Pain Over Politics — Interruption #23

What happens when we focus on our shared pain?

Elmar Gubisch/Canva

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I’m not sure what got into me last week, but I was in a fighting mood. I found myself responding to nasty comments on Substack, even though I knew perfectly well that I’d be better off not engaging. I yelled at my kids, and I felt ornery toward friends and coworkers. I became obsessed with being right.

If only the rest of the world could accept that I’m right, I kept thinking, we could all save ourselves a lot of trouble.

It was my neighbor across the street who inadvertently saved me from myself, which is weird, because he’s so often wrong. He makes off-color remarks about women, definitely doesn’t vote for the candidates I vote for (if he votes at all), and spends most of his time engaged in screechy DIY house projects that rarely go as planned.

My neighbor, whom I’ll call Robert, is also really sad these days. His adult daughter is drinking too much and throwing her life away. He wants to save her, but he doesn’t know how.