…and Without Needing to Fix It
My last post ended with this:
“In 1971, I was married and pregnant with my first child. I was preoccupied with the business of trying to be a good wife and mother. In the process, I was an inattentive daughter of parents who were in deep pain and needed my care. Today, I feel remorseful and sad. I would take their pain away, grab it back from the past, if I could.”
Readers responded with comments like “It was not your fault” and “It was their life, not yours.”
This got me thinking more deeply about the difference between caring for people who are suffering and feeling that I am to blame for or responsible to fix their pain.
A Psychology Today post from quite some time ago addressed this important distinction: “It’s quite common for us to operate with the rather self-conscious notion that “it’s all about me,” so it’s very easy to blame ourselves, and much harder for us to gain a perspective on our relative responsibility. That is a sword that cuts two ways; one draws us into the palace (that is not a typo — think about it) of the ego, and the other drags us down the rabbit hole of negative self-perception. Neither path serves us.”
I was clearly not to blame for the removal of my parents from their beloved leprosy station. In fact, I had nothing to do with it.
But that doesn’t mean that I don’t weep today about the pain this caused them, and that I don’t wish with all my heart that I could grab the pain from them. It also doesn’t mean I’m not sorry I wasn’t more aware, more mindful of what they were going through at the time.
Maybe most important, the difference between caring and feeling it’s mine to fix provides an invitation for me to explore that distinction in my current significant relationships. To grow in my ability to be mindful of and caring about others’ suffering, even while being clear that I am not to blame and I am not going to try to fix it.
For me, this means learning to keep my focus on what is mine to change — my intentions, my words and my attitudes. And all the while, caring for another’s pain without making it “all about me.”
I think this may be most especially important in my intimate relationship with my husband. When I wish Ed would change certain annoying behaviors, is the responsibility his or mine to do something about them? One way to determine the answer to that question is to ask: Who suffers the consequences of his choices?
For example, I wish Ed would quit drinking Coke and eating ice cream — oh, all right, frozen yogurt, but it’s still packed with sugar. But Ed is the only one who may suffer as the result of satisfying his sweet tooth, so it’s clearly his responsibility to do (or not do) something about the behavior. Not mine.
By contrast, if Ed’s behaviors affect me — like how stubborn and argumentative he can be when we disagree about something — then it becomes my responsibility to do something about them.
Ah, but here’s the really challenging part for me: It becomes my responsibility to change what I do about his stubbornness, not what he does.
If I can learn to live in a way that honors the differences between caring and self-blame and between caring and attempts to control, my relationships with others, especially with my soulmate, will only grow stronger.
Marlena draws the challenging conclusion that when I (Ed) am being stubborn and argumentative her responsibility is to change how she reacts to that, rather than to change my stubborn, argumentative behavior. If each of us took similar personal responsibility for our own behaviors we would live in a far more peaceful and joyous world. But what a challenge, to recognize that we have something to do with the things we don’t like that are going on in our world rather than blaming it all on those we disagree with.
It is easy to fall into the trap of saying I will change as soon as they do. Until then, I can’t give up my argumentative position. However, it is quite possible that when Marlena responsibly manages what she does about my stubbornness that this leadership role on her part creates conditions under which I am are more likely to take responsibility for correcting my own behaviors.
I think developing true awareness of how our words impact others is one of our deepest lessons in our lifetime.
When I think of all the past relationship problems and frustrations and accept my role in them, how I could have done things differently, I now focus on not falling into reactive patterns. As Marlena said, is it about me? Or am I making it about me and am I micromanaging an outcome that is not mine to dictate?
It is so easy to want those in our lives to do things the way we would do them, to hold beliefs similar to our own.
Yet alas, life is full of partners, children, siblings, co workers who predictably and unpredictably will at times oppose us, challenge and frustrate us.
My goals now at this stage of life are different than when I was younger; instead of spending years ruminating over what I could have done differently and blaming myself for undesired outcomes, I work at letting go.
What a concept! Let go. Much easier said than done for someone like me who thrives in leadership roles.
However, letting go my need to control or judge others in my life allows me to no longer be responsible for others journeys. My reigning in shows them I honor and trust they are capable of handling their own situations and behaviors.
Letting go is so freeing! Such an overused term and yet it is so powerful. I’m still a work in progress and know for me….this is lifelong work. My five year old grandaughter and I love to belt out the song “Let it go” from the movie Frozen. She likes to sing it because shes proud she knows the words and is a natural born ham…true to her family of hams. I like to sing it as a mantra…as a reminder…it truly isn’t all about me.
Ah Robin, you always post such thoughtful pieces. Letting go of control. Letting go of guilt. Letting go of it being about me. How difficult for some of us. And how freeing indeed. Thank you so much for being here!