Mom: How was it being back with your friends?
Indy: Okay, I guess.
Mom: Why just okay?
Indy: They don’t get me.
Mom: (hair up, teeth barred) Were they mean to you?
Indy: No. They’re nice. They just aren’t interested in me.
Other details came later, but, in short, he feels isolated and misunderstood. Or misunderstood and isolated. Hard to know which comes first, yes?
Incidentally, the boy is fine. Group dynamics are tough for him. He tends to do the one-friend thing and he has that friend and she’s a doll. So, I’m not worried, but what mother’s heart doesn’t break a little hearing their son echo feelings of isolation?
I had practical advice. Stephen Covey crap without the “how to make friends” punch line. I told him to ask people questions. In other words, be interested in them. But, that advice is not really a message of hope is it? It’s more so a statement about coming to terms with the existential crap sandwich that is humanity. Yeah buddy, unfortunate news flash. You can count on one hand, for the rest of your life, the people who are genuinely interested in you.
Faith is soooo handy for coming to terms with this reality. Especially if that number of raised fingers on your hand gets low. It’s not that God can be your friend, although some people might think that I guess. It’s that it doesn’t start and end with you and therefore the isolation dissipates a bit. As a person generalizes the horror of their solitary fate, the idea of a source, a constant, a connector of all things alive (and a reason to connect), gets one out of that hole.
Do you agree? To simple? How else can we find hope in isolation? Also any tips on helping my boy, simply, with a message of hope that contains no dogma?