Yesterday a woman called Pat tried to be friendly to me at coffee by telling me how it was possible to misjudge people when you first meet them. This lady Pat and I have history.
This is because I did misjudge her when first met her. She came in a large group of new starters and she was the one who engaged the others in conversation when she should have been helping to move the boat. The boats are heavy and we all help to lift them. I thought of her as "the woman who thinks everyone else should carry the boat for her". Anyway, it turned out she had all sorts of things wrong with her and she was medically unable to move the boat. (She was able to row it though, after a fashion.) As time has gone on, there are more members who are not well enough to lift the boat because they have problems you can't see, like osteoporosis. When they play a part in the club you forgive them for the things they can't do, and admire them for the things they do do, or you think about how lucky you, personally, are, that anno domini hasn't caught up with you yet.
On another occasion she decided to obliquely "tell me off" by talking about people at the club who weren't friendly to her when she first came along and how certain other people her had come to her rescue when she was going to give up. I could tell by her look that she meant me amongst the "bad" club members. I didn't really care. It seemed to me then that the club, which is a sports club, was getting very full of people who don't really do the sport. Now I am more appreciative of people who just like to come along.
Anyway, she was charming and tried to engage me on this subject, obviously expecting that I should share a confidence with her. I said "I am a very bad judge of people. I nearly always misjudge them." and I thought of friends that I had lost because they were the wrong friends, who didn't value me at all. I could have told her about these friends whom I knew when I was young but I think it is still too personal to share. I keep myself to myself. And I thought about what I was trying to write about and how damaged I am and how you can't exchange that in a coffee and chat session. Pointless. But I also thought about how often thoughts are too complicated to share with other people.
When my children were under 10 I used to tell them all my complicated thoughts. We lived in the country and I had no friends I could talk to. Once F said to me: "Mummy you're talking to me like I'm a MUCH OLDER CHILD!" "Oh, am I?" I said. I tried to work out if I was doing her any harm, if the subject matter wasn't suitable. I thought whatever I was talking about wouldn't do her any harm, and then I carried on regardless.
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