Truth is they do. We’ve all experienced mean girl syndrome. Whether we’re college age or middle aged, it still crops up. Still, even at these later ages, it’s mainly females who are the culprits yet again, although some males – not many in my experience – seem to love drama as well. I’ve talked to a few friends recently and we’ve come to some conclusions. Some people just drag negativity around with them like a worn out security blanket. They don’t even know it, but they feed off it; they feel secure in that dark place (even when they tout how wonderful and positive their life is). They seek out others who are just as negative and needy – for comfort and stability. Of course they don’t realize it at the time, but just like most behaviors in life, it develops subconsciously.

We all know someone like this, it’s just that many don’t know what the signs are. I know I sure didn’t until just recently. They are the ones who are always sick, the ones who are followed around by tragedy and pain, the ones who attract bad relationships and build them on lies and weak foundations. When you surround yourself with these types, you will find yourself becoming physically ill and mentally drained, confused, and stressed out. They are the ones who will tell anyone anything to either keep a friend or to become one.   There are also those that will listen to any story and believe it, even when it simply does not make sense.  They might present themselves as a wonderful person but inside are very insecure and unhappy.

They are the ones who claim to abhor drama, but reach out for it at every step and welcome it as soon as it makes an appearance. They are unable to rationalize or apply common sense when drama comes their way, and are more likely to believe anything presented to them because it seems to ignite and fuel their distorted view of the world. Their world within them, rather than what they present falsely on the outside.  Unfortunately many of these people do not hold long term relationships and we find them stirring the same bubbling cauldron of drama quite often.

It’s difficult when you have a personality like I do – that of a “fixer”. I’m constantly, to a fault, trying to fix people; Constantly trying to make sense of people. And in my field I’m well aware that individuals can only fix themselves, yet I still fall prey to my own mind sometimes. I’ve been bitten in the ass more than once over this, yet I still feel to stand up for what I believe is right and still is the best thing for me to do.

It also drives me nuts to have people think poorly of me. Especially those who I’ve called a friend in past. But, just like in Middle School, there’s always going to be that person who is so unhappy with their life, that they will intentionally spread lies and need to harm others to get into a certain crowd. You might even find afterwards, upon talking to impartial people, that this person said some things to indicate their jealousy of you, or their hatred for you – because they didn’t have the bonds of that friendship that you possessed. Quite sad really, and honestly, at any age it’s quite troubling.

People will believe about you what they will. You cannot change that; you cannot fix that. In time, the truth will appear, usually after they’ve learned whatever lesson it is the universe is trying to present to them. By surrounding yourself with stable, healthy people is always, without a doubt, the best route.  Also, keep in mind, that you should never, ever have to convince an authentic friend of your character.   When you find it’s necessary to defend your character to a friend, chances are that friend was never actually a true friend at all.

As for wanting to fix people, you have to understand that it’s just not possible. As for wanting to fix wrongs done to you – sometimes you just have to let it go. You have to realize that sometimes losing friends is truly a gift! It is a gift to your self, to your health, to your own mental stability. So if you are feeling down over the loss of a friendship, picture it as a beautifully dressed package with a big gorgeous bow tied upon it, flowing down upon the sides. It is a gift just for you, of a new healthy start.   I guarantee you when you let go of the burden of negative relationships, you will feel the weight lift and the burden ease instantaneously.   And… with any luck you will have learned something from it that you can apply to the future.

The first time Scotty graced my presence was during our opening week in the summer of 2012.  A towering man around my age, with an umbrella in one hand and a bus pass in the other stepped through the doorway.  He took a quick walk around the place, and audibly noted items for sale.  He voiced each item twice, “books one dollar, books one dollar, brown boots six dollars, brown boots six dollars.”  I immediately thought of the movie Rain-Man and thought surely this man was autistic.  He stayed a mere two to three minutes and made his way to the door where the sign posting the store hours caught his eye.  Reading it out loud and storing this important information in his memory bank, he repeated twice that days hours and quickly went out the door.  As he shuffled down the main street I could hear him chattering to himself as he clutched tightly to his umbrella.

The man came in every couple days and did the same thing.  I began to notice that he would stand at the door, let his eyes do a quick scan of the store, and at this point he would step over the threshold and name off the items that were new to store since his last visit.  The amazing part was that the new items were scattered amongst the older items, leading me to be quite impressed with his memory skills.

Day after day he arrived and departed so quickly; he spoke so quickly that I was unable to string a sentence together before he made his exit.  Each afternoon I would come home and relay the stories of these people to my family.  One day my husband said, “you know… when I was a kid there was a boy in the neighborhood, who now that I look back on it, was probably autistic.  I got into several fights for sticking up for him.  His name was Scotty.  I wonder if it’s the same guy!”

So I worked the store and waited for what seemed like forever for this man to pop in.  I wanted to try and ask his name.  One morning I gazed out of the large store window and that familiar ball cap and umbrella caught my eye.  I thought to myself, “Please let him come in here today.”  About thirty minutes later I heard that familiar bellowing, “Open Monday 12-4, Monday 12-4.”  I smiled as he stepped through the doorway.  He made a beeline to the stack of CD’s and albums, mumbling as he thumbed through each old record.  He recited each artists name and album title.  I had faith he would remember each one; storing them securely into his memory bank.

He turned toward the doorway and in his usual fashion recited the next days hours, twice.   I excitedly chimed in, “Oh wait, wait!”  He stopped, but didn’t make eye contact as I continued, “You come here all the time and I don’t even know your name.  What is your name?”  “Scott, Scott”, he replied (and gave his last name -twice – which confirmed the connection).  It was him!  Now all grown up, this was once the boy my husband knew as a child.  He asked my name.  “Sheila”, I said smiling, “it’s nice to know your name Scott.”  He repeated the store hours again for the next day and then said, “Sheila, Sheila” as he walked back through the door to his next destination.

Every time he comes into the store now we address each other by name.  Gradually we’ve worked our way into short conversations.  I will ask, “what are you doing today Scott?” and he will reply, “What are you doing today, I can do whatever I want to today, whatever I want to”, as he clutches his bus pass. He has even taken to a pair of antique women’s ice skates in the window.  Asking permission first, he now comes into the store just to run his fingers along the old, worn, white leather.   “Ice skates, ice skates, white women’s ice skates.  Can I touch them?  Oh yes, white leather ice skates, smooth like Miracle Whip salad dressing.  White women’s ice skates.”

I see Scott often.  Waiting for the bus, gently rocking on his feet;  slightly swaying with his bus pass in hand; that familiar mumble.  I wonder where he is off too, what adventures he is headed for.  I wonder if other people like me are nice to him, and dread with my whole heart the thought that they might not be.  I imagine all the things in his mind and how he might process life.  I wonder what it’s like in there, inside his world.  I feel so happy and blessed that the universe has connected me to him, that his energy has touched mine.  I can state without a doubt that when I’m feeling a little misunderstood I think of Scott and the issues he lives through daily.

Their world is so different than our own.  We are always trying to “fix” them.  I don’t know if that is the answer.  I think we can learn a great deal from them.  I think they bridge the gap to the next level in human evolution.   Where everything is seen to the absolute fullest down to the minute detail.    Where one takes the time to stop and enjoy the simple things that make them happy.   Like him – not everyone will understand me at all times, but in my head I am just happy to be me.