|
My husband Tim and our dog Scout are a therapy dog team. At the local hospital Scout's philosophy is: "Every human deserves a visit." You get a visit if you're handcuffed to a gurney in the ER...you get a visit if you're the police officer sitting next to the person handcuffed to the gurney. You get a visit if you've got cancer...you get a visit if you are the nurse administering the chemotherapy. You get a visit if you're the person in the bed dying...you get a visit if you're the family member sitting vigil. Of course, not everyone wants a visit. When they're working, Tim stops at the door of each patient's room and says "Hello..." pauses briefly and then says, "would you like a visit from Scout the therapy dog?" Nine times out of 10, they do. When they don't they usually say "no thank you." Well, the other day, in the brief pause, between "hello" and "would you like a visit from Scout the therapy dog?" one lady simply said "goodbye" (in the same light tone of voice that Tim used...which now that I think about it, sounds like his Dad, who I wrote about a couple of weeks ago). Tim: Hello... Patient: Goodbye... He found it amusing...and refreshing (and so did I when he told me about it). She was very clear. As the saying goes, "clear is kind." Everyone knows where they stand, and there's safety in that (even if we think "gee, that was rude"). When we feel safe, we're more creative and less reactive. What stops us from being that clear? Fear. Ancient fear. And our socialization and conditioning that tells us that it's not okay to be clear and direct about what we want or don't want. Other people will think I'm rude and if I am rude that means I am bad and if I am bad that means no one will like me and if no one likes me I will end up living in a van down by the river and I will die a slow, miserable death, alone, and I will deserve it. Dramatic? From a logical standpoint, sure, but definitely not from a bodily wisdom standpoint. We might find a response like hers rude (and we're offended). We might be grateful for the clarity (even if it stings a bit). We may also admire her and think, "good for her for knowing what she wants and doesn't want." That's what healthy boundaries are: "this is okay, that is not okay" authentically expressed. Because that lady was nothing if not authentic. And that made her simple "Goodbye" clear, kind...and funny. When you're afraid to say "no" (which makes all the sense in the world), you're not being loving nor are you responding from what you value if you override your "no" and say yes. You're being afraid. I'll leave you with this from Leslie Vernick: Peace keepers stay silent to make others happy. They avoid conflict in order to keep surface calm. They call dysfunction "grace." Peace makers step into truth, confront what harms, build what is healthy, heal instead of hiding. Peace isn't passive, it's brave. I help adult daughters make peace and establish authentic, clear, kind boundaries. Schedule some time to chat with me. Much, much love, Karen |
The Shame Whispereruthor of You Are Not Your Mother: Releasing Generational Trauma & Shame and Difficult Mothers, Adult Daughters: A Guide for Separation, Liberation & Inspiration
[AITA = Am I The Asshole, which, as far as I can tell, had its genesis on Reddit in 2013 and became a place for people to post about their real-world interpersonal conflicts and receive advice and judgement from fellow redditors. Did you know that advice columns have been around since 1690?] A reporter sent out a query asking for input on this question and I wanted to share my response with you because most of us are walking around hoping that we're not the asshole. And what if there was a...
...and blame isn't universally bad or wrong, and it's something we are often shamed for. [this is a long one] Remember the conversation I had 20-ish years ago with my father-in-law, who was a soft-spoken, unassuming, wise Lutheran pastor originally from Canada? If you're new to my world, here it is (and if you know this story, there's a new twist): I was telling him about the difficult relationship I had with my mother and what I might do to make it better (i.e., have an honest conversation...
"It's hard not to be on the defensive, after a lifetime of being defensive," she said."Of COURSE you're defensive...it makes all the sense in the world that you're defensive," I replied. "I'm defensive, too.""Oh wow...why do I feel like crying with relief?" she asked."Because you've been making yourself wrong for being defensive," I answered. "Getting mad at yourself for being defensive is like getting mad at yourself for shivering when you're cold. We're biologically wired for it.""It feels...