“Everyone comes into your life for a reason.”
So sayeth one of the neighborhood divorced moms who sometimes text me to see if I’m coping all right. And it may be true, but that doesn’t mean it’s a *good* reason.
The whole concept of “reason” is value-neutral, unless you assume some well-meaning entity is sending you messages with coded life lessons, and really, what are the odds?
People move in and out of our lives regularly—some exist for us for no more than a few moments. Most are benign and have no lasting effects at all. Some stick around for years, decades, or your whole life. Those people probably have mixed effects, but hopefully (not always) a net positive. Others seem to have an outsized impact in spite of their relatively brief appearances.
Those must be the “reason” people.
They should be thought of as catalysts, I think. Whether their presence seems to result in huge benefits or in what can (perhaps euphemistically) be called creative destruction, they shook something loose that needed shaking.
Regardless, I think people should wear signs. Maybe invisible ones that you can only see when you shine a black light on their foreheads. So if you really need to know, you can check. Some signs would say, “mostly harmless.” Others would say, “ticking rage bomb.” A few might say “exactly what I appear to be,” while many would say “misrepresenting my intentions as we speak.” Don’t you think that would be helpful?
In other news, I seem to have lost the ability to cry. In spite of having lived through the emotional equivalent of blitzkrieg with a smattering of high-dose radiation at random intervals in the last few months, not one tear have I shed. That’s how I know what my forehead sign would say if you shined a black light on me.