"Reach Out In the Darkness!"

I have learned many lessons about people this year.
The most disappointing lesson is that not everyone is drawn to be supportive of struggling, marginalized misfits the way that I am.
The best thing that I've learned is that, in caring for people worse off than myself, there is the discovery that A.) No one is necessarily "worse off" than me, and B.) When I really need a friend myself, they are there for me in a heartbeat. All the best things that have happened to me in my lifetime have been because in my suffering and reaching out for support, I have also caught the reaching hands of others.
And my life is all the better for it.
I feel a mixture of pity and disdain for people who shelter themselves from anything or anyone that might really make them feel something strongly -- People who won't reach out to the loner out in the streets, the sobbing woman standing in the grocery line, the man in the suicide ward who was still trying to steal kitchen knives in order to off himself.
These people are "THOSE People," the ones you should never associate with, the ones who will drag you down, burden you, take more than they will ever give back, have bad attitudes, struggle with depression or mental illness.
It is just as easy for these people I disdain to speak about all kinds of altruistic pursuits -- Just so long as they don't have to get their hands dirty doing it. These are the people who recycle trash, but refuse to give broken people a second chance with them. These are the people who passionately argue for social justice from the safety of their nice homes, but who would never volunteer at a shelter -- or anywhere else for that matter. They talk about poverty in Haiti, but don't donate to any charities. They say that it's a shame that mental illness isn't considered equal to physical illness, but you will never see them befriending anyone they met in the waiting room who seemed a little unstable. And

they would never ever actually strike up a conversation with any of "THOSE people."
I make friends easily, and I make a lot of them. 75% of my friends are such purely because at some point in their lives they needed someone to be there for them, and I made a point of being that person. The people toward I feel so much pity are not the people I met in homeless shelters, not the people I met in psychiatrist's offices, on the suicide ward, and neither is it the people I love who seem incapable of fitting in, or of holding back their most naked thoughts. No, for these marginalized people are stronger than the ones I pity so much -- and far more interesting to talk to.
The people whom I pity so much, are the people who can't seem to see that.
How very lonely it must feel to be perfect, to always get things right, to sit in the waiting room and stare down at your phone for fear of having to meet anyone's eyes and be forced to talk to them.
How very limiting it must be to only associate with "whole" people, with "normal" people --- With only the people you can benefit from as opposed to people who could benefit from you.
How commendable of them to not associate with lower life-forms.
They will live and die bereft of true friends in their lifetime, having left the world no better than they found it.
And absolutely certain that they were clever enough not to become entangled with anyone who might need them.
How empty must their lives be, how depressing!
But how very neat and tidy.
I don't go into any friendship thinking to myself, "What can I get out of this person?"
I don't ask myself, "Gee, I wonder if they've got their shit together, or if they're going to create unnecessary drama in my life?"
I think, "That person needs a friend; What can I do for them?"
I think, "This is a complex person -- What can I learn from them?"
You learn a lot.
You learn, for example, how much you really have to offer to the world, and how important it is for you to do that.
You learn to value every person you meet, to learn from every experience you have.
You learn that the woman with the incurable, degenerative disease who lives on welfare and was once an alcoholic is also a beautiful artist, and a kind soul at heart.
You learn that the girl nobody else liked during your grade school years is the kindest, most generous person there is -- quite possibly because she knows what it is to be mistreated, and she knows how it feels to have nothing -- And she just might have learned from you what it feels like to just give anyway. Or maybe you learn that from her.
You learn that even drug addicts can love their children and hope for the best for them.
You learn that people who never went to college can still be geniuses, gifted people with a purpose in life.
You learn that people are more important than things.
You learn that acts of kindness have no statutes of limitations, that a kindness done for another can

round back up on you, years after the fact, and become something kind that that person will now do for you.
You learn that helping others takes away that nagging emptiness you hold inside.
You learn that your life isn't about feeling safe or being stable; It's meant to mean something, to care about something, to give something without expecting anything back -- but getting everything that you need anyway -- perhaps by realizing that you have everything you need.
I never turn down a friend, and I try to make myself the friend of anyone I see who seems to be struggling in any way, and I try to use my own struggles to empathize and encourage them.
I pay it forward.
And for that I am never sorry.
The ultimate pity I feel toward these Avoiders is that they look at their life and relationships as some sort of zero-sum game, as if they will run out of time, energy, resources -- love -- if they give to much.
Why can't they see that the more you give, the more you have to give -- that the more people whom you love, the more love that you have and you get?