Finding Your True Tribe

 

One thing about medical trauma and/or prolonged illness is that you learn who your true tribe is. I suppose the same should be true for other tragedies in life (though for some reason, mental health issues still seem to scare most people away from helping and nurturing at all). 

But it’s true. In any and all of those situations above, you learn quickly who you can depend on. You learn quickly who comes to your rescue in your time of fear and desperation. You see it in text messages and phone calls. You see it in dinners cooked and gift cards offered. You see it in baths given and rear ends wiped. You see it in tears dried and prayers offered. In visits, errands, deliveries, surprises... an endless list of acts of service. 

But the 80/20 rule pervades even that. It’s true in life that 80 percent of the work is done by 20 percent of the people. And it’s also true, 80 percent of the things that need to be done in a situation such as this are done by a mere 20 percent of the people you know (if even that many, to be honest). Sometimes it will surprise you who reaches out to you. And sometimes you’re equally surprised at the people who didn’t or don’t. 

You learn who you can count on. You learn who has your back. You learn who’s not afraid to get their hands dirty. You learn who cares about your mental well-being. You learn who would truly miss you if something worse had happened to you. 

It’s a double edged sword though because it’s easy to become bitter about the people who don’t reach out. It’s hard to remember that they need grace too. Or maybe you just aren’t their favorite person, and that’s okay too. It’s just essential to remember not to let that bitterness or disappointment dictate who you become on the other side of the struggle. 

I will always remember those who reached out to me, or those who in some way attempted to bless my family during this burden. My challenge now as I heal is to remember to BE one of those people in my future. To seek opportunities to serve others in the midst of their trials. To remember to be part of the 20 percent. 

I hate that I’ve been through this. I hate what it’s done to me personally and to my physical and mental health. I hate what it’s done to my husband. I hate what it’s done to my mother. I hate what it’s done to my extended family, even our fur-babies. But the worst thing of all would be if I let that hate and anger consume me to the point that it overshadows my compassion. 

I realize how blessed I am to be this far in the healing process. I don’t want to forget from where I’ve come. But it would all be in vain if I don’t learn the importance of Christian servanthood as a result. You THINK you understand until it’s you or your family in the fire. Now I see my responsibility more clearly. 

So thank you to my tribe. And thank you to those not in my tribe. I’m choosing to learn beautiful lessons from this nightmare, and I pray I carry those lessons with me all through this next half of my life, Lord willing.