Years ago when I worked in the corporate world I was head-hunted to fix the credit control department for a well-known plc. It was a job that nearly broke me. There was a period of several weeks when I “drew myself up” with a deep breath and painted a smile on my face each morning as I headed up the escalators to my desk. And at the end of each day I headed home beaten and exhausted again.
Had the national news media reported that part of my life as they are reporting this Rona part of all our lives – I would have been destroyed mentally, spiritually and physically. Each day would have been speculated over, both likely and unlikely scenarios drawn and pored over, diverse and polar-opposite opinions would have been aired and chewed-over. In short – for the purposes of filling news schedules I would have become irrelevant –
The story created by the media (not me) would have become “the news” as it does with almost all long-running news “stories”.
Clinically Extremely Vulnerable
Last March I was invited by our government to view our two-year old grandson as a silent deadly assassin. One who, if allowed closer than six feet to me, would transmit a deadly virus. I bought-into that fear. I remember being wary-fear-scared of his mere presence back then less than a year ago.
In the year of living with Rona (rather than not living because of Rona and that fear) … had that invitation been true then (or now) I would already be dead. Yet the belief of science then meant I bought into that invited fear for longer than I would ever have thought possible.
That is and will be my lasting memory of this corona-covid19-virus part of my life.
Not the numbers nor the science, not the Pfizer or Oxford vaccines, nor the efficacy or mutations – but the part when I actually really believed that this real (loved and loving) two-year old innocent young child would kill me by his mere presence.
Funny thing … beliefs.
Just as back in the corporate part of my life when I didn’t break – when one senior manager listened to my fears and doubts – told me what to do and let me get on and do it – who allowed me to see how to fix not a department but a collection of real and individual human beings who had simply been mismanaged for a long time …. And then slowly and surely – human being by human being – that “department” became one which performed month after month. That “department” became a collection of human beings who believed in themselves and each other. Became a department that others wanted to be part of. All because one senior manager didn’t see me – or believe me to be – “broken”, but simply in need of an injection of self-belief.
Funny thing … beliefs.
Just like a year ago our little two-year old grandson simply needed an injection of my belief in his innocence and his unconditional love. He needed love to believe he was loved. We all do.
I am not a statistic. I am not a news story. The corona-covid19-virus is out there. It has been for a year now in my life and location. And yet here I am tapping away on my keyboard just as I did a year ago. Just as I expect to be tapping away a year from now.
I am the only one who believes what I believe because I am the only one inside my own head, heart and soul.
You can help. We can all help each other. But just like my “corporate life” didn’t break me – just like our wee grandson is not a deadly assassin – just like every day I choose what I believe I am or not …
This vaccination programme rolled out “at pace” won’t change me for more than a few fleeting moments. Not inside where I do the changing. Where I change me every minute of every day of every week. I choose what I believe I am or not. And you can help me every minute of every day. Just as I can help you.
Because almost all of us default to kindness (usually only in private as we have been taught) – because kindness heals inside where no one else can heal.
News stories don’t. The media doesn’t. Neither are of kindness almost always. All are of noise and headlines and numbers.
Less than one year ago I chose not to let Rona break my soul connection. I still choose not to.
I hope you don’t either.