Things we don’t often hear among friends:
“Sure, your guacamole is pretty good, but you know who makes really good guacamole? Patty! Let me tell you all about her guac…” (Patty actually does make really good guac, so I have used a real name in this instance.)
“You think your kid’s accomplishment is noteworthy? Let me tell you about my child’s accomplishment! It makes your child’s success look puny, and hopefully now you regret mentioning it!”
No one ever thinks, “I should help my friend see her happy moment in relation to other people’s lives. That would make this even better!"
"See how helpful I am with the perspective! Thank heavens I showed up to slap a scale on that joy so you don’t misunderstand its import in your life. You are welcome!”
And yet…
With problems, with missteps, with defeats that fell upon us, or worse, that we visited upon ourselves; with illness, injury, and pain, we go in like hired interior designers without a budget. No, no, no! You can’t see what true here. Your life isn’t yours to live and feel because it’s unique to you. Your pain can only be assessed against the full backdrop of human suffering, and unless you’re a child sex slave or an amputee without insurance, your experience is not as bad as you think it is. You're doing it wrong.
Constipated for a week from pain killers- at least it’s not colon cancer! Your child left school to follow Phish for a year? Piker! Our secretary’s kid flunked out of high school and cooks meth to support his new baby.
(Perhaps I’ve dated myself with the ‘following Phish’ reference. Eh. I’ve been on worse dates.)
I am in my mid-fifties. Soon I will have weddings to dance at and babies to squeeze. And I will have more illness, and a lot more death. I want all those moments as they come to me. They are mine in their fullness, and I don’t want to dull them any more than I would water down wine or scrape the seeds from a pepper. I don't want to live someone else' life for them. Why would I want to use theirs for scale in mine?