A Shared Story: Unveiling the Threads of Connection

Note: this one has been sitting in my drafts folder for nearly 5 years now… for some reason I felt called to finally finish it! Enjoy!

“Now, tell me, why would a lady like you need therapy?”

That’s what the man — a seemingly random stranger — asked me one hot Saturday afternoon. It seemed like an innocuous question at first, almost intrusive, coming from someone who I assumed had an agenda. Was it the start of a pitch for money, a fabricated cause I’d be guilted into supporting? If so, my response would’ve been automatic: a tight smirk, a polite but firm “No thanks,” followed by a silent, but scornful get off my doorstep.

But maybe, just maybe, this man wasn’t so random after all. Maybe the question he posed wasn’t random either. Maybe it was a mirror — a challenge to explore the assumptions I’d made, about him, about myself, about life. It forced me to reconsider how often I reduced people, including myself, to labels and categories. Wasn’t there more beneath the surface?

Let me take you back to the beginning.

The Encounter

It was a blistering day in Houston. The air felt thick, and my apartment seemed to close in on me. I was procrastinating on a painting, so I decided to sit outside, thinking the change in scenery might help me focus. I needed a push, but I wasn’t sure what would provide it.

A few minutes into my attempt at productivity, I saw a man walking toward me. Clipboard in hand, drenched in sweat, clearly out of place in my apartment complex. My first instinct was to dismiss him — probably just another door-to-door pitch, and I wasn’t in the mood. But something uncharacteristic happened. Instead of brushing him off, I invited him to sit at my patio table.

Why did I do that? Was it curiosity? A subconscious way to procrastinate further? Or was it something more? Something deep inside me, a tugging toward connection, a push to be more open than usual.

We sat there, two strangers, sweating under the oppressive Houston sun. I offered him bottled water and an orange, and he gratefully accepted. After taking a drink, he broke the ice:

“Are you an artist?”

I laughed and replied, “Aren’t we all?” Then, more seriously, I added, “No, not really. This is just my therapy.”

And then came the question.

The Question

“Now, tell me, why would a lady like you need therapy?”

Not long ago, I would’ve been offended by his words. The implication that I, based on my appearance or circumstances, couldn’t possibly need therapy would’ve triggered a defensive reaction. I might’ve snapped back with a cynical remark, dismissing his perception of me. But this time, I felt an unusual calm. Instead of reacting, I let the question settle, reflecting on it for a moment. Why did he ask me that? What was he really trying to say?

I smiled, looked him in the eye, and replied, “A lady like me, huh? Well, tell me — what’s your story?”

The Shared Humanity

He hesitated, and then he launched into his tale — a story of hardship, mistakes, and dreams deferred. He was hoping I’d support him, donate to his cause. But as I listened, I realized something: his story wasn’t so different from mine.

Yes, his journey was unique in its details — his challenges, his background, his choices — but the emotional core felt the same. His story was not simply about the external circumstances. It was about pain, about resilience, about the search for purpose, something that echoed in my own life. And that realization made me see something more profound: despite our differences, beneath the surface, there were universal experiences connecting us.

We often believe our lives are unique, defined by our individual paths. But when we peel back the layers — our age, race, education, income, past decisions — we find that the essence of our struggles is strikingly similar. We all hurt. We all long for connection. We all want meaning. And in that desire, we are united, not divided.

This is where the real conversation happened — not in comparing life experiences or seeing each other’s differences, but in recognizing the shared struggles that bind us all. It wasn’t about identifying who was right or wrong, better or worse — it was about the mutual humanity we both carried.

Breaking the Cycle

Two days later, the man returned to my apartment complex, but things didn’t go as expected. A neighbor, seeing him again, confronted him aggressively, accusing him of trespassing, of threatening to call the police. At first, I stayed out of it. But when the neighbor falsely claimed that the man was harassing me, I knew I had to step in.

“This man is my guest,” I told my neighbor, “He’s not threatening anyone.”

Both men looked at me in surprise — my neighbor, angry and confused, and the man, seemingly caught between gratitude and frustration. The tension between them escalated, their voices rising. It was then that I saw the pattern forming: victim, rescuer, perpetrator. And I realized that if I wanted to break this cycle, I couldn’t play any of those roles.

Instead, I chose to offer a deeper approach: truth and compassion. I asked my neighbor why he felt threatened. I asked the man if he could understand where the neighbor was coming from. I encouraged them both to look beyond the surface, to question the assumptions they’d made about each other.

And then, I stepped back.

The Bigger Picture

In the end, I don’t know what resolution they reached. What I do know is this: something shifted in that moment. I realized that judgment and separation only perpetuate the cycle of pain and division. It’s when we step into the space of understanding, empathy, and love that healing can happen — not just for one person, but for everyone involved.

I also realized something bigger: we are not as separate as we often think. Our lives, with all their complexity and uniqueness, are still connected by shared experiences of joy, pain, growth, and love. When we allow ourselves to truly see the common threads — when we stop reducing each other to labels — we create room for a richer understanding of what it means to be human.

The Real Answer

So why would a lady like me need therapy?

Because therapy isn’t just about fixing something broken. It’s about understanding the intricacies of being human. It’s about acknowledging the unique struggles we each face, while also embracing the commonalities that bind us together. I am learning to rewrite my story — not as a tale of isolation or pain, but as a story of connection and shared healing.

And in the process, I’m discovering that the greatest healing comes not from finding the answers to life’s questions, but from understanding that we are all part of the same story. That, despite our individuality, we are all connected by the very humanity that makes us whole.