It’s funny how much your kids can show you. Some time ago, someone I was having an advisory session with told me how my son, in his free-spirited nature could help me learn how to let go of some of my rigidity and learn to have fun. I’ve always been a little too serious for my own good, having to over-think and analyze every little thing to make sure that I was making the proper decision; to avoid making mistakes or looking foolish. The worst punishment in the world was to be seen as fallible or undignified…or not knowing what to do, and so you can imagine how fun I can be! My friends make fun of me for it and I’m well known for circling the drain in my thinking.
Since the whole thing went off the rails (see the previous post), I’ve started to wake up to some things that, while I noticed them, thought were immovable parts of my personality. In order to be truly caring and empathetic, which is important to me, because I grew up with some narcissistic and extremely self-centered people around, I felt I needed to not only be there with them, but I also unconsciously took on their situation as my own. People have been telling me for years to stop taking on other people’s “stuff”. I can say that I never really knew what that meant until recently.
In the business I’m in, it’s easy to be sucked into an emotional story. I hear them all day. Some people cry, some laugh, some are angry or in disbelief, but as someone who deals with death as an occupation (and we do get a bad rap, believe me) I try very hard to be a witness to the person’s life as much as possible and to honor the survivors’ memories. It has felt more like an honor and a healing thing to do for me which is part of the reason I sought out a job in this industry. I wanted to be of help to people in a time of crisis. Anyone in this job has to find a way to cope; to separate yourself from their situation. I, however, do the opposite.
A few weeks ago there was an especially tragic case. Several members of a family passed tragically and though the survivors dealt well and were sharing some of those memories in our meeting, I found myself later that night feeling not only drained and depressed, but suicidal. I couldn’t figure out where it had suddenly come from and then it all made sense. My therapist asked me an odd question when I called him in a tizzy. He asked quite simply, “Is It yours?”
What do you mean is it mine? How could emotions I’m having be anything but mine? It perplexed me for a minute and then I finally got it. I had pout myself in his place. When you hear a story, if you have any empathy at all, you can’t help but project, but this was deeper. It was as if I was living what it felt like in an attempt to heal it FOR him instead of sitting with him. Somewhere in my wiring I was trying to take some of the pain away. It’s a noble idea, but unfortunately not only does it not actually help them, it’s hurtful to my well-being. That was one eye open.
On to the kid…
Yesterday, as usual, we were late. My son has a tendency to lollygag and take his sweet time finding his shoes and getting his stuff together while he’s pretending to be someone or somewhere else, making noises. shooting zombies, whatever. We both have overactive imaginations, so I suppose it’s to be expected. Me and my wound up personality couldn’t understand why he felt no sense of urgency. He was late! Why didn’t he hurry? Why didn’t my frantic tone make him move faster instead of, and I couldn’t believe it, slower?!
“We’re late!” I said nervously. And then it hit me. We weren’t late. HE was late. Why was I worrying about his backpack and his shoes and his homework. Those were his responsibilities; his to worry about and his consequences to deal with if he didn’t do it. I was getting all wound up in the gut as if it was me late for school. Had I calmly stated that I was simply going out the door, he probably would have hurried up.
It wasn’t happening to me.
It finally clicked. The gurus always speak about acting as if. It’s visualizing the outcome you want in your mind and pretending that it’s happened already. It’s a perpetual state of acting, really. I just realized that I did it too, just in the negative. I acted as if I was whoever was around me, took on their story and sometimes experienced it as my own. That’s what wore me down so, and that is also one of the weirdest things I’ve ever learned about myself.
What kills me about the kid, is that he is totally free. He can do all of the acting exercises I have been trying to learn lately to get myself “out of character” so I can leave this stuff at the door. He’s relaxed, he’s funny, he’s able to express himself. That kid may just teach me how to be free yet.
Tangent Off the Lifeline 