There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and noticed she had only three hairs on her head. 'Well,' she said, 'I think I'll braid my hair today.' So she did and she had a wonderful day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and saw that she had only two hairs on her head. 'H-M-M,' she said, 'I think I'll part my hair down the middle today.' So she did and she had a grand day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that she had only one hair on her head. 'Well,' she said, 'today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail.' So she did, and she had a fun, fun day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head. 'YAY!' she exclaimed. 'I don't have to fix my hair today!'
Yesterday I after I shared about my sociopath client, I received so many heartwarming comments, and I thank you all. I really hadn't wanted to lay that one on you, but it was something I 'had' to talk about in order to let it go. Today I wanted to introduce you to another client, the opposite side of the spectrum, a very different kind of person, a very special man. He is the epitome of the story above.
Yesterday, I'd been hoping all morning that my intake wouldn't show up. Intakes involve a lot of paperwork and because of an overload of trainings and meetings, I'm already behind. I'd been hoping to have the afternoon free to get my charts in order, and when, at 1 pm, the phone rang from the reception area I knew exactly what it meant. But, this client was exactly what I needed.
John Doe is in a wheelchair; he lost his right leg years ago when he tried to help a woman at the subway station who was being harassed by a mental patient. And, as the train pulled in, the man shoved him in front of the moving train. I asked him if they caught the perpetrator, and there was no bitterness as he explained that they had, but the man had never really been punished because of his mental issues. Instead, he stayed only a short while on the psychiatric ward before being released again. Meanwhile, John Doe had been fed so much morphine in the hospital that he walked out as an addict. He's got four years clean now, but he wants to attend the program to give him something to do, a place to belong.
This is a man whose mother put him in a shoe box and left him at a convent when he was born. He spent his youth being shuffled from one home to another, suffering sexual, physical, and emotional abuse in some of the places he lived. Yet, he said of his mom, "I don't blame her. Those were different times back then, and I know she had her reasons. I also know that she loved me because she left me at a place where she knew there would be people to care for me. I forgive her and wish I had a chance to tell her so."
Along with the above, he also has several serious possibly life-threatening illnesses, but there is no hate, no anger, no blame, no malice. He didn't feel sorry for himself or show envy of those who can walk. He could have lashed out at everyone, but he accepted his lot in life and looks at his trials and tribulations as proof that he was put here for a reason. He had the most wonderful attitude. What I saw in him was a love of life and a gratefulness for being alive, and those feelings were passed on to me.
I share this with you today because yesterday I spoke of the evil, and the fact is, both good and evil exist in this world. We rarely realize that, like all opposites, they are necessary for one another. It is through the darkness, that we see the light. Without hate, there would be no love. Without sadness, there would be no joy. Without friendship, there would be no enemies. Without evil, there would be no good. For that is the way of the world.
(You're probably wondering where all these little parables and tales are coming from and do hope you are not getting sick of them. They are they are the results of years of jotting down little quotes and items that hold meaning to me. It was hubby who started me doing this. He likes to jot down quotes and other little items and jots them on napkins, inside books, or on pieces of paper, anything handy, and of course, in time, they always get lost. So, for mine, I bought a book in which I write, print and cut to fit, or cut from a magazine pictures and readings that have meaning for me. I call it my 'Book of Hope'. One day, a few years ago, I'd taken my book to work to use with my groups to instill a new way of thinking, but when someone borrowed it, and it had been misplaced. Not too long ago, it was once again discovered, buried in a box that had been unopened for years. You can imagine how overjoyed I was when the office manager came to my desk and said, "Is this yours? I know that it has reappeared for a reason")