As much as I hate people, I also love people. It’s because of many beautiful and amazing people that I have made it this far in life. People who help others out of the kindness of their heart, not just because it’s a job. Genuine people. Real people. I don’t write about this because I like to keep it close in my heart, but when I read ‘To The Strangers Who Kept Me Going‘ by Sigrid, I was inspired to share. The world could always do with reminders that good people exist.
There are two people I have omitted because of mixed feelings. They have done far more than just one or two things and have had a significant impact on my life. I am deeply attached. By no fault of theirs I am in pain, the presence they had in my life now hurts me. It’s incredibly distressing grieving this loss. I will never get over it, the pain will never ease, my heart will forever be wounded. I appreciate these two people, I do. Yet I hate them. I hate them because of how much I love them. And I hate myself for hating them because they don’t deserve it. I am sorry.
Here’s my attempt at restoring faith in humanity. My memory is terrible so I’m surprised at how much I recalled (it’s chronological!). To all the good humans who have made me smile, helped me, cared for me, and above all else for noticing me. Thank you so much! I love you and I appreciate you. You are fabulous!
The primary school teacher who looked beyond my academic abilities to recognise I still had support needs. I’d visit him every Friday even after moving to secondary school, sadly he left within a few months.
The Spanish teacher who let me off on two weeks of homework because she sensed I wasn’t okay (I didn’t even have to say anything).
The sixth form tutor who sat on the floor by my side whilst I cried for over 30 mins. Sometimes a comforting presence is better than words.
The mentor who sat with me for several hours in A&E (going into the night) when I had attempted suicide.
The strangers who guided me with parallel parking when I was a new driver (I’m good with it now, I think).
The mentor who remained kind and caring even after I had been rude and dismissive. Her compassion was something else. I had become so depressed I cut her off and deleted her number, but I never forgot her. I thought about her a lot when I graduated because I knew she would be so happy for me so I tried to find her contact details. I sent her an email, I was so nervous because it had been almost two years. I received the most kind-hearted response (she had saved my number!). We are in touch but she moved abroad.
The colleague who helped me clean up when I dropped my lunch (I blame the table!).
The colleague who complimented my shoes (I didn’t think much of them to be honest).
The awesome guy at the garage who reduced my stress of car maintenance with his helpful approach and free advice. His service is brilliant, I’d not take my car anywhere else.
The colleague who began her day by wishing me good morning. She even told me it felt different on the days I wasn’t in.
The colleague/mentor who supported me at work in every way possible. She spoke on my behalf when I struggled to speak up making sure my voice was heard.
The safeguarding person who is truly amazing and was a real help during my apprenticeship. A great listener. She was always happy to have a chat and we had some great conversations. When I informed her of leaving the apprenticeship, before I could ask she herself offered to keep in touch and that means so much (which reminds me I could drop her an email).
The pharmacist worker who would notice me in the queue and have my medication ready before I even said a word. Sadly he no longer works there.
The Costa barista who memorised my name and order so my coffee wait was never long.
The guy from the nearby car wash who helped me unscrew my tyre caps because my hands were frozen (winter life with Raynaud’s is pain).
The psychologist on the psych ward who was always there for me, even staying hours past her shift on one occasion when I was in a very bad state.
The life skills coach on the psych ward who is super kind and awesome. I miss our coffee chats! He said I almost made him cry on my last day. If it wasn’t for professional boundaries we would definitely be friends.
The nurse on the psych ward who somehow always understood me. Talking to her was so helpful, she would always challenge my thoughts but in a gentle way.
The OT on the psych ward who never gave up on me and continued trying to get me out of my shell (it worked!). We had some really good conversations.
The colleagues who offered to take me on walks and/or join them when I didn’t feel safe alone.
The social worker who was so compassionate and empathetic about my BPD (borderline personality disorder) diagnosis. She refused to let me blame myself and constantly reminded me that I wasn’t at fault. If only mental health professionals could show even 1% of such understanding (it’s a fantasy at this point).
The colleague who described me as a little gem (she was always so kind!).
The care coordinator who was mature enough to take feedback/criticism and willing to have sensible discussions and apologise when needed. This helped build trust and strengthened our relationship. Alas, just when I began to feel comfortable she left. I’ll never forget her warm hug. She really wanted to keep in touch but professional boundaries left her helpless. She actually said this to me and I knew she meant it.
The person from HR who did my paperwork checking up on me once a month even though she doesn’t need to.