It was the middle of summer— a hot, sunny day at the end of July— and I was sitting on the beach with some family members.
I had been unemployed for a few long months at that point, a solid 6 if we’re counting.
“Taylor, how’s work going?” a family friend who was not up-to-date on my employment status, asked.
I had seen her the year prior, in the same spot, at the same beach, during the same week. At that point in time, I was living the typical young adult life (when I say typical, know I mean stereo). Renting an apartment in the city, working in corporate America, going out every weekend, doing the damn thing, if you know what I mean.
I replied, “Oh, I’m not working at my old job anymore, actually. Right now, I’m unemployed.”
It never mattered how many times I said those words. They never came out smoothly. I said them a hundred thousand times, it felt like, and each time they rolled off my tongue, my face contorted, my hands got sweaty, and I felt my body flush. I could have said, “I’m a failure,” and it would have felt the same. That societal judgement was always looming over my inevitable answer, regardless of what I felt about myself. The world ruthlessly judges.
The family friend replied, “What?! I thought you were the one everyone was banking on!”
“Yeah, well, I’ve handed that role over to someone else in the fam,” I chimed back.
It was all in a laughing, joking manner. No hard feelings, no digs. Just casual updates and some humor to cushion the comments. She was trying to make light of the situation, and I was glad there were no further questions.
After we laughed that comment off, the conversation died down, and just as we were on the cusp of naturally switching topics, my aunt spoke up.
“I still think it’s going to be you.”
And suddenly, I wasn’t chuckling anymore. My smile faded, but my heart fluttered. If I were at the end of a rainbow, those words would have been my pot of gold.
~
That comment might have rolled off my aunt’s tongue without a second thought. Maybe she said it because she wanted to “save” me in the conversation. Or maybe she really meant it. I don’t know.
What I do know is that subtle support has carried me along during my hardest journeys. It hasn’t been the overly dramatic, loudly proclaimed support that has infused me with hope. It has been the quiet comments, the soft pats on the back, the glimmers of optimism, the look I get when I know someone gets it. That they hear me. That they believe in me.
When you’re in the thick of a struggle, no matter how much you repeat to yourself that you’re doing what you need to be doing and that you’re learning what you need to be learning, hearing someone else’s verbal support is so relieving. At that time, I was rooting for myself, on my hardest days and easiest ones, but I hadn’t heard anything of the sorts from someone else in a very long time. It genuinely gave me the momentum to keep going.
What might have seemed like a causal comment or an nbd moment, was anything but in my eyes. Clearly, it’s been almost eight months since that day, and I still think about what my aunt said.
~
My hope is that you find it in you to lightly encourage the people in your life. You don’t have to shout from the rooftop or buy them flowers or do any grand gesture. I can promise you that the little things make a difference. They really, really do.
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