It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, how hard you try, or how much you long to make things right...people will judge you.
If you are trying to take care of someone you love, some people will say you are smothering. Others – people who have never been called to such a task – will imply – even say out loud – that you’re not doing enough.
If you make ordinary comments about your day – because I have learned that nothing makes a sick person feel safer than having their world normalized – some people will say you shouldn’t complain.
If you therefore pull back in your commentary, others will say you’re unreal; that you are a person who tries to manage things.
If you, who seldom like to cook, prepare a meal for the family of a person who is unwell (and you’re lucky enough to have them eat it), some people will accuse you of artifice, of condescension. If you don’t cook (largely because so many people are bringing trays of prepared food to the house and you don’t want their generosity, or their expense, to go to waste), other people will call you lazy and selfish.
If you are friendly, some will call you uncaring. If you are quiet, some will name you as thoughtless and self-centered.
If you need a break, some people will see you as heartless, but if you don’t take time away, martyr is what they will say.
If you are a worthy caretaker, some people will be jealous and malign you, half-wishing (but only by half) that they could be caretakers themselves. Other people will call you obsequious; interfering; inappropriate.
If you are joyful, you are unrealistic; if you are sad – maudlin and egocentric. If you are tired or worried or feel unwell and you say so, you are a monster, but if you don’t say so, you’re a fake.
The best part in all of this is – the exquisite part, really – is that for every person who judges you, there are twenty who won’t.
For every emotionally lazy person who casts aspersions, there are a dozen who know how it feels; what it means; what the intentions are; how hard it is; how joyful it is; how terrible and how wonderful; how much you love and mean well.
For every mean thought, there are a dozen kind letters, comical email, gifts of cds and books, phone calls and warm invitations.
For every cynic there are a hundred compassionate hearts.
It is true that people will judge you.
Let them.
Otherwise you will not know the meaning of – what it means to have – extraordinary friends.
