There was a random act of kindness that made a lot click into place. I was in an airport lounge, as I usually am, and was crying, as I usually am. I’m an emotional creature, and airports have seen the worst of me; this time, however, I was sat in the corner of a very empty turkish lounge, sobbing silently with earphones in - and a man gently placed a bottle of water on my table, gave me a look, and asked if I was alright.
See, I’ve cried at a lot of airports. This had never happened to me before. I thanked him, checked the seal of the bottle when he left, and sat with it for a little while. I teared up again, this time because I felt like the universe offered me a gentle pat on the back.
There’s things we can do that make this experience of living easier on all of us. There’s a strong online sentiment about hyper-individualism and the rise of ‘therapy-speak’; “I’m sorry your pet died, I’m not currently in the right headspace to speak with you about it right now,” and “you telling me how you feel about [this issue] is crossing a boundary of mine”.
As we as a society try to look inwards, we’re becoming more and more obsessed with our ideas of self. This era of heavily curated senses of identity have of course always existed, but the spin we’re seeing on it now is this mostly western, anti-community format of living. No, your friends won’t help you move furniture, and I’m sorry you’re going through a hard time, but I’m not your therapist. There’s services you can pay for that can do those things for you!
Replacing opportunities to bond with opportunities to swipe a credit card has left us with two big holes in our boats. We want to be the best versions of ourselves, all by ourselves - and we want to feel less lonely. We want ease, consideration, and respect; we do NOT want to show dependency, we do NOT want to extend that helping hand, and we do NOT want to be caught uncurated.
We’ve been fed that we are our own responsibility for years now; it’s our ‘job’ to stay healthy, happy, safe, it’s our ‘job’ to be our best selves, and it’s our ‘job’ to ‘create our own realities’. This blatant black hole of capitalism and hyper individualisation keeps us selfish and on our toes. We’re each expected to do everything ourselves, so that we can feel ‘self-made’ and ‘proud’ that we did it without any help. You might spot this in the still maturing artists you know - those who won’t reach out to others due to the the thinking that accepting help means diluting the presence of self one seeps into their work.
What people don’t tell you, or won’t tell you, is that it takes a village. Not just to raise a child, but to raise a spirit. We cannot do it alone, and there is no reason why we should; it’s easy to get caught in the idea that something has to be created from nothing without help from anyone in order for it to be a feat, but the reality of that thinking is this:
Exhaustion. Burn out. Loneliness. Anger. Jealousy. Insecurity. Closed perspective. Monotonous work. Shaky ideas of personality. Poor communication. Sickness. Artist block.
I was asked on instagram how I deal with being at uni, working a full time job, and maintaining a social life + a house. Easy answer: I do not do it alone. I have a community of people I’m very close to that dedicate their time to one another to make things easier for us. It does not come easy. Spoiler: it only comes through the unbecoming.
To be loved, you must be seen. Seen as human, not as a curated masterclass.
This brings us to the idea of ‘perfection’. I’ve seen the best of friends go their separate ways because of a fight that could’ve been talked through. Here’s the reality: people are going to hurt you. Your friends and family are going to say the wrong thing sometimes. They’re gonna get upset and react to the stimuli of life and say something or do something because they are human. This is the unbecoming. This is the point. We owe it to each other to be messy, sad, in pain, we owe it to each other to let our communities see us for real, human people.
We are not sane creatures. We are prone to mistakes, often repeating them in loops as different life lessons, and we are deeply ashamed of this.
The first time one of my film projects went a little sour, I sat on my friend Ryan’s bed and sobbed for 20 minutes before getting up to clean up his flat (our set). He was horrified: I’d never cried in front of him, and he was not at all expecting me to get up and try to clean his kitchen. I assured him that I cry a lot, but usually in airport lounges, and that it was alright, I was just a bit embarrassed. I could see in his face that he saw me differently. I appreciated it. We cleaned together. He said it was ‘unnecessary’ of me to tidy up, but we did it together regardless.
At a crosswalk the other day, a kid tried to cross while the light was red, and he couldn’t see the oncoming bikes zipping down the bus lane. Being on the other side, I waved him over to stop walking, and he did - he dodged a motorcycle and took several steps back to the safe brick and concrete platform he was waiting at before. When the light turned green and we walked past each other, he looked at me as if we’d known each other forever, and said thank you under his breath. This was ‘unnecessary’ of me again. I didn’t know him, he wasn't a friend, he wasn’t a friend’s kid or anyone I knew - there was nothing ‘in it for me’. I could see something he could not. I’d want someone to do that for me.
Once, a different friend and I fell out over something minute and stupid, and consequently never spoke again. Unnecessary. Read: we failed to see over our unbecomings.
Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be, or maybe it was the last straw over stretches of time - regardless, there was a pedestal we were putting each other on. One where the other is perfect, ‘better than this,’ and ‘should have’ done this or that. We expect, assume, and demand that our partners in this dance of life are well-versed with all the right moves, right etiquette, and all the right words. They must be mature, say the right thing all of the time, and they must apologise correctly, ‘taking accountability’ and promising that their empathy towards us will never cease.
We expect God in our friends and lovers, family and foes. Something “perfect and infallible”; and this is the same expectation we sneak onto ourselves.
So, when we see people as people and not principles of something ‘better’, we have more cohesive, well-formed, well-rounded relationships. Forgiving someone and recognising mistakes costs vulnerability. So does apologising. So does reaching out first. So does loving and being loved. Seeing humans for their humanity and not their ambition to be anything but; this will make the divide.
There is a % of people that do not believe they have to lift a finger to make things less hard on other people; this is the same demographic that says “but I never asked you to do that,” and this is usually where a lot of us get hurt. The reality of being vulnerable, sharing, and then getting told it was on your own terms - this makes it feel like a high risk, no reward set of emotional obstacles. We must brave through this, because they are right. A lot of people don’t ask for the help they need. Vulnerability is… expensive, let’s say. The things you might do for other people might go ignored or unappreciated, and that should not break your spirit - if you were giving to get, then there was something else you needed to look at.
Life is not an exchange. This experience cannot be made into transactions. There is rarely a real ‘reward’, just happiness and the things that make your soul sing.
There are things we owe each other. Yes, kindness and respect and care, of course - but also understanding. Apologies. Forgiveness. The benefit of the doubt. Chances, change, spare shirts and spare blankets. There’s things we can all do to make this easier on all of us. Clear communication. Working on our passive aggression. Acknowledging our humanity, living it, loving it. Being open about our mistakes and accepting the faults we possess, accepting the limitations of other people, all of this is kindness we should extend to ourselves and the people around us.
We gain nothing if there is no ‘we’. And if only you gain something, what’s the point of ‘you’?
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