Investing in people when they’re down and out is one of the most painful things I do in my life, because when they’re over their trough of depression, they rarely want to know me. I think my presence in their lives beyond that point reminds them of their weakened state, and so to spare their ego, they’d rather block out the unpleasant phase and focus on being their new idea of awesome.
In the meantime, I recede and watch from afar how they blossom now that they’re emerging from their darkness into a state of self-enlightenment, with a million questions forming in my mind about their present state, sometimes venturing as far as asking them a few, but receding again when my approach is ignored. And so the circle of life continues. For some, we’re here only to nourish them when all else fails, and for others, we’re only here to be nourished by them when all else fails.
We can’t afford to be weak for a single moment longer than the time it takes to feel overwhelmed. The vulnerability is too scary, that’s why we have to detach ourselves from those that know of our weakness the moment we regain our strength, because we’re afraid that the reminder will hold us back, when in fact it only grounds us, and keeps us humble. But humility is not in vogue.