A conversation that changed me
- 1 day ago
- 3 min read
By A-M Mawhiney
I was a gloomy kid. So gloomy, in fact, my dad nicknamed me “Eeyore” after the tailless donkey in Winnie The Pooh by A.A. Milne. It makes sense the four-line poems I wrote at this early age were dark, as they must have mirrored my mood.
A few years ago, I rediscovered an envelope my mother had saved containing a few of my poems written at age eight. I’ve since wondered what had changed me from such a young, pessimist poet to someone who has always looked for hope in what can, at times, be challenging times. Then I recalled a childhood conversation with my mom at the age when was writing those poems.
My father changed jobs the year I started grade five. He was an elementary school principal, and we moved to a new community with a larger school. After a few weeks, I became ill and spent a week in bed. During the weekend I perked up but the following Monday I felt ill again.
My mother came into my bedroom mid-morning. She sat down and started a conversation. While some of the details are vague, I do recall she raised the possibility that I was having difficulties adjusting to my new school. I remember telling her I missed my old friends and no one in my class was very friendly. My mom glanced around the room and saw my copy of PollyAnna by Eleanor M. Porter.
“You’ve been reading Pollyanna. Let’s play her Glad Game,” she said. “What are some good things about our move?” My answers acknowledged the move was good for my father and for the slightly larger home we now lived in. This made me realize that the move was not just about me.
That afternoon I went back to school and, to my surprise, classmates rushed over to greet me, glad I was feeling better. I walked home that day with Mary, who is still a friend. The rest of my memories in that community are filled with many happy adventures with a small gang of neighbourhood kids.
Somehow that conversation with my mother changed the way I looked at the world and my place in it. From my new friends I learned the power of kindness. I also discovered a sense of belonging because of the joyful way my new friends included me. That my classmates seemed so concerned about me taught me a lesson I never forgot—while I was not the centre of the universe, people still cared about me. This is a very good lesson to learn at a young age.
It is obviously important to acknowledge the challenges, crises, and sad events we all experience at times in our lives. It may take time and support to find hope in the face of tragedy. But, inevitably, one day we may be able to find a glimmer of hope, often found in a kind act by someone who cares.
At other times, if we were to reach out to someone else who is overwhelmed with their life, we may be the ones to nurture that glimmer of hope in them, while finding purpose for ourself.
Helping others can build strength and resilience in our community and beyond. Even small gestures of kindness and tangible support can foster a sense of neighbourly or community resilience. When I was a mental health practitioner I was struck by how often someone who was going through difficulties would bring meaning and healing into their own life by helping others.
If you are searching for something more in your own life, look around and find somewhere you can inspire hope for others. It may be joining an outreach organization, volunteering, or even helping a neighbour who needs some assistance. It might surprise you how important even small gestures are for other people.
My mother had no idea the impact that childhood conversation had on me, but I know it changed the way I looked at life, even back then. After all, around the same time my dad stopped calling me Eeyore.
Connect With A-M
Comments