I must look like the most trust worthiest person on the planet.
I say this, unsure as to why, but because people tell me the craziest shit. Not drunk girl confessing at a bar crazy shit, but “Why are you telling me this shit?” shit.
Several things spurred me to post this, and I needed somewhere to dump it all, so viola here I am.
I will admit that I am a plethora of sympathy, to an extent. In my 42 years, I have been to hell and back, twice, without water nor a parachute, and I imagine that I radiate some sort of telepathic tell me anything, because I've seen it all and will understand sort of energy.
However...
Do not tell me while I am sitting with you in the hospital, in the wee hours of the morning, that you tested positive for more drugs than Charlie Sheen. Not while I’m sitting with you, hearing that your baby girl was stillborn. Not after I have spent the night losing my shit, drinking till I passed out, and after minimal sleeping have returned to the hospital to be with you, even though you told me the truth as to why she was stillborn, it will take me years and years and years to accept that you were young, stupid and made a deadly mistake. It takes many years to suppress the memory of dressing a tiny 2 pound baby girl in the only clothes she'll ever wear, without feeling so pissed off at you that I want to strangle you at every family function I see you at. I'm haunted by the nurse who came over to me and said "I've been a labor and delivery nurse for 35 years, and I've never done what you’re doing.", while I am crying hysterically, trying to dress her before the funeral home comes to get her.
When you divulge dark things to people, you burden them. There are burdens that people are more than willing to accept, and there are burdens that people just can't deal with. I signed up for the burden of witnessing a baby entering this world, while knowing she would never live in it. In a sick way, I guess I signed up for the knowledge of why she would not live in it as well. But, I never signed up to never forget.
I could never work in customer service. On one hand I am a perfect candidate for customer service, because I can be friendly, chatty, and I operate with a fully intact brain. On the other hand, I hate stupid people, and they are the folks you most commonly deal with. Years ago, I worked at a small restaurant; we were located by a mall and typically saw the same people who worked at the mall day after day. One day while I was working, a women about the same age as myself came in and told me she really needed to talk to me. I had spoken to her approximately twice before, but obviously she felt that we were tight, because she proceeded to lament to me that she had lost her job, couldn't deal with her ex, and was having a hard time coming to grips with her married boyfriend and an abortion that resulted from that relationship.
I should have gotten an Emmy for my following performance. I was able to refrain from screaming "Why the hell are you telling me this?" and instead offered her some advice. Find another job and keep that job by not bringing your personal life to work. Dump the married boyfriend, because...obviously. And finally, pull out the divorce papers and figure the shit out with the ex. This woman may have just needed a third party to listen to her tale, and maybe I was handier than her hairdresser. I'm sure that was a good reason why a lot of strangers told me things that perhaps, they shouldn't have.
I am an excellent secret keeper. I have things stored away that people have told me, and I have not ever breathed a word of it. I know things that could end marriages, jobs and probably lives should I disclose it to the wrong people. I know that when people tell you deeply personal things, it is because they have trusted you with something. While I feel honored by some things people have trusted me with, other things I wonder about. Of course, there are people who over share, which negates the whole thing anyway.
One thing that kills me is when people start a sentence out with "I probably shouldn't tell you this...but". No buts, NO. Don't do it. If you have to start something off like that, then more than likely you shouldn't tell me, or anyone else for that matter. If you have a problem, and you need help, I am more than happy to comply. If you just want to talk about your irrational or destructive behavior, the way some people might talk about car maintenance or shoe shopping, then please, don't talk to me about it. Even though I am a solution oriented person, I am willing and sympathetic about discussing your cancer treatment, because it sucks and you need to talk. Now, if you want me to sit back and lolly gag about your extramarital affair or your drug use, please count me out. I need to solve the problems that have solutions, not watch people self destruct.
Being sympathetic does not mean that I am without judgment, even decades later. When you choose me to witness something, to share your secret, I take part of your burden. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to judge you.
I say this, unsure as to why, but because people tell me the craziest shit. Not drunk girl confessing at a bar crazy shit, but “Why are you telling me this shit?” shit.
Several things spurred me to post this, and I needed somewhere to dump it all, so viola here I am.
I will admit that I am a plethora of sympathy, to an extent. In my 42 years, I have been to hell and back, twice, without water nor a parachute, and I imagine that I radiate some sort of telepathic tell me anything, because I've seen it all and will understand sort of energy.
However...
Do not tell me while I am sitting with you in the hospital, in the wee hours of the morning, that you tested positive for more drugs than Charlie Sheen. Not while I’m sitting with you, hearing that your baby girl was stillborn. Not after I have spent the night losing my shit, drinking till I passed out, and after minimal sleeping have returned to the hospital to be with you, even though you told me the truth as to why she was stillborn, it will take me years and years and years to accept that you were young, stupid and made a deadly mistake. It takes many years to suppress the memory of dressing a tiny 2 pound baby girl in the only clothes she'll ever wear, without feeling so pissed off at you that I want to strangle you at every family function I see you at. I'm haunted by the nurse who came over to me and said "I've been a labor and delivery nurse for 35 years, and I've never done what you’re doing.", while I am crying hysterically, trying to dress her before the funeral home comes to get her.
When you divulge dark things to people, you burden them. There are burdens that people are more than willing to accept, and there are burdens that people just can't deal with. I signed up for the burden of witnessing a baby entering this world, while knowing she would never live in it. In a sick way, I guess I signed up for the knowledge of why she would not live in it as well. But, I never signed up to never forget.
I could never work in customer service. On one hand I am a perfect candidate for customer service, because I can be friendly, chatty, and I operate with a fully intact brain. On the other hand, I hate stupid people, and they are the folks you most commonly deal with. Years ago, I worked at a small restaurant; we were located by a mall and typically saw the same people who worked at the mall day after day. One day while I was working, a women about the same age as myself came in and told me she really needed to talk to me. I had spoken to her approximately twice before, but obviously she felt that we were tight, because she proceeded to lament to me that she had lost her job, couldn't deal with her ex, and was having a hard time coming to grips with her married boyfriend and an abortion that resulted from that relationship.
I should have gotten an Emmy for my following performance. I was able to refrain from screaming "Why the hell are you telling me this?" and instead offered her some advice. Find another job and keep that job by not bringing your personal life to work. Dump the married boyfriend, because...obviously. And finally, pull out the divorce papers and figure the shit out with the ex. This woman may have just needed a third party to listen to her tale, and maybe I was handier than her hairdresser. I'm sure that was a good reason why a lot of strangers told me things that perhaps, they shouldn't have.
I am an excellent secret keeper. I have things stored away that people have told me, and I have not ever breathed a word of it. I know things that could end marriages, jobs and probably lives should I disclose it to the wrong people. I know that when people tell you deeply personal things, it is because they have trusted you with something. While I feel honored by some things people have trusted me with, other things I wonder about. Of course, there are people who over share, which negates the whole thing anyway.
One thing that kills me is when people start a sentence out with "I probably shouldn't tell you this...but". No buts, NO. Don't do it. If you have to start something off like that, then more than likely you shouldn't tell me, or anyone else for that matter. If you have a problem, and you need help, I am more than happy to comply. If you just want to talk about your irrational or destructive behavior, the way some people might talk about car maintenance or shoe shopping, then please, don't talk to me about it. Even though I am a solution oriented person, I am willing and sympathetic about discussing your cancer treatment, because it sucks and you need to talk. Now, if you want me to sit back and lolly gag about your extramarital affair or your drug use, please count me out. I need to solve the problems that have solutions, not watch people self destruct.
Being sympathetic does not mean that I am without judgment, even decades later. When you choose me to witness something, to share your secret, I take part of your burden. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to judge you.
And for fuck’s sake, if you just HAVE to tell me something, please be
aware that you are placing a burden on my shoulders. A burden I might well be
able to bear, but, am I willing?
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