Said twice too many times yesterday and I began to wonder
if it’s true, if that’s really how I feel: Misery Loves Company. Granted it was said both times in an attempt
to elicit wry amusement. Granted maybe
the phrase was stuck in my head the second time around. Granted I said it to show what a clever girl
I am.
Clever indeed. So
clever as to leave myself pondering the phrase and my intent the rest of the
day.
It’s an ugly truth, but one I suspect I am not alone
in. I do in fact take comfort in company
in my misery. Not an actual, physical
presence. Which occurs to me to be
backwards. That a hand or a hug or even
a kind smile should afford me some comfort on my lowest days. But it does not. The comfort in company I take is the Soul caught
with the same issue or situation that I am.
To know that, even if only one, someone else understands. Some other person knows this same struggle I’m
facing.
Yet two questions kept my mind abuzz yesterday. Am I miserable? And, if so, I am trying to drag the people I know
with me? My immediate response was “maybe”
and a vehement, outraged “no”. But time
passed and that response changed to “sometimes” and “maybe”. The former was refreshing; sometimes seems reasonable
and a little thought gave me certainty that my miserable moments have been on a
steady decline for awhile now.
But the latter gave me pause. Because it’s one thing to discover a kindred
spirit, to find a person that happens to share a struggle, to hear a person
voice a frustration I am so familiar with.
And it’s another entirely to create or awaken or remind another’s
misery. I find myself whining and
sharing my over-contemplation far too often lately. And in the moment, I just focus on the urge
to vent, the want for a witness. But the
emotions ease and I become concerned that I am, in fact, pulling someone else
into my gray.
Go ahead and judge me for it. You can’t be any harder on self than I am. I know that it’s an undesirable character
trait. But I also know that it’s a human
desire I refuse to be ashamed of. It’s a
survivor’s instinct; an emotional safeguard. But I am not a man drowning, not any
longer. So while I can accept that
natural instinct to seek company in the misery moments, I can also push back
against it. In fact, I think by
accepting it, by recognizing it for what it is, I am all the more capable to
catch and release the act before it actually happens.
Because, yes, misery loves company. And if we happen upon some in our dark days
or moments, we should marvel and accept and find comfort. But misery should not create company to console
itself. If anything, misery should seek
the people or the words or the music or whatever rescue it can find that creates
a little hope.
And because I can’t let the moment pass without a little information…
A 14th century Italian historian, Dominici de Gravina, first gave us
the sentiment: “It is a comfort to the unfortunate to have had companions in
woe”. And John Ray coined the actual
phrase. But Christopher Marlowe used the
sentiment best in Doctor Faustus, the story of a man that sells his soul to the
devil for money and power. (No you won’t
get any spoilers from me; I believe in reading.)
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