Your Friend's Messy House

You have a friend, maybe several friends, reluctant to have you visit or even see past their front door.  Your friend can take five minutes to locate a single document on his desk, or to locate her keys in her purse.

You think, my friend doesn't care about getting organized; such a slob, but I like my friend anyway.

Well, your friend probably suffers from depression or crippling anxiety, or both.  Your friend really wants everything to be perfect, and is so embarrassed that the item can't be quickly located, they start stressing.  If you could monitor their heartbeat and blood pressure while they search their desk, their car, their pockets, you would see that both are skyrocketing.  If you watch their face, you'll see it either go pale or get dark red patches.  Their hands are perspiring heavily.

And this happens to them several times a day.  At least.

Later in the day, reflecting on the incident, your friend is deeply ashamed.  "I can never do anything right," they think.  "I disappoint other people all the time."

So....go easy on them.  Maybe you can help; probably you can't. 

Probably the best thing you can do for your friend is, at some other time and in some other context, praise their skill at something:  "You tell such great jokes."  "I can't tell you how much it cheered me up when I came into the meeting and saw that you'd be there, too."  "Your friendship and support mean a lot to me."

Enjoy Your Blessings

I'm getting old. (Well, so's everyone who isn't dead.) I watch my friends losing mobility, having cataract surgery, using canes. So every time I can watch something beautiful, every time I can step up to a high curb, or run for a minute to catch my bus, drive my own car where and when I want, I realize that these simple pleasures may be denied to me someday -- and it's time to enjoy what I have now.

Sunsets. Smiles. Happy events in the lives of your friends and family. Beautiful music. Soft warm clothes. Clean freshly-bathed skin. Yummy food. An interesting idea.

-- Rachel Holmen