Words of appreciation can have power to connect us and heal us

By David McElroy · September 19, 2016

Never doubt the power of the right words to make someone’s life more pleasant and more bearable.

I’m in a pretty lousy mood tonight because I have an unexpected problem on my hands that I have to solve. After dealing with a series of one problem after another for more years than I like to remember, it’s been a relatively minor thing tonight that pushed me over the edge toward the pit of depression and irrational anger, a place I don’t want to go.

In the long term, I’m still on track to fix the problems in my life that started six or eight years ago after I withdrew from politics, so I know this is just one more minor hurdle to overcome. The issue wouldn’t even be that big a deal for most people, but it was the proverbial straw to break this camel’s emotional back.

I found myself feeling bitter, angry, frustrated and defeated — as well as empty and alone.

But in the midst of feeling these horrible emotions tonight, I’ve gotten messages from two people which honestly help.

One friend wrote to mention how much some of my writing means to him. He didn’t specify what has meant something to him. He didn’t specify why it had been important to him. He just said that something about my writing “helps me in ways you don’t understand.”

Is there any better praise for a writer than to make a difference in someone’s life?

Then I got an email from a stranger who said he just wanted to tell me how much he enjoys my writing since he recently discovered it. His words were so effusive and so positive that it was hard for me to recognize them as being about me. The message was from someone who seemed to understand the underlying intentions of my writing and who strongly praised the actual writing.

Isn’t that sort of praise a bigger deal for a writer than getting a million web hits from people who are coldly indifferent?

Neither of these messages changed anything about the problem that has me frustrated tonight. On a pragmatic level, nothing is any different. I still have to solve a serious, immediate problem. Nothing about their messages changed any of that.

But their words helped to bandage my hurting heart just a bit. They made me feel appreciated and they even made me feel slightly less alone.

I think we all need (and in many cases crave) connection with people who appreciate us and understand us, at least to a degree. Words of appreciation from these two people — one who I know and one who I don’t know — make me feel that tonight.

Words matter.

Appreciation matters.

Connection matters.

Remember that some people around you need a word or two from you — just as you probably need some kind words from others, too, at least at times.

Connection can help us make it through bad times and it can give meaning to the good times. We need each other far more than we sometimes recognize.

Please find someone around you today and let him or her know what you appreciate about him or her. You might be shocked by how much your simple words can mean.

Just try it.

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I have changed radically about some things over the years, but probably none of those changes have been as great as the ways that I feel about people who are viewed as evil or criminal. When I was young, I was eager to see criminals or foreign political enemies killed. Today, I don’t view such people though rose-colored glasses and I don’t view them as blameless folks who are going to turn their lives around if we just think happy thoughts. But I can’t celebrate the death of anybody, even if he might deserve it in some ways of thinking about it. Even if it’s sometimes necessary to kill someone — and those cases are often debatable — I regret the death of someone who will now never have a chance to discover love and change his life. There are some evil people in this world, but I can’t celebrate their deaths.

There was a time when I was idealistic enough to believe that if a writer expressed his thoughts clearly and simply enough, any bright and honest person would understand his point. I know better now. We all bring so many unconscious assumptions to the things we read that we often see what we expect to see instead of what the writer intended. This is incredibly frustrating to me as a writer, but I’m trying more and more to just say what I need to say — as clearly as I know how — and then ignore the inevitable responses which show that others perceived something which was not intended. I have to write for those who “get” where I’m coming from, not for those who see my words through personal filters that change my meaning. I hope my intentions are clear to you and I hope what I write can be useful to you, but if not, maybe my work just isn’t right for you. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

I found out this evening that someone I casually knew killed himself last Wednesday. I didn’t know him well — and I never found him personable — but he had started work a couple of months ago at a restaurant where I go. He was a 26-year-old who struck me as a confused and unhappy person, but I didn’t think much about it since he stayed to himself and resisted my efforts to chat with him. It turns out that he had a history of depression and had a lot of gender confusion. He seemed very androgynous to me and I learned today that he presented himself as female in some situations. He was rejected by a romantic interest last week, so he went to the woods and killed himself. His body wasn’t found for three days. It’s tragic how miserable people around us can be and how we so rarely know the truth about things they struggle with.

I’ve been with people for most of this day, but I feel lonely tonight. I’ve had things on my mind for the last few days that I feel the strong need to talk about. I need someone to share my thoughts with — someone who’s interested in ideas and how they affect us. Someone who gets excited to discover new things and can find joy in seeing new ways those things might change our lives. I feel lonely tonight because I painfully remember what it feels like to have that — and I’m craving that sort of connection. I miss having someone I can call and say, “I’ve been reading something and it’s sparked some thoughts I want to share with you.” Those sorts of conversations have lasted for hours for me in the past — or for thousands of words if it’s an exchange of mail — and it feels wrong that there is nobody who wants to hear such things from me tonight. I used to think being lonely was about being alone, but I understand now it’s a longing for one particular person. The loneliest place to be when you need one person is in a crowd composed of people who cannot be who you need.

I don’t agree with everything the late Neil Postman wrote, but I would argue that no other recent scholar gives coherent structure to the last few hundred years in the way his books do. I’m currently re-reading his book, “Technopoly,” and I’m comforted to have a scholar give structure and definitions to things which I’ve observed and barely understood. I was enough of a technophile when I first read this book that I bristled at much of what it said. I didn’t want him to be right and it was easier to dismiss him as a Luddite. But as I see technology continue to enable an information glut which is changing society for the worse, I find comfort in his explanations for how we got here. I don’t yet know the solutions, but I finally understand the problems more clearly. I suspect that much of what we need to make life more meaningful can be found in things we accidentally threw away in the past to make room for technologies. I strongly urge you to read the book and think about its implications.

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