In the weeks after the tsunami, I didn't have the strength or energy to get out of bed. I wasn't eating much or able to carry a conversation. Then one day, I realized I was bored. I wanted to shower, change out of my sweat pants and leave the house. I saw a glimmer of my former self. A lot of people can feel really guilty about that choice of wanting to live, but I embraced it. That was somebody—something—giving me a second chance. The desire to go to a store with my mother and walk around for a half hour—that was somebody throwing me a rope.
Accept the Moviegoers and the Hand Holders
After the tsunami, I had some friends whose energy I found extremely comforting. They sat with me in silence when I needed it, and also offered valuable advice. The most surprising thing? These were the people I least expected to be there for me. I didn't know they had that capacity—but I had also never needed to see that side of them before.
Then there were other people I was—and still am—incredibly close to who just didn't have the skill set or tools to give me what I needed in that moment. At first I was angry, but then I realized not everybody can jump into the role of therapist, grief counselor or recovery co-pilot. Some people just don't have that in them.
One friend, in particular, wasn't able to come over and cry with me for hours. But when I was ready to go see a movie, I thought: "I can't wait to see her. Let me call her because I know she'll be able to distract me from this." Everybody falls into his or her natural role. Try not to judge people for what they're capable of giving you. Instead, accept them for who they are and what they can do.