22nd February 2016
Behind every corner hides a shadow
In every cupboard lives the dark
Every light is just exterior
It’s what’s underneath that leaves the mark
I look at everyone’s Instagram photo’s
Facebook, snapchat – all so swanky and slick
but I know that behind the polished perfection
lies people’s real stories, so many so dark and horrific
I’m hit with a sudden realisation
that wherever I turn it’s not true
We have become so skilled and practiced
‘Yeh I’m good thanks, how are you?’
But is it even a question?
Do we really want to know?
Or have we become so distant from each other
What was once so bright now an overpowering shadow
“A soya cinnamon latte please” I say to the lady at the counter. After hours of driving I’ve finally managed to find some dimly lit small shabby services on the side of the road. It’s dark and I’m tired and it’s taken me a good hour to find something that’s actually open at this hour. Scotland is such a trek! “We don’t do soya or cinnamon”, she replies blankly barely even acknowledging me. Great! Crappy services and now also a woman who’s made me even more moody than I already was. “Just a latte then” I reply brusquely.
I’m 17 years old and on my way to another training camp. At least twice a month I make the long trip up from the South to the Glasgow National Hockey Centre to keep my place in the Under 21s International Hockey Squad.
You know – I’d forgotten all about that woman until this week. And what I find incredible is how such a small and insignificant incident has become the inspiration behind my latest blog.
For whatever reason, and it wasn’t because my experience there had been anything more than substandard, I ended up back there again the next month. And the next. And the next. I never intended to stop there. One month I ran out of petrol, the next I needed the toilet so bad I thought my stomach was going to explode. My car was making a rattling noise, I got lost… The reasons just kept coming. I vaguely remember thinking at the time ‘why do I always end up here?’ A couple of times I was even embarrassed about walking back in there AGAIN! But I honestly never stopped to think about it long enough for it to ever make any sense to me. The same woman was always there. Did she own the place? Did she do anything else besides work there? No idea! But as my visits increased, our conversations expanded. Then one week, by this point my visits were no longer unintentional and it had become my stop of point each time, I walked in and she smiled at me! “A soya cinnamon latte?” She’d remembered! I’d never asked for another once since that very first time all those months ago. And not just remembered. She’d gone and bought soya milk (which at that time wasn’t quite as popular as it is now!) and cinnamon syrup. I gave her the biggest smile and asked her how she was. I don’t think I’d ever have been able to anticipate her reaction. She nodded, and then just started crying. I was a bit more awkward with people and emotions back then! And I wasn’t quite sure what to do or how to react. But actually, I didn’t need to be an expert. She told me how her little girl had recently died of leukaemia and how her husband had become violent and a drunk. She spent her nights here because she felt safer. It was one of those moments I look back on now and just wish so much I’d done more. But actually there probably wasn’t much I could have done. I listened to her and told her how sorry I was. I wasn’t a Christian at this point. I didn’t really understand church to the extent I do now and I definitely had no idea how to help someone like her. But despite being completely useless in that moment, I remember she looked lighter when I left. I thanked her so much for my latte and she seemed genuinely grateful and happier than I’d ever seen her before.
What’s the point of that story? Yeh it could be that sometimes all it takes is for someone to really notice someone. But actually my point goes deeper and beyond. I walked away in a mood the first time I met this lady because she was blank, downcast and unapproachable. I can’t remember my exact thoughts at the time but I know they weren’t nice and they weren’t pretty. If i’d been with others I would have walked off and bitched about her. Made myself feel better by putting her down. Would I have ever done that or had the same reaction as I did if I’d known she’d just lost her daughter to leukaemia? Thought the same thoughts if I’d known her husband was hitting her and she was stood on her own in these tiny services in the middle of nowhere because she felt safer there than at home? Not in a million years.
I started blogging just under 3 months ago and the response has been slightly more than overwhelming. Thousands and thousands of people have read my blogs and I’ve received hundreds of messages. So many of those messages have been ones of appreciation and encouragement but even more have been ones sharing their pain and struggles. Many stories from people I’ve never met but so many too from people I have known for many years or currently know from so many different environments. And over these past few weeks it’s hit me hard. It’s hit me hard how little we actually often know about people and the reality of their lives that goes on behind closed doors.
That man you’re beeping so hard at or driving so close behind because of his infuriating slow speed – he’s not intentional trying to wind you up but lost his wife and two kids in a car crash and has only just mustered up enough courage to get behind the wheel again.
That girlfriend who keeps letting the group down in social situations isn’t trying to be a letdown or get the nickname ‘sick-note’ but has suffered from severe bullying in her younger years and now struggles hugely with anxiety especially in social group situations. Inside she wishes every day how she could just be ‘normal’ and just go and have the fun she craves so much with her friends.
That boy who smells so bad in class you hate him for it – his mum is an alcoholic, doesn’t cook or buy him new clothes and his dad left when he was just two years old. He fends for himself on a daily basis and most of the time he wishes he was dead.
That woman who sits at the Tesco till scanning through your shopping, who remains angry and unappreciative despite your greatest attempts at making polite and cheery conversation, is getting raped and abused by the man who is supposed to love and protect her and can no longer put on her daily mask pretending life is fine and good.
The work colleague who no one can stand because she’s bossy and arrogant, acting like she’s higher than everyone else, was told every day growing up how she wasn’t good enough by her dad and now just attempts in any way possible that she is good enough.
I stop and look around and am suddenly profoundly embarrassed at my judgement and critique every single day towards people I don’t know and those who I think I do know. I’m so quick to judge, so quick to criticise, so quick to talk badly about those who haven’t quite matched my demeanour or behavioural quota for that day. Every day we encounter countless people, every person on their own journey, facing their own issues and daily struggles. Who are we to judge?
I quit hockey when I was in my prime. People thought I was an idiot. Thought I had given up on something just like that. Didn’t understand how I could just walk away from something I’d been gifted in and was incredibly talented at. There were rumours that went round. Of course my closest friends never faltered from supporting me no matter what, but anyone one step removed from a best friend thought the training regime had become too much, thought I couldn’t hack the discipline, came up with their own reasons and judgements. I was playing for Birmingham at the time and even my coach gave me a lot of stick. In reality my eating disorder had gotten so bad I was fainting every time I had to bend down, my trauma from years before had resurfaced to such an extent even the most normal daily activities had become an unbearable chore. Socialising became one of the most challenging undertakings. I know I was judged and sometimes all this time on I still am for stuff I did back then and decisions I made. But everything I did came from a place that was deeper than most people would ever see or understand.
And this week I’ve been learning that same hard lesson. People’s lives ALWAYS go deeper than the surface act we get to see and experience. Who are we to judge? Who are we to criticise? Next time that person you come across doesn’t display that desired attitude we expect from everyone apart from ourselves, let’s stop and think before we act or say, judge or critique.
Because behind every corner hides a shadow
In every cupboard lies the dark
Every light is just exterior
It’s what’s underneath that leaves the mark
Everyone’s Instagram photo’s, Facebook and snapchat
They all want to portray something swanky and slick
but we know that behind the polished perfection
lies people’s real stories, often dark, awful and horrific
Lets finally let that realisation sink in
that the surface face isn’t always true
Lets stop being so shallow and so good
at just saying ‘I’m good thanks how are you’
Lets get deeper with people
and try and really understand
Lets not just brush them off
Say hey and let them expand
And if the hey is all that’s appropriate
that’s fine; more isn’t always right
But let’s make sure we accept their shadows
And show them that there’s always a light
chibraley.com 