Tag: relationships

Season’s Greetings

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I’ve never been a Christmas card writer. It smells of a forced “have to” that I balk at, but sometimes the mood to share what is good strikes anyway. I’ve tried to make a consistent habit of a Friday invitation to reflection of what is good both for myself and others. I think it’s a habit worthy of continuing. Maybe an annual reflection isn’t so bad either. Often, it can come across as a brag, humble or no, and can be off-putting. I hope to circumvent that, but we will see…

What a difference a year makes. Truly. Last year at this time I was sad, angry, overwrought, in no way wanting to be cheerful or celebratory. It got colder sooner. And I waited to start my full-spectrum lamp. Lots of things conspired against me while my own mood and attitude were conspiring against myself. It’s funny how those negative feedback spirals can build on themselves and grow momentum. But in like manner, positive feedback loops can also build momentum and grow.

This past year I struggled to understand some health issues and then got resolution. What a relief. 100 days of art, doing small watercolor paintings before breakfast, was absolute medicine. Creating a floral mural on my bedroom wall taught me that a. I can do home projects and b. I can do hard work to give my future self a gift. Believe me when I say this bright, cheerful garden in the middle of winter is doing exactly what I had hoped. My garden, Mill Creek, time with friends and family, have given much-needed solace, too. My 30th high school class reunion met up in Athens, Ohio this summer. Did we all get Covid afterward? Yes. Was that kind of the pits? Also, yes. Was it an amazing gift to be with people I love and am learning to love? Resoundingly, yes!

While there has been heartbreaking loss, which always seems to be the way in this life, those losses also remind me of how precious our time together is and how lucky we are for that time. I miss my Aunt Daisy every day–she made me laugh so much. I miss my Uncle Bob’s humor and charm. I miss my Seamus-kitty who was such a loving, community ambassador. There’s no end to hurt, truly, but it is always intermingled with love and gratitude.

I am typing with a brand new kitten napping next to me-my little Luna-berry Malcador Lubbers. Yesterday, I made peppermint patties with my cousin’s youngest son. Today, my kiddo finishes up her first term in graduate school. I am over-the-moon proud of her hard work and diligence and know her Dad would be in the same boat. Next week, I will host my annual sugar cookie extravaganza. And for the past few months, I have had the honor and privilege of welcoming a couple of nephews to stay at my home. Life is hard and rich and amazing and hilarious and heartbreaking and so beautiful. To quote the late, great Bryan Lubbers, “I am the luckiest son-of-a-bitch who ever lived (sorry, Mom).”

Empathy

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Background—When I was little, my mama wanted to make sure I had a mind and heart attuned to others. I can remember more than once when I would come home from school complaining of this mean girl or that awful boy. She would stop me and have me consider the why, the possible hurt, the background story. Of course, I was initially very put off by her lack of immediate side-taking, mine, that is. But this was her legacy to me. Think of others. Think of their feelings. It also is no coincidence that as a child of divorce, I developed a finely tuned toolkit to read the emotional temperature of a room and its people. One was a loving gift, the other, I suspect, is a trauma response. Good, bad, or otherwise, my superpower is empathy.  

Upside—When good things happen to other people, I feel it. Call it convergence or mudita, either one, but the effect is one of delight and joy. That’s the very best part of empathy. Having the capacity to feel the not so joyous things has its merits too because this allows for compassion, understanding, grace. If I can pause for a moment to put myself in someone else’s shoes, understanding increases. From there, dialogue, possibly resolution occurs. All good things. And bare minimum, if I can pause in my day to remember everyone has their hurts, hopes, histories, maybe I’ll be a little more patient at the grocery store, curse a little less in traffic. That’s the hope, at least.

Downside—Yet, the emotional weight can be debilitating and sometimes I take responsibility for feelings inappropriately. Just because I feel them, doesn’t make them mine or something I have to do something about. I forget this. Recently a friend posted a little video blurb that sort of felt like I was being called out. Nuggets of wisdom, when they show up like that, can have that effect. The video highlighted the concept of “ruinous empathy.” With this unhealthy form, a person with empathy makes allowances and excuses for the behaviors of someone else. Ruinous empathy will break down important personal, boundaries. “Oh no, so-and-so, is suffering/experiencing pain, these hurtful, negative behaviors that I would never in a million years tolerate suddenly have gotten a pass because I am (ruinously) empathetic.” This unhealthy manifestation of empathy is mine to own and battle, too.

Conclusion—I want to be the person my mom envisioned—thinking of others and extending grace. I’ve got a LONG way to go. And just like a game of whack-a-mole, I’m going to have to  pay close attention to when ruinous empathy creeps up and has me eroding my own boundaries. “Constant vigilance.”