words from my amy

So this is Amy's page.  
list of posts she'd written.

Wait.  Who is My Amy?

me and amy

We all have those friends.
The friends who listen. 
The friends who support. 
The friends who accept without needing to understand.

 I would drop everything and go find them if they asked me to.

I answer their call in the middle of the night and on my day off. 
 (and that’s saying something)
I text them in wee hours of the morning when tomorrow is just too far away and I’m tired of being alone.

One of these people is my Amy.  Currently Amy lives two hours away from me.  She didn't always, but she does now.   She is first on the list of “safe to call/text/msg when overly inebriated and prone to say things I'll regret later." It is a very short list.

I don’t pretend that what I do changes the world. 

Amy changes the world every day.


She’s one of the strongest people I've ever known.  Daily she's bent to the point of breaking, slogging thru the flaming hell that humans are capable of inflicting on others. At the end of the day she goes home, sleeps and gets up the next morning, to do it all again. 

I know that sometimes life is so overwhelming that the only way to process is to share it. 
She can’t share it.  She can’t share the horrid details.  Even if she could, she doesn't want to burden the people she cares about. 

I listen.  I listen between the lines. 
I don’t need to know why the week was hard.
I just know it was hard, and I give support however I can.

She calls, texts, whatever. 
I listen. 

I know that I can’t fathom what she deals with, but it doesn't matter in the least.
She gives selflessly.  The least I can do is be a shoulder to lean on, a safe place to be, an escape from the hard.

As with any good relationship, it is not one sided.   She's been there this whole time.  

Usually by the end of our conversation the supporter has become the supported. We both smiled at some point, and for a brief moment it’s all okay and tomorrow at least has the possibility of being better. 

It’s not all the crap that we share.  She grins with my joys and I relish her triumphs.

Amy is also a very talented writer, in a completely different style than my own. Despite our different styles we both process our hurts, stresses and joys the same way.  We write them out. 

She’s seen how it has benefited me to write and edit – distill – my thoughts down to something suitable for public consumption.  But she’s not ready yet to commit to writing routinely, she’d like to see if the format works for her.  She asked if I would be willing to let her guest post here once in a while. 

Obviously, I said yes, but I do not say it lightly or easily...in general I don't like sharing personal things, and this space is very much my space.  But, she is one of the three I would say yes to.

No comments:

Post a Comment