Step One: Show Up

Step One: Show Up

John Paul Derryberry

Confusion, disbelief, suspension of reality, and deep, deep sadness were felt through my childhood home in Orwell, Ohio, when my family dragged ourselves back into it after finding out our dad died in a car accident.  But there was still something hopeful that occurred that day. People kept coming by the carload to our house to check on us. I remember the car ride Beth and Greg took me on to get me out of the house. I remember Sam, a classmate, swinging by. I remember the whole baseball team showing up too. Countless others, again and again, checking on us and telling us it would be okay. I knew it wasn't going to be okay, but it was nice to hear someone say it.

This story has been on my mind a lot this week. Making people not feel lonely in their what should be the most lonely moments of their lives is such a tremendous act of compassion.  Another round of new people moved into some of the programs I lead. As I learned about them from staff, their care teams, and their own words, it was evident that, in their loneliest moments, they were not afforded the compassionate acts I was given. I think we often forget this when we pass judgment on others. We are all a collection of moments until we connect with another human being. All our previous moments pour into the new interactions. Some of what makes some of us struggle is of our own doing; there is no denying that. But how much is it the number of times they no-showed when we needed them, or, worse, when they did show up, it was full of resistance, hate, anger, or worse, dismissiveness.

I have no idea where I would be if I were gifted dismissiveness upon my dad’s death. It would not be where I am today, that's for sure. Nothing makes a person feel more lonely than to be struggling to hold it together and then having it dismissed as if it does not even matter. Unfortunately, I have seen it too many times in my career.  The permanent look from my clients throughout all my years in this field: “I know I do not matter.” Followed closely by the look of confusion when we people start showing up for them with compassion and care. It’s a long process to heal an invisible wound, a broken spirit, or a discarded human.  I know it all too well.

Trust me, I know there is more than showing up. If showing up was enough, we would have put a larger dent into the social and community problems we face with addiction, mental health, and other disabilities. But you can’t do anything without showing up. It’s the first step in making someone feel less lonely. It’s the first step in ensuring they remember their life has value, no matter the state they find themselves in.  And no one turns their life around when they feel lonely and unvalued. I know it sounds like an oversimplification of how to help people, but the longer I do this, the more I understand how simple it is. Show up, again, and again, and again. Everyone eventually figures out the other stuff over time, what to say, how to say it, how to handle the relapse, how to set boundaries, but we can do none of those things without showing up.