The world is kinder than we think.
PeanutButter and I had gone out for a celebratory evening. It was a glorious, crisp night with partial cloud-cover and plenty of lighted decorations. We supped at one of our special-occasion establishments, and the table at which we sat had drawers on either side.
After the meal, I jimmied mine open.
It was stuffed with notes.
Ripped receipts. Paper scraps. Scribbled with inks of all color. Some dated back four or five years, and every single one was of hope and inspiration. Each contained a sentiment of sympathy, empathy, and compassion. All spreading kindness or humor in as few words possible.
When we are young, our worlds are very small. Restricted at first to the household, the family unit, the yard or street. Our worlds grow as we do, bringing new people and new ideas; by the time we reach adulthood, it should be opened up to us, and we should be prepared for it.
My small world set me up to fear everything. Told me the outside was dangerous and cruel — and showed me home was not to be trusted either. Taught me hideous things happen behind every shadow, shade, and closed door. Made monsters out of velvet paintings, wrapped chains around my spirit. My small world wanted to keep me captive.
I read through that entire drawer.
Poems. Love notes. Celebrations of birthdays, graduations, retirements, and anniversaries. Moments, memories, memorials. Expressions of loss in the most humble and noble of ways. Declarations of existence: “I was here!” Individual stars in the vast galaxy of humanity; glimpses into souls we would never otherwise know.
We caught the attention of nearby patrons. The table next to us wiggled open their drawers and pawed through even more notes. The party of four on our other side bemoaned how their table had no drawers, and eight strangers shared a giggle over one that stated simply, “Send help!”
Terrible things, known and unknown, happen in all our worlds, big and small. It’s still an unsafe place for many; it’s a world riddled with discontent and pain, filled with fearful people imprisoned in and reacting to their own small worlds.
But it’s also filled with people who are just trying to do, and be, their best.
Upon leaving the restaurant, our fellow diners went out of their way to wish us well. Our server had been delighted and delightful, and the entire experience captured magic in its mundanity.
Our small worlds want to keep us bound and afraid, but these notes proved to me how wrong those worlds are. These notes showed me, underneath it all, kindness prevails.
Those drawers of notes showed me, when offered a scrap of paper, a pen, and an opportunity, every word written was of courage, love, and hope. Every note was about being alive, being human, and every single one was grasping for connection.
*** Originally published December 20, 2023 on our personal blog (link in profile) ***
#Trauma #ComplexPosttraumaticStressDisorder #beyondrecovery #DissociativeIdentityDisorder
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