Who You Listen To

 So much of life is all about who you listen to - who you let have a say and what things you allow to stick with you. Also, what things you're willing to let go of. 

The day of the four-year anniversary of losing my Alex, a friend saw me and, noticing my quieter demeanor, said, "Remember to keep smiling!" I left the conversation and had to shake my head at the situation: on a day that is one of the saddest for me, somebody, out of their ignorance, is trying to tell me to keep smiling. While I had sympathy for their ignorance about the circumstances that day, I also had to brush aside the urge to take those words seriously in that moment. Most humans would... 

Keep smiling... right. Keep masking how you feel in order to make others more comfortable. Yup. That's where it's at. 

As the day wore on and I thought a bit about what had happened, I recalled something else this person had said years before when Alex was still around and our friendship was at its best. I had shared openly about our story and how God had miraculously connected two people under the craziest of circumstances because He knew they needed each other. This individual had even prayed, at my request, for Alex during some of his darkest hours. They weren't ignorant about the situation by any means. 

But shortly before I was scheduled to fly down to Texas to finally meet Alex and be in person together after six long years of communication, this person gave me a word that felt like nothing but distraction to me. Something just didn't sit right. It was then that I realized that, for all the sharing I'd done with this individual, my describing Alex's and my journey was no substitute for having experiencing it and truly, only we actually knew what we had. The reality was between this friend and me, our lives, our stories were so very, very different. And so I had a choice as to what I was going to do with that advice. When I ran it past God, I sensed the answer was simple and confirmed what I already felt, "Don't worry about that. Just keep doing what I've told you to do. Go, and enjoy your visit." So I did.  As things turned out, that was the only time we were ever together in person. He was gone ten months later. How quickly life can change in literally the blink of an eye! 

Recalling this memory and then piecing it together with the current encouragement to "keep smiling," I realized that, had I followed each of these bits of input, the story of Alex and I and the journey of my present grief, would be very different... 

If I had paid attention to the suggestion all those years ago, there is no way I could've given the love and the attention that was necessary, nor been true to our friendship or our story in the way that I needed to. I would've come across as less authentic than the way Alex had known me all along. Listening to the advice of someone who didn't really know us and was reading things into our friendship that weren't true could've ruined the ending of our story. And thank goodness, I disregarded it! Because I did, I've been able to say goodbye with no regrets. While I miss him greatly, at least I haven't been saddled with the guilt of wondering if I could've done more. We each gave all we had - right till the very end. There can be no greater peace in the wake of loss than that. 

In the present, I realized the same was true. If I started plastering on a smile - just because somebody who was out of touch that day said so - I would be failing to honor my grief. To give it the place it deserved on that day as I remembered so many special moments I will never get back. I had told myself that day that I was granting my heart permission not to force the happy if it wasn't there. I was giving myself the place to be human. After some thinking, I realized I had the ability to define myself and clarify the situation in a way that helped this person understand what I was going through. 

So I sent a short but sincere text. 

I told them it was nice to see them and I spoke the honest truth: that this day was the day I had lost my dear friend and that I had given myself permission not to slap on a smile if it wasn't there. I thanked them for the reminder to keep finding the joy. I told them I loved them. And I pushed "send." 

See, trust is always about more than just having confidence in someone's integrity or intentions. Most of the time, people give advice or offer help out of a good soul; however, there is a certain level of knowledge and understanding that must've built, between you and someone else, the safety and confidence that would give them the permission to advise in that way. And it takes discernment to know who those confidential people are.

Listening to the wrong people leads you down a road of inauthenticity and regret, asking you to change course or turn into somebody that isn't the real you. It could've altered my relationship and the months I had left with my best friend in ways that I would still be remorseful over today. It can point us toward or away from things that, in reality, we actually should be paying attention to or savoring, causing us to lose out on precious memories or choices that would give us greater meaning and change us forever. 

Yet listening to the right people opens up channels of wisdom and confidence that help guide us and inspire us in ways that propel our stories forward instead of chain us to the past. Keep us on track with the narrative God is writing instead of redirecting us down a path that will take us further away from the life we're supposed to live. 

I share this perspective with you as a word of caution and positive encouragement: take a long, hard look at who you're consistently listening to. Are their words ones of constructive and helpful information or just personal opinion? Do they actually know and understand you well enough to warrant that powerful place of influence over your life? Have they demonstrated the characteristics and track record necessary that you could unequivocally trust their insight? 

Defining this and also learning to define yourself when advice is off-target is an essential part of mental wellness. Without identifying the right sources in your life, you can be blown around by every bit of input and get lost on the journey quite easily. But knowing the trusted voices around you can help sort out what needs to stay and what should go, allowing you to only keep for yourself what is true to the story. 

Because I did what I needed to in order to protect my grief and define my own choices, it allowed me to accept the sympathy of others in my more trusted circle on such a difficult day, letting their words of remembrance and comfort wash over my heart, and not get distracted by the words of someone else who is not living my journey. 

Don't let your story be penned by people who are simply writing lines into it that are only their own and not true to you. Don't let their unsolicited opinion or free advice cause you to make decisions that send you down roads that lead you farther from your inner home, your centered place. By learning how to edit incoming information, I can promise you, you will create for yourself a greater peace and a more authentic way of life. Your response doesn't have to be rude and, in some cases, maybe it doesn't have to said at all. But be sure you guard the truth about yourself, and the story you're co-writing with God, at all costs. 

Someday, down the way, you'll be thankful you did.