Thursday, April 17, 2008

Empathy

It’s interesting, TDO rarely (almost never) outright criticizes me, except when we’re in a heated fight.  However, last night (apparently out of nowhere) he says, “You know what your problem is?”

Now, I don’t know about you, but any conversation that starts out that way definitely comes across as fightin’ words.  I mean, I know what my problem is, bucko, it’s YOU.  Wait, no, that’s just me being defensive.  So I braced myself and smiled.  “No.  DO tell me.  What is my problem?” I asked, my voice dripping with a sarcastic flourish that said, “Go ahead. Make my day.”

His response, rather than antagonistic, was actually rather thoughtful.  “You let what other people think and feel get to you too much.”

Aaah, and there it is.  Truth at its finest.

It’s a double edged sword and one that I wield with messy consequences.  It’s true, I am constantly trying to get inside other people’s heads, to try to understand why they do the things they do and how they feel about the world around them - and me, in particular - and whether or not the world is what I think it is.  And why?  Why do I do this?

You see, growing up with my mom, well, my family in general, but especially my mom, I had to be empathetic.  I had to know if my mom was irritable or angry or flustered or tired or excited or eager.  I had to know if she wanted me to comfort her or if she wanted me to leave her alone.  The key being, I had to figure this out on my own without any substantial cues from her.  She would not say, “Please go play outside, guys, I just cleaned and I don’t want you guys messing up my floor.” We had to decide on our own whether or not it was safe to be around her or if she’d fly off the handle because we were too loud, too messy, too child-like in our actions.  (Heaven forbid.) What was perfectly acceptable behavior for three weeks solid would suddenly piss her off to the point of rage.  What was all but a sin would be something she’d openly invite us to do with her out of the blue - only to become all but a sin the next day. 

My mom was not the type of person to say, “I need a hug,” or “I’m feeling cranky so I’d rather not go shopping today, let’s postpone until tomorrow.” No, she’d trudge ahead and keep going until she’d have a total meltdown.  Sometimes that meltdown would include screaming or crying.  Sometimes she’d pout.  Sometimes she’d lock herself in her bedroom and throw guilt inspiring speeches at us through the door.  On several occasions, my mom literally left home for days at a time.  It was clear to me that either I had to learn to be psychic and not only guestimate my mom’s moods, but also anticipate what would happen next, or else she’d leave me forever, just like my biodad did.

It’s really a hard habit to break and one that requires complex guess work and reading of cues that may not even really be there.  In the end, a lot of the time (especially with “healthy” people) I end up guessing wrong or reading waaaaay too much into something.  If someone doesn’t call me back, clearly they are angry with me and I must then spend the next several hours, days, weeks reconstructing the past interactions with that person to establish what I clearly did wrong.  I have often called friends and left frantic sobbing messages on their answering machines along the lines of, “Please, please, please call me back!  I’m so sorry I made that joke about your cat being dumb!  I didn’t mean it!  Your cat is the smartest I’ve EVER known and I love him like I love my own children!” Only to have friends call back with, “What the hell are you blathering on about?  We were just out of town.  Remember?  I told you we were going to my aunt’s last month.  Oh, and Spots is dumb.  I’ve always had an affinity for retards, why do you think I married John?”

Oh.

Well, then.  Right.  Moving along.

To be honest, my attempts at empathy often are exercises in good, as they leave me an insight into other people I might not otherwise have.  When I’m accurate in my readings, I can be more sensitive to other people, and in a “best case scenario” I can help another person be comfortable or happy in a situation in which they might not otherwise have been.  It helps to “walk a mile in someone else’s shoes” - at least through the process of empathy.  I can’t necessarily BE someone else, but it does help me to imagine what it would be like, to try to understand the trials and tribulations, the hurts and hope that another might be going through. 

In the end, though, my own perspective and views will taint that empathy.  I will still imagine what I would feel like if I were going through that, not what that person would feel like, since I can’t honestly know what another person’s actions or reactions would be.  Maybe that’s for the best.  Who would want to think like a corrupt and evil monster?

In Other Years:

General Update (2004)

First, let me just say I’m sick of computers and technology in general.  My computer is dead… YET AGAIN.  I…[Read More]

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