with someone else and you’re not taking responsibility for it.” “Good for you for separating her lies from the truth!” “Yeah, she really thought she could tell me anything. I used to have low self-esteem. I was fat and wasn’t much to look at. I’m still heavy, but I’m comfortable with my body and my looks now. I like who I am. But I think people look at me and think they can take advantage. And I have to tell them, ‘Imma a KING! That ain’t gone work over here!’” Oh, my goodness! How I wanted to hug him! “She’s thirty-four and it’s like she likes these young guys….” “She’s a predator. It sounds like she picks young men so she can do and say whatever she wants. That’s a form of control. Good for you for seeing it.” “I’m gonna tell you this – you from Milwaukee, so you know what I mean. I’m twenty-four and the young boys in the hood call me an OG.” I chuckled, “Seriously?” “Yeah, seriously.” He got solemn. “I want them to become OG’s. Life is such that me living to be twenty-four isn’t common here. They think I’m this old man, and I just want to get old.” What could I say to that? Ryan: “Do I really want to do this for the next thirty years?”I picked Ryan up for a game watch-party. He had to wait a bit as I needed to stop for gas before getting to him. So, my greeting included an apology for my delay. He was gracious and insisted he was only going to hang out at a bar with a friend. There was a bit of small talk with throwaway comments about all the social movement around town on such a frigid Sunday. This flowed into our past and present work commutes. He works in a suburb and drives about twenty-five miles each way. “I think that’s my limit” he said. “I’m new on the job, but I’ve already wondered if this will be my life for the next thirty years.” “I think twenty to twenty-five minutes is about my limit as well,” I replied. “When I lived in New York City, my longest commute was about forty-five minutes. I didn’t feel it because it was by train. I could sit and…” “Sleep,” he inserted. “…yes, sometimes I slept! But I could read, listen to music, write, review work, plan – whatever. But when you’re driving, that’s all you can do.” “Yeah. It’s a bummer because you also think about what else you could be doing. I have a buddy who graduated with a finance degree. He called the other day to say he’s going back to school for a medical degree. It got me thinking, ‘If I don’t want to do what I’m doing now for the rest of my life, what else would I do?’ I decided to ask my friends that question to see what they say. Then figure out what my next move will be. “Ahhhh! May I suggest, before you start asking people for their opinions, that you write down what you want to do with your life? Write down the pros and cons of where you are now and what you envision for yourself. Think about what type of life you want and what you will have to do to achieve that life.” “You’re young. Your youth is for building your resume and experience. This is the time you do all the things you won’t want to do in ten years. Right now, a long commute doesn’t matter. In ten years, if you have a wife and children, that time is more precious. Maybe you’ll want the option to work closer to home. Now is the time you put yourself in position to have what you need later.” “It doesn’t matter what your job is. It matters what you want to do with it. Say you love the outdoors, and you get a job as an accountant working all day with no windows. You’re going to be miserable. Alternatively, if you know how you want your work to benefit your life, no matter what your job is, you can select projects that will get you closer to that goal. For example, a couple of managers need extra eyes and hands for their workload. One does nothing for you – no impact on your workload or skills. And you have no interest in it. The other will help you get to where you want to go. It adds a level of understanding for your function and allows skill practice. Look for options that will build your skills within a role that’s paying the bills for you.” “You’ll learn not many people are interested in helping you build your career, but almost everyone is open to getting help for theirs. Be a helper. Ask around the office if there’s any work folks need done when you have time. They won’t praise you for adding to your resume, but you will hear them talk about how much you helped them with their project. Source: https://harvest-life.org/2025/04/07/three-incredibly-vulnerable-conversations-with-strangers/
You’re currently a free subscriber to Harvest Life on Substack. For the full experience, upgrade your subscription.
|
Wednesday, July 2, 2025
Three incredibly vulnerable conversations with strangers
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Latest from Food Politics: Weekend reading: Mushrooms
Every food is its own industry, and mushrooms are no exception. Want to sell more mushrooms? Let everyone know about their cognitive a...
-
LuciD posted: " The first duty of love is to listen. ~Paul Tillich " Respond to this p...
No comments:
Post a Comment