Shootin' shit

Before I get started I want to say that no shit was actually shot...in fact no shit was harmed in any way at all. I wanted to get that out there up front in case my title offended any shit lovers who might have thought some of their beloved shit was shot...it was not; now we can move on.

Last week the wife of a mate of mine - someone I usually see regularly but have not for a little while now - sent me a message asking if I'd invite her husband out for a shoot because he is struggling with some stuff and could use a little detachment. She didn't say it like that but I don't want to say exactly how she explained it. My answer was, of course, and I sent him a message and asked if he wanted to come out for a shoot with me. He jumped at the chance and that was that.

This week we gathered our stuff and headed out to see what we could find.

After leaving my truck at a safe (won't get shot) place we ranged out on foot. I figured we'd not get much hunting done though, and had my suspicions confirmed, but I was ok with it, the chap needed a break and a reason to (maybe) open up and talk about what was on his mind.

We spent some time pretending to follow potential targets, looking for signs of their passing and following trails making a great show of actually making an effort and we were shooting the shit (again, no shit was actually shot) as we went...I mean we were talking.

Just so you know talking, or noise of any kind, isn't such a good thing when hunting so I knew we'd see nothing...and we didn't, but the hunting trip wasn't really about hunting, it was a chance for that fellow to feel he had the freedom to speak freely with me, someone he trusts. I'm not going to go into the problems he has or what was said and why, it's irrelevant, but what's really great is he saw value in opening up, in talking to someone he felt would not judge, would not have an agenda and simply listened impartially. That's what I did.

A little later, we made our way back to my truck, packed up and headed back to civilisation.

Interestingly, as soon as we left the property he clammed up, it was like he'd crossed an invisible line and had to immediately revert to being the person he thinks people expect him to be. I didn't say anything, I know why he does it.

We see many people each day or week, pass them by without any thought and move on, but I wonder how many of those people are putting on a brave face, wearing a mask to present a particular way outwardly but are dealing with inner turmoil, chaos, uncertainty, fear and other such feelings. We all have things to deal with, some greater or lesser than others and I think we're all guilty of hiding our true emotions away from other people for fear of being judged, categorised, shunned and so on. That's what my friend was afraid of and why he was hiding (mostly) behind a facade.

Have you ever felt the need to do this? Have you hidden your true feelings, put on a brave face, felt unable to open up and share the burden and felt ill-effects because of it? Have you benefitted by shooting shit (not real shit of course, I mean talking) to others who have listened and supported impartially and with empathy? Feel free to tell me about it in the comments if you'd like.