A few weeks ago my husband and I took our daughters to see the musical Wicked. Our seats were high up and cramped, but we managed to enjoy the first act and get some good stretches in during intermission. Sometime during the second act, my husband leaned over and complained he was feeling sick. His options for leaving would have caused an inconvenience to many, and his anxiety over feeling trapped only made him more upset.
As my husband struggled with deciding what to do, I found myself hyper aware of his every move. No longer was I enjoying the performance before me; I was instead overcome with a sense of…guilt. Guilt that I was feeling fine while he was not. Guilt that there was nothing I could do to immediately fix it. Guilt that I had bought cheap tickets and put us up in Timbuktu.
Until a voice told me: STOP.
I was feeling fine, so I ought to enjoy the show. He was a big boy and could decided for himself how to resolve his situation. We only had so many resources with which to treat ourselves to a show. Once I let those realizations wash over me, I was able to get right back into my reality and enjoy the rest of the show.
And you know what? Everything turned out just fine. My husband was fine. The world kept turning. I let go of my irrational guilt, and the world kept turning.
But this is what I do – I take on everyone’s pains. Emotional, physical, mental – I take them upon myself and suffer for their sufferings.
Oh, how Mother Teresa of me, right? Not so much. How about self-indulgent? How about narcissistic? How about a giant waste of time and energy?
For years I’ve had this same knee-jerk reaction to anything out of sorts. I somehow translate compassion into guilt, and find myself affected by needing to cradle others’ pains. As if it’s a fragile thing that if dropped, will shatter the order of things.
I am all apologies. Have you ever said, “I’m sorry” when someone tells you bad news? Maybe it’s an abbreviation of “I’m sorry this happened to you,” but for me, it’s often a real “I’m sorry,” as if I did something wrong.
I don’t know where this attitude stems from, or how it’s evolved over the years. But I do know that with my husband and kids, I’ve managed to steal a little of their own ability to endure. Motivated by my senseless guilt over trivial things, I often swoop in to spare them from discomfort or frustration. It’s made them emotionally dependent on me, and maybe on some level that gave me a sense of power and worth. But now all it gives me is a headache.
On my recent trip to New York City for BlogHer, I got a call from my husband detailing the many crises going on at home. I was tempted to let that call take me out, so to speak, and affect the rest of my weekend. Instead, I took a step back and ended the call with, “I understand things are really stressful there right now. But I’m going to have to leave it to you to resolve.”
Build an emotional shield. Let go of the guilt. Exercise a little trust. Endow someone with the tools and confidence to take care of a situation themselves. That’s my new strategy.
My guilt does not make the world go around. And the good news is, neither does yours.