Hindsight is the Best Teacher Ever
By: Liz Porter
Tags: Philosophy, Mindset, Self, Self Improvement, This Happened To Me

Memoir: Silent Fright — Chapter Ten

Hindsight is the Best Teacher Ever

Everyone passes through your life for a reason

Photo by Zoriana Dmytryk on Unsplash

He popped the tab on his Coke can with one hand and gave me a little smirk as he took his first sip.

I didn’t know Logan well; he was just another co-worker sharing the lunchroom. A few seats away from mine, he munched away on his roast beef sandwich without a word.

There was a TV on the far wall, just noise to me, but he seemed to be following it and chuckled along with the audience.

My lunch, long since abandoned, was pushed aside as I sat alone mindlessly flipping through a Cosmopolitan.

I was so desperately empty inside I didn’t have any love, patience, or compassion for anyone else. I’m sure my body language was sending that message loud and clear.

My insides felt frozen, my heart hardened, and I cared less and less about everything. I was spiralling downhill with no hope in my heart. I’d lost my sense of self, and my spirit was crushed.

I wasn’t thinking those things that day; it’s just where I was in my life.

Logan turned eventually and asked me if I was watching the show.

“Nope.” was my only response.

“Ok, if I change the channel then?” he asked kindly.

I hesitated for a split second before I answered, “ Ah, sure I don’t care,” the edge in my voice unmistakable. He picked up the remote, disregarding my tone, and switched on the news.

I went back to my magazine, purposely ignoring everyone who filtered in for lunch. A few minutes later, Logan spoke to me again.

“Why aren’t you eating your lunch?” he asked inquisitively.

“Because I’m not hungry!” Geez…he was annoying — like a pesky little brother. Ignoring my short, snarky response, he gave me a nod and didn’t seem to be as put off as I’d hoped.

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The questions continued, and this time he wanted to know what my opinion was on the tax increase they were discussing on TV.

I barely lifted my head but muttered something about not caring what they did. Unfortunately, it didn’t deter him, and instead of getting impatient with me, he seemed more determined.

God, was this guy some amateur shrink sent in to annoy the fuck out of me? Enough with the endless questions already, I muttered under my breath.

“Well, that’s strange, considering how much it will affect the pricing on new construction. Aren’t you in the middle of building a new home?” he said, sounding sincere.

He came across as though he was truly interested, but also a bit cocky. I looked up at him and stared; why was he interrupting my misery? Couldn’t he see I didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything!

My reply was curt. “The house is finished, so I really couldn’t give a shit, OK? Not that it’s any of your business,” I spat back.

I saw a couple of the girls at the table next to me raise their eyebrows and giggle as Logan chuckled.

Photo by Ayo Ogunseinde on Unsplash

“Gee, girl, who shit in your shreddies this morning?”

In disbelief, I looked up again. He stared right back at me and somehow saw humour in the situation. His eyes twinkled with mischief, and before I knew what was happening, I was laughing right along with him.

The sound coming from my mouth was foreign, and I actually enjoyed the last half hour of my lunch break. He asked me countless questions about building a new house and was in awe that I knew so much. He seemed genuinely impressed that I’d pulled it all together.

“Most people our age are renting and have roommates, but not you,” he said. “You go out and do what most people can’t fathom doing in their lifetime, let alone by the time they’re twenty-four.”

He had no idea that it was how I survived, a lifeline that kept my focus from my dismal existence. Not that I planned to share any of that information with him.

However, I’d never looked at my endeavours from that perspective.

There were other compliments, and I found myself enjoying his company. Lunch was over too soon, and strolling back to my desk; I rolled the last hour over in my mind.

He wasn’t a looker by any means. Not even a guy I would take a second glance at. He had a lean body, dark curly hair, and full lips, but his dark eyes were small and set deep in his face.

He took care of himself and dressed well but didn’t have the rugged good looks I was normally attracted to. He was intelligent; I knew that because of his job, but most guys I knew wouldn’t be happy in an office setting like this one, pushing papers around with a bunch of women.

He was different, he was kind, and he managed to make me laugh, so my curiosity was peaked.

I found myself looking forward to lunch the next day, and again he engaged me in lighthearted conversation. He never pried like the girls, never asked how things were at home, so it was easy to talk to him.

Instinctively, I knew that if I did share some of my secrets, he’d keep them to himself. Not that there was a chance in hell he was getting anything out of me.

As the weeks passed, we became inseparable at work, breaks and lunch were taken together, and I hadn’t laughed that much in years. I found myself craving our friendship like a drug.

He was the polar opposite of my husband, Chad.

He wasn’t obsessed with sports, rarely drank, wanted my opinion about things, and always had nice things to say. I found myself taking a little extra care getting ready in the morning and was more conscious of my drab clothing.

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One day on break, we were outside getting some much-needed fresh air when Logan casually complimented my outfit.

Startled by his comment, I shot him a dirty look without saying thank you. I took off down the sidewalk, instantly angry. He picked up his pace, trying to keep up, and asked, “Christie, what’s up?”

In a blaze of fury, I didn’t understand myself; I whirled around to face him and shouted, “just leave me alone, asshole!”

My tone was sharp and mean.

That girl I didn’t know anymore had resurfaced. Logan stopped in his tracks and asked, “What did I do?”

Well, that question blew me away, as did the very hurt look that came over his face. I couldn’t believe it. He didn’t holler or blame; he wanted to know what he’d done wrong.

Stunned, I apologized immediately, but I couldn’t explain my reaction. He pressed me for an answer out of kindness, wanting to understand.

Eventually, I managed to put a few words together that seemed to satisfy him, and we both calmed down. “I guess I’m not used to getting compliments on my looks, so I didn’t know how to take it and figured you wanted something from me.”

“Please don’t ruin our friendship . . . please,” I begged, with desperation in my voice.

“Friends complement one another, Christie; it’s normal. You’re going to tell me that your husband doesn’t tell you you’re beautiful once in a while?”

That was it; that was all he had to say. I almost drowned in my own tears. Stunned at my fierce reaction Logan stood and stared at me while I sobbed, not knowing what to do next — who would?

Photo by Emiliano Vittoriosi on Unsplash

Eventually, I heard him say in a whisper, “Christie, I’m sorry.” He dared to step a little closer and put his arm around my shoulders. The act of tenderness brought on another flood.

We stood that way for a while, and eventually, he fished a crunched-up napkin from his pocket and handed it to me. “We better get back inside before we’re late,” he said, with nothing but concern in his voice.

Pulling myself together and without another word, we both headed back toward the building and resumed our day.

It wasn’t long before we spent time off work together. A bond was forming that was bringing light into my life. I let Chad believe I was at work, and although I did feel bad about lying to him, it was easily justified with a quick trip down memory lane — screw him, I thought to myself.

It’s not as if I’m sleeping with the guy; we’re just hanging out. The day was bliss, way too short, and full of fun. I didn’t want it to end, and we found ourselves planning to do it again.

The weeks passed, and Logan and I spent more and more time together. I looked forward to every moment with him. He became a good friend, and I found myself looking for ways to include him in my weekends as well.

We carefully kept our conversation away from my home life.

He seemed to sense it wasn’t good but didn’t press me for information. There were days I felt guilty about sneaking around and lying to Chad about my whereabouts, but I justified all of it, easily . . .

I understand now that everyone passes through your life for a reason.

Logan became a catalyst in my life at a time when I was dangerously depressed. It didn’t work out long term, but he was in my life long enough to give me the courage to leave my abuser.

He lifted my spirits and showed me a new perspective on life and of myself. I’ve lived long enough to know that people pass through your life in seasons.

Logan came into mine exactly when I needed him, and I understand now that these aren’t coincidences. People come and go for reasons you can’t see until hindsight shines its bright light.

Thanks, Logan…wherever you are.

You were a good friend, and I’ll be forever grateful for the impact you had on my life.

I’m Liz, the self-empowered, red wine & coffee lovin’, personal growth fanatic behind this article. I’ve stopped shrinking into places I’ve outgrown, and I’m a fan of straight talk and practical solutions. That’s why I’m here to Empower, Educate and Entertain.