In an effort to calm and soothe my exhausted mind and psyche, I’ve returned to using my library card and sampling books that might give me a new and/or deeper perspective on life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
My latest find is Mattering by Jennifer Breheny Wallace.
I only started reading it last night, but I’m already inspired by its common-sense approach to complex human problems, drawing on simple concepts from biology, psychology, and sociology.
Wallace defines “mattering” this way:
“Mattering is the assurance that our presence and actions are significant to others. It’s the pull you feel toward someone who genuinely appreciates you and your input, or the warm feeling you get when you see that your efforts have made a difference. It’s knowing others rely on you in big and small ways. It is the meaningful way we fit into each other’s lives and the wider world, like essential pieces of a puzzle.”
This definition hits close to home because I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how and to whom I matter.
I’m struggling with the feeling that the balance between mattering to the people in my real life and mattering to my online friends has gotten a little lopsided.
Both matter to me. Both feed my soul. Neither is better or worse than the other.
The connections I’ve made online are real connections. The people who read my words, respond to my posts, share and support my work, watch my videos, or simply pop up in my digital life are real people. Their encouragement, laughter, conversations, affection, and occasional “Hey, I needed to hear this today” messages matter.
They remind me that the things I make and write reach beyond the four walls of my little studio and sometimes make a difference in someone else’s day.
But there are other kinds of connections I’ve been missing: real-life friends and real-life friends-with-benefits.
The spontaneous conversations. The hugs and kisses. The laughter and tears. The raised eyebrows and knowing smiles. The ability to feel when someone is having a bad day without them having to type, “I’m having a bad day.”
In other words, the messy, funny, affectionate, occasionally complicated human connections that happen when we share the same physical space.
I miss those.
And, if I’m being completely honest, I miss some of the people who used to be much closer to me. Before the pandemic and depression upended my social life.
Many former dears and nears have become quite distant, while others have more or less disappeared. Of the people I considered close before 2020, only a handful remain close today. And for those who have stuck around, I am beyond grateful for their grace, love, and patience.
Life happens. People change. Circumstances shift. Relationships evolve. Or end.
I understand all of that. Intellectually, at least. But understanding something doesn’t necessarily make me miss some people any less.
Maybe that’s part of what has been bothering me lately. I have plenty of evidence that I matter. I see it daily in the messages, comments, subscriptions, conversations, collaborations, and friendships that exist online.
Yet some small, stubborn part of me still wants someone to sit beside me on the couch.
There is something deeply human about being physically present with another person. And perhaps that’s one reason a decision I’ve been quietly contemplating has started to feel less like a random idea and more like a natural next chapter.
As I mentioned recently, I’m planning to go back to school next fall. I’ll be pursuing a master’s degree in social work, with the goal of becoming a licensed social worker.
Writing that for the world to see feels more than a little strange.
Who do I think I am to think I can help other people? Especially when I’m at least as fucked up as the next guy.
Well, I’m Clint. And I’m Brian. And I think I’ve got what it takes to make a positive difference in other people’s lives.
After spending the past several years rebuilding my own life, navigating my own storms, questioning my own worth, and figuring out how to put the pieces back together in my own life, I’ve become increasingly interested in helping other people do some of the same work.
Not because I have all the answers. Far from it.
Maybe quite the opposite.
I know what it feels like to wonder whether you matter. To feel disconnected. To question your place in the world. To look around at a landscape of discord, distrust, fear, grief, loneliness, and uncertainty and wonder where the hell you fit into all of it.
I also know how powerful it can be when someone reminds me that I do have a place. That I am worthy. That my experiences matter. That I have something to contribute. That I don’t have to have everything figured out to deserve to be here.
Perhaps that’s ultimately what draws me to social work. And to Mattering.
I want to learn how to help others, gay elders in particular, recognize their own worth and value, especially when the world around us seems determined to convince us otherwise.
While we’re increasingly encouraged to divide ourselves into opposing camps, reduce complicated human beings to labels, and assume the worst of people we don’t understand, I’d rather spend my time learning how to help people find their way back to one another.
And perhaps back to themselves.
That doesn’t mean abandoning COLLIDE PRESS or the creative work I’ve spent the past few years building. If anything, I suspect these disparate puzzle pieces are all pointing toward the same things: Creativity. Connection. Community. History. Storytelling. Advocacy. Empathy. And now, perhaps, social work too.
Maybe I’ve been collecting puzzle pieces without realizing what picture they were trying to create.
Which brings me back to “mattering.”
Maybe “mattering” isn’t about choosing between online and offline, or between old relationships and new ones. Maybe it’s about recognizing the different ways we fit into one another’s lives. And being intentional about making room for the kinds of connection we’ve been missing.
Reading Ms. Wallace’s book is reminding me that “mattering” isn’t necessarily about being important to everyone. It’s about having meaningful connections in which our presence makes some kind of difference.
A little puzzle piece here. A little puzzle piece there.
A text message here. A shared meal there.
A creative project here. A hug and kiss there.
A comment from someone thousands of miles away.
A friend sitting beside you watching something stupid on television.
A stranger telling you that something you made made their day.
A furry niece waiting for you to come home.
A person who remembers something you said six months ago.
A person who notices when you’re not quite yourself.
A person who thinks the world of you. And the people you think the world of.
Perhaps that’s the smattering of “mattering” I need right now: not one grand confirmation that my life has meaning, but a collection of small reminders that I’m connected to other people. And that what I do, say, make, and give can ripple outward in ways I may never see or fully understand.
And maybe, in reminding myself that I matter to others, I can also remember something equally important: Others matter to me, too.
Maybe that’s the lesson I’m taking from this book before I’ve even finished reading the first chapter. And perhaps it’s also the reason I’m preparing for my next chapter.
I don’t know exactly where a master’s degree in social work will take me. I don’t know what I’ll be doing with it, who I’ll meet, or whose life I might eventually touch.
But I do know this: I would like to spend the next chapters of my life helping people remember that they matter. Especially when they’re standing in the middle of their own storm and can’t see it for themselves.
That feels like a pretty good reason to go back to school and keep reading this book.
Keep calm and keep going!
Clint 🌈✌️
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BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY
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MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY
“I could be a jerk and get a lot more publicity, but that’s not who I am.”
Pete Sampras
oh Clint, rest assured if you can write like this post you will have a profound impact and matter to more people than you can imagine. As one of those gay seniors you want to help, you have already done so for this old fart. Love ya guy, keep going, you matter enormously to so many already.
Brian, we are expecting a partial eclipse of the sun over our 🏴🇬🇧 skies @ 16:15 tonight. It's 17:52 now and it's starting to dull over. Look out for it on your news feeds. Sadly it's not a full eclipse this time. Cheers DougT 🏴🇬🇧