2009 was a very complicated year in my life. A lot of people know that.
But almost nobody knows the story of everything I went through that year.
Context
I think it’s important to list some of the things that helped 2009 become such a horrible year.
Of all that happened in 2008, most of its weight comes from the month of September. There were several deaths in the family (three of my uncles died that month). My (then) girlfriend went overseas for her PhD, from whence she would return only several years later; that separation was the beginning of a deeply painful process that lasted all of 15 months.
And on that month, my dad died.
I also defended my Masters on that month; and I moved on, getting into the PhD program. But, at first, I had no stipend. I survived thanks to having a gracious advisor and from private classes I got thanks to a friend’s recommendation. Even still, after my defense I left the apartment where I lived, and went to spend some months with my mom. To rest, lick my wounds, and try to restore myself.
That’s not the story I want to tell; but it’s good to offer some context for what’s next.
Surviving, but not living
Personally, September 2008 was the beginning of an “astral hell” that would end only in early 2010. I have always been a difficult person, but that situation pushed me over the edge. I became aggressive, rude, ill-tempered. Really hard to live with.
The way each one deals with such a loss is very personal, and it depends a lot on personality. It’s a little impredictable and, ironically, it can be the start of a journey of self-knowledge.
But I can say first-hand that it is really not easy, dealing with the loss of a dad, distance from a loved one, financial difficulty from not having a proper stipend, and not even having a place to live, keeping a nomadic life, many times sleeping on some chairs I put together in my office.
And I admit that, for the people around me, that was probably a very complicated situation. Friends and colleagues reacted each one in their own way.
Some of them just accepted the fact, hoping I would eventually get better.
Others tried to talk to me, offering comfort and trying to understand what I was going through.
There were people, however, that didn’t react well.
Abandonment and disappointment
A particular group of people was the one that hurt me the most. Those people, a group that I considered very close friends, and with whom I thought I could count for anything, failed to show any sign of empathy or patience. I was simply pushed away; meetings and events were planned without me knowing. I wasn’t included in conversations, which died as soon as I approached.
It was a very difficult situation, for everyone. But for someone who had (has?) difficulty in perceiving or dealing with emotions, it was a complete catastrophe. One day I finally realized that something was wrong and commented on twitter. And I got the reply (later deleted): “no, you were just not invited”.
That ended me. I was angry, sad, insurgent even. But, above all, I was hurt. I was going through the hardest time of my life, and hoped that if there was something wrong I could count on those people to approach and, at the very least, try to understand. To talk to me.
That didn’t happen. If there were attempts at that, I didn’t notice them. Only when it was already too late some one asked me “is everything okay? You seem kind of aggressive lately” (yeah, no shit).
But, as I said, it was already too late, and the damage was done. Dark thoughts made the rounds in my mind back then.
Eventually, the “slap” was enough to make me realize what was going on – and I managed to “rekindle” my relations with those guys. I apologized, and tried to adjust my behavior.
I don’t remember ever receiving a single apology, though.
Nevertheless, I moved on.
Always forgive, never forget
After that life kept going. I started therapy (which lasted for several years). Got my PhD scholarship, got a spot at the student housing at the university (and eventually left), rebuilt my life.
My “theme song” was Coming Back to Life, by Pink Floyd. In fact, that was exactly what I was going through. A part of me died in the 2008-2009 biennium; I was slowly rebuilding myself, coming back to life.
I lived overseas. Twice. Got my PhD. Worked as a professor. Found love again, got married. Ten years went by.
But I never forgot.
Learnings
I learned a lot from what I’ve been through over the past 14 years. One of the main things that I learned was that Empathy is like a muscle: it needs exercise.
It’s not an intrinsic characteristic, with which you’re born with. It’s a conscious, continuous effort of always trying to put oneself in other people’s shoes, of trying to understand what leads someone to do what they do.
In time: it’s very good to make it clear that certain people do NOT deserve it. But fortunately those people are exceptions and not the rule. Like the old asshole that used to live in Virginia (Brazilian reference, sorry).
Anyway, Empathy is especially important when it’s someone close. It’s the least we should do when we interact with someone close: exercise that “muscle” and try to comprehend what is really being said.
Message is more important than form, and even if the way someone communicates may be harsh, if we care about them it’s essential to try and see beyond words, read between the lines.
What is said may even be controversial, wrong or even interpreted as immoral. And, usually, that is the correct interpretation. If it’s a thread on twitter, a random comment on facebook, or any other interaction with just some random person on the Internet, usually the first impression is the right one, and absence of direct relation to that person excuses a direct answer.
But when it’s someone close, it’s at the very least a demonstration of that proximity to try to understand what is really being said.
Trigger and reaction
I didn’t plan on writing so openly about all of that on this blog, ever. For the past couple of years I’ve been ruminating on that, trying to put it into a more… euphemistic shape, for lack of better vernacular.
But yesterday I witnessed the very same thing, with almost the very same group of people.
And that triggered me hard. Suddenly I realized that that never changed. It is a reasonable heterogeneous group, which includes someone going through a transition that is NOT easy at all and that recently I’ve seen being compared on twitter to “diving into the abyss with hopes of finding yourself” (free translation) – something I find wonderful and inspiring.
But what caught my attention was something I only realized today. Back in 2009 I was called a “killjoy”. I think it makes sense; only positive things are accepted. Personal problems or serious conversations should be checked at the door.
It has ALWAYS been a group of colleagues. NEVER a group of friends. That, sadly, has not changed in 13 years.
Conclusion? No.
To witness someone going through a very difficult and traumatizing situation being chased away left me really shaken.
And that’s very, VERY sad.
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