I felt dread the instant I saw the comment from Hana. On the surface, it looked like an unhinged attack, but there’s an unmistakable hollow pang that reaches your gut when a dramatic rant contains a quiet truth.
I came upon it while scrolling through the remarks of a note I published that got a lot of attention. The note was about the courageous spirit of my mom.
The comments were all positive, but this one buried farther down coming from Hana was different—critical—and at least partially accurate.
If you’re an overly sensitive person like me, you already know that traditional physics does not apply to your emotional life and that you are subject to a unique set of social laws. For us, the formula to calculate the true weight of our character according to the impressions and perceptions of others looks like this.
Just one wrong look from a passing stranger can tip the scales.
The note was about something brave that my mom did to improve her circumstance in the senior’s community that she and my dad have just moved to. I had cheered mom on, as did over a hundred other people in the comments.
And in the middle of this stream of remarks came Hana to say something like . . .
You #@**!!ing self-centered jerk, I’m sure you feel very proud of yourself while posting this, but your parents should be living with you so that this never happens in the first place, but oh no, then you wouldn’t get to break your arm while publicly patting yourself on the back all over social media.
I’m pretty sure there was actual blood oozing from the bottom of my screen.
Of course, the numerous positive comments instantly vanished from my attention, and all I could think about was Hana’s rant.
I’m aware enough of my reactive tendencies to refrain from making sudden moves when I feel ashamed, threatened, or attacked. So, I stopped for a second, took a breath, and thought about what Hana was saying, which basically boiled down to . . .
Okay, that’s all very nice, but I’ll bet you could be doing more for your parents.
After a few minutes I concluded that this essential point was, in fact, fair and true.
So, I replied to her comment with the words, “Thank you for your perspective,” even though it took some work to extract that value from what seemed to be an extra helping of judgment and assumptions that were loaded onto her communication.
Later I thought, I’ll bet Hana has her own story about aging, her own parents, perhaps some family dynamics around caring for elders, a brother who’s distanced himself from the family . . . who knows?
The ironic part of this whole event was that my mother had decided to start advocating for those who weren’t speaking up by asking them to tell their story. That was the subject of the note. And everyone was commenting about how important it is that we share our stories.
When I went back to look more closely at Hana’s remark for better understanding, I saw a curious thing.
Hana had deleted everything she wrote, except a single period.
One single dot was all she left as a placeholder for her comment. Which made even more curious about her thought process and where she’s coming from.
If I thought there was a chance she might see this, I’d like to say:
Hana, whatever’s up for you in life or whatever you’ve been through that’s hard or painful, I’m sorry. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but I’ll bet a conversation would reveal that both of our hearts are in the right place. I appreciate you reminding me that my time with my parents is precious and there’s more I can be doing in support of them.
American singer and songwriter Michael Franti said something recently that I find profoundly useful. It’s a statement that comes to mind often, and I believe it’s true.
“There’s no one you wouldn’t love if you knew their story.” — Micheal Franti
Hana, I hope you get to tell your story to someone who will listen.
Even if it comes out like a rant, there’s a good chance that it’s got a point.
Big thanks to my fellow members in Write Hearted who provided very useful feedback on this story idea.
and especially for the seesaw graphic idea.
Everything about his story has the HUGE RING OF TRUTH. And I love the way you responded to Hana -- that is inspiring. As well as your willingness to find the tiny grain of useful value hidden in her rant. This is a really lovely story.
Oh Rick. I went off to feed the cats and your words "overly sensitive person like me" were crawling through the back of my mind. Please just snip off the word 'overly' in that sentence. Riding a wave of deep feeling willingly, as you describe in this piece, builds capacity for deep feeling. Riding with you, we share in that growing capacity. To quote Marvin Gaye: "We're all sensitive people, with so much to give..." Thank you.