Jed Wolf

Throughout my life I believed my strain of social anxiety was abnormal. Though a few drinks brought out cheap charisma, a new car or tan – faux self confidence, nothing ever lasted. Creativity engaged my monkey mind but I inevitably felt lonely and isolated among my creations, possessions and especially other people.

As an uneasy little kid, a fretful teenager and nervous adult, I believed our culture, with remedies for everything, exacerbated and encouraged my unease, but that was little comfort.

These days, whether hidden or in plain sight, the familiar shadow of vulnerability still follows me everywhere. The language and lifestyle I use to hide or manage it is boring while less healthy ways to address it leave me worse off of course.

Depressions from which I can usually emerge with new outdoor projects come and go as my yard get’s more and more, “interesting.” Unless I’m working or having a glass of wine in it, my beautiful surroundings offer no real solace. Unnecessary improvements – just that.

I’m easily bored talking with friends, entertaining one another or trotting out dissatisfactions and plans, yet what else is there?

So last night, sleeplessly self-flagellating over my latest sociopathic tendency, I was pleasantly surprised to run across an NPR interview with “L’Arch” founder Jean Vanier.

In 1964, Vanier invited two men with intellectual disabilities to live with him. He named their house L’Arche (lärsh) after Noah’s Ark. Gradually, Vanier welcomed more mentally disabled folks, now L’Arche communities have spread world wide.

The interview struck familiar notes within me and what I do singing for people in memory care. Down’s syndrome taught Vanier what people with dementia teach me about the human heart, “if only I’d listen,” I thought.

“Can we reasonably have a dream of a world where people, whatever their race, religion, culture, abilities or disabilities can find a place and reveal their gifts?” Vanier said.

Vanier believed human touch, so sexualized or feared in our culture is essential to human contentment, yet we’re easily depressed in each others’ company ‘cause we’re terrified to hug. We’d rather remain estranged like foreigners navigating and interpreting each others’ longings and fears than risk appearing needy or vulnerable.

Being taught how to trust and become better humans by people with disabilities was key for Jean Vanier and was becoming so for me as well, so why was I fretting?

Last night I realized I’ll never fit in with “normal” people, so I’m giving up trying. I don’t care if I’m misunderstood. I’m done “acting” okay or hopeful when things suck out there.

Rather than just starving or blaming myself, Trump or anything else for this aching heart, I’m gonna go heal it by nurturing people who need it and can accept it. I’m gonna volunteer at the l’Arch in Jacksonville.