By Andrew Y. //
The Japanese word, “Sayonara”, translates literally into the phrase, “If that’s the way it is”. The phrase, for me, evokes a sense of something both unsettling and final. Perhaps it’s a sad sense of acceptance that some things that were, will never be again.
I’ve been thinking of people who I am unlikely to see again, for various different reasons. Some I haven’t seen since as far back as 15 years. In the Summer of 2003, I had a weeklong stay in camp organised by a drama school, that took place at the YWCA near Fort Canning. I pass by that building on occasion, and I can still remember the dread and anxiety that I felt on the first day in the hotel’s lobby. I was very socially anxious as a child, and my schooling years were very lonely. ( My memories of my schooling years posses that lonely quality that’s present in dreams involving other people ) By the end of that week, however, I surprised myself by experiencing a rare sense of belonging, of not feeling alienated. On the last day, we each sat in a circle and wrote each other messages on paper plates that we passed around. After everyone had written down nice things on each other’s plates, I got back my plate, and for the first time ever, got written confirmation that there were indeed some very nice things about me that other people noticed. I still get chills thinking about it, and I still have that plate, of course. It’s probably the oldest thing I own. ( Besides my namesake )
At the end, we said our farewells, and I never saw any of them again. I probably never will, and even if I passed them on the street or sat down next to any of them on the train, we would probably not recognise each other. I still do think of them. I think of what they might look like now, 15 years older, and I think of how their lives must be, and what their hopes and dreams must look like. Then, that familiar sadness and yearning comes back, and I begin to think of other people I haven’t seen in a long while.
It’s all too human to yearn for things. We’ve all had to say goodbye, and sometimes not amicably. Sometimes, a bad quarrel might end a friendship. Sometimes, people quietly drift away without a hint of a reason. And arguably, sometimes that quiet drifting can hurt much more than a loud quarrel. With friends that say “I’m busy”, far too often, we (or at least I), feel hurt by that uncertainty – we have the added weight of being unsure whether or not to be bitter, and we feel let down, sometimes by people we thought we could count on.
Reading this, you are probably thinking of your own experiences with people, and how difficult some of these experiences and friendships can be. All kinds of relationships have the capacity to hurt us, with all its complications – and sometimes people we care about deeply can unexpectedly hurt us.
It might be a friend you’ve thinking of, who suddenly becomes emotionally unavailable, or perhaps someone you’ve had a misunderstanding with, and thinking of these people probably brings about pain and uncertainty- perhaps, questions too. Questions such as, “Where did I go wrong with you?” or Why are you doing this to me? I didn’t expect you to.”
If these thoughts and questions sound familiar to you, I believe it’s difficult for us not to become jaded in the face of these disappointments. When we start to care and get to know someone, it’s likely that we begin to develop a set of expectations for how that person behaves. Do note that expectations are different from demands – in this instance, I am talking about patterns of behaviour, rather than what we believe about how someone should behave. Sometimes these expectations can leave us to become jaded- perhaps someone we thought we could rely on becomes emotionally unavailable, or it might feel that there is a disproportionate amount of effort on your end to keep up the friendship.
Personally, it’s easy for me to get caught up with the insecurity that I don’t really matter to any of my friends. I’ve gone through periods of my life where I felt like no one would have ever talked to me again if I didn’t reach out first. You can expect that these thoughts can make one unhappy, and also alone, alienated from the rest of the world.
I began to wonder (and still do) if my expectations for others were causing me to feel disappointed. Was I asking for too much, to get a phone call or a text once in a while? In discussing human expectations with others, some people I’ve spoken to have similar expectations, and others believe that it’s not a good idea to have any expectations at all.
I’ve come to the temporary conclusion that while it is difficult not to have any expectations at all, but I believe that all of us deserve at least a chance to be understood. For that to happen, we have to become vulnerable in some capacity to other people, whether they are family, friends or people we seek out in support groups or elsewhere. This is incredibly daunting, and especially so, if you have a jaded view of people already, and this brings us back to what I believe is a truth that’s difficult to accept.
The truth is that people can be difficult and selfish and flawed- but it doesn’t exclude them from caring, and while we can experience a perceived neglect, my hope, for all of us, is for us not to be bitter in the face of uncertainty. We shouldn’t automatically assume that what’s making them selfish is easy for them to overcome. Perhaps they too are going through things that we are not privy too.
Some self disclosure here- I never liked “Chin up” style advice from people who’ve never known worse- because it’s precisely the kind of counterproductive advice to give someone that’s vulnerable . I know that you’ve probably tried hard at maintaining your relationships, and I certainly don’t wish to present what I’ve learnt in the manner of a very moralistic, preachy kind of lecture. I do agree emphatically that certain people can be, frankly speaking, toxic and unhealthy for others. I’ve experienced disappointments that shake my convictions about the value of friendship, and also healed through those very disappointments to again be hurt, and so on and so forth. My hope is that my disclosure provides some weight behind what I’m trying to say, and that it doesn’t cause you to roll your eyes. Because it isn’t easy believing in human goodness, and I don’t expect you too. But I am hoping that you’ll try.
Andrew Yuen is a freelance writer and photographer. His interest in writing started when he was given a vintage typewriter. He has an interest in human nature, alienation, and the struggle with meaning. He has also written Boys Don’t Cry.