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A Pause for Cookies and Sunshine

Gut-wrenching, heart-pounding, tear-stained moments that give pause.

By Thomas SwitzerPublished 7 years ago 4 min read
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I am not sad. I am not grief-stricken. I am me, in all my glory, an emotional being that feels and thinks too much. I remember long ago a friend proclaimed, “Tommy, you can’t express this side of you, people will make fun of you.” She was right. How I wanted so much for her to be wrong. She saw what I did not want to see: a world that does not care that you are hurting. And today it gives me pause, as I watched a tear cascade down the cheek of an unknown woman in the middle of Starbucks, for the world to see her at her weakest, her most vulnerable. What will people think of her, as she tries to quietly melt away into the world? Why, instead of reaching out, does the world shy away from pain?

We do not like to think about pain. The boy across the Starbucks, waves his peace sign spread fingers across his selfie camera, or perhaps communicates to someone across the sphere of virtual existence. And yet, I suppose that if/when he feels pain, it will not be in such a public forum. No, pain is now kept secret. We must be strong so that our aggressors cannot hurt us further. Stiff upper lip and all that. Are we still attached to such ideologies of feelings? We love drama, we love the underdog. But when the underdog feels too much, we turn away. We turn off the tv, we change the station, we steer our children away from those that are feeling too much. Even politicians and pundits attack the pain, saying “look at the snowflakes.”

Isn’t pain, sorrow, grief, a part of being human? Then why is it looked down upon? Why is it treated like some sort of disease that can be picked up just by looking? Do we not show strength in helping those that are in pain? Or perhaps the world has become too callous, too self-centered, to see the suffering. I am in constant awe of the pain that surrounds me, the sorrow in eyes of those perfect selfies, hidden by the perfect filter, the perfect angle, the perfect light. I see the suffering, sopped up so that others think they are carrying on just fine. We even copy and paste those messages for the suicidal hotline, hoping that it will reach the person we aren’t looking at, the person who is in pain, who is suffocating under the weight of a long-lasting depression. We don’t call them, or text them, or send them a selfie, to say, “Hi, I’m thinking of you.” We all know what pain looks like. We all have felt sorrow. Haven’t we? Did you like going through it by yourself? Even if you had to? Didn’t you wish instead that someone saw you, and maybe didn’t do anything other than just say “Hey! I hope your day gets better.” Letting them know they are not alone in this crazy, messed up, chaotic world we call our life.

Today, I reached out. Today, I said to the woman, “I am glad the sun is coming out.” She looked outside, almost in awe, and said, “I didn’t even notice it was not.” She dried her eyes. swallowed, and apologized...for what I am not certain. I dismissed the apology and offered a cookie, that I certainly did not need. She laughed, thanked me, and nibbled at the confection with silence, staring off into the world outside. I worked on my homework. Nearly an hour later, almost completely out of my mind, the woman approached and thanked me for the cookie and the sun. Before I could respond, she was gone.

I am not asking for anyone to expose their pain. I am not saying that it is good to wallow in pain. I am merely suggesting that pain and sorrow are far more prevalent than we care to admit. We need to look around. I am just as guilty, I don’t know what to say to them. But since I have lost a friend a while ago, I have tried saying hi, just a bit more, to those people who keep to the shadows, to those people who hide behind the lackluster filter. I can’t see everyone. We can’t see everyone. But maybe if we see one person, maybe that will be enough for that one person to get through another day.

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