This is a comment left on the site: Your Bipolar Girl It felt important enough to post, and also reminds me of a rare kindness shared at another site this morning on a cold blizzard day— warming me: Sophie at My New Life
The power of belief is irrefutable. Unfortunately the beliefs I have of myself since childhood are that I am insignificant, unworthy, unloved, incapable, and not even a ‘real’ person. So I have a lifetime of work to do, as we all do in our own separate ways.
I have endured many bouts of depression. It makes me much more aware and sensitive to another’s pain. I believe those who have to manage the same or other difficult challenges, also cultivate a deeper and richer emotional depth of understanding towards the pain of others.
My 28 year old son assures me this is so after lamenting to him my failures as a mother because I leaned on him during his growing up years, drawn to his ‘wholeness’ and centered being. This is a portion of a letter he wrote me which I posted previously in its entirety.
“And here I am, and that’s why I am. That’s why I bring empathy to other people. That’s the gift you gave me – a knack for reading the hearts of troubled people.
It’s amazing, how people will pour their hearts out if they can find a single willing receptacle, one outlet; one listener. People are dying to get things off their chests, and I can read it in their expressions, in their habits. No one asks them what’s really going on inside. But I ask. When I offer people a non-judgmental ear, the floodgates open. Finally, says the pained expression on their faces. Finally someone will listen to me about all this shit I’m carrying around day after day after day.
So thank you, for this deep sense of empathy and connection that binds me to other people.
I love you. “
That’s from my son who listened to me though he shouldn’t have had to. And when you’re in pain—that matters, to have just one person who cares, listens and understands. It makes all the difference.
Photo is my grandson under 1 week old, his hand in mine. You can still see flecks of meconium from the birth process.