As someone who lives with mental health issues, and someone who is probably on the spectrum and doesn’t always deal well with other people, I sometimes forget to talk about the stuff in my head. Like, it literally doesn’t occur to me to say things out loud.
I’m getting better at it, since I’ve identified it as an issue. I mean, people can’t support you if they have no idea what murky place your mind is swimming in. But, you know, old habits and all that.
We’re on holiday, and as we enter the third phase of it, I’m feeling quite contemplative about communication. About listening, yes, but also responding; I’m thinking about what it means to be seen, to be listened to. To be someone who sees and listens and provides the compassion so often lacking in the distant and careworn society around us.
As I head into a week surrounded by people I’m cognisant that I want to be present, and that if there are others there like me, who feel out of place, unseen, who are floating jetsam among the flotsam of humanity around them, I hope they know I’m there, a lighthouse on land to keep them from crashing against the rocks of uncertainty. And I hope you’ll consider being one too–a light to help people see the way to safety when the land is dark and rough.