Growing up in the Mennonite world of my childhood, I struggled. I could never quite see life in the black and white terms required.
And, as I get older (such a blessing to be allowed to grow older!) I continue to seek more of that lovely grey middle-ground.
More and more I realize there is no such thing as a broad brush approach. Each situation, each individual story, must be held sacred and grappled with on its very own terms. And within each of our individual struggles, the usual list of universal themes are played out.
I think I have learned most of this from books. Whether through novels or non-fiction; reading deeply has been my way to inhabit someone else’s life, to see the world through their eyes, to enmesh myself in the constellation of their world and see how the choices they made – whether flawed or fabulous – are a result of all that has gone before.
Anyone’s actions when viewed from outside can be judged in terms of black or white, but when viewed as an insider, with the added nuances of empathy and understanding, the picture is suddenly rounded out to include other possiblities.
For instance…
Tomorrow I will make the hour drive to go to visit my older sister. Both her legs were broken when a truck ran her over while she was sitting in her wheelchair. I’m not sure if she was in a crosswalk or what exactly happened. She has been in the hospital for three weeks. I didn’t go to see her. I can give you all sorts of Cancerland reasons, but none of them matter. She is now back at her home. I had to do some sleuthing to find out where she lives. The last time I saw my sister was at my father’s funeral at the end of May. Before that? I can’t really remember. It has probably been a few years.
Have you judged me yet?
I will only say that absenting myself from her life felt necessary.
So.
Trust me when I tell you that there is no way you could possibly know my whole story and all that has brought us to this place. No one who has judged me on my actions/inactions has been as hard on me as I have been on myself. It is a special inner-hell that cannot be explained. But I no longer defend myself. I am practising the art of simply stating it.
I live with it.
It is.
And.
I do not have to own anyone else’s opinion about me.
It is said that the truth shall set you free, so in the interests of freedom, this post is my further attempt to practise that plan. I’m finally convinced that the stories of our families do not need to be so secret. What, exactly are we so busy hiding? These are simply the stories that surround us, inform us, create us. I believe that it’s important to speak.
But mostly? Every day I learn anew that I never ever know the whole story. Not once. Not ever. Not even my own.
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”
– Shakespeare, As You Like It
Colleen, I absolutely do not judge you. Family dynamics sometimes explode and there is nothing to prevent this. Life just needs to be played out. Mennos tend to think in black and white (even though the Hutterites have started allowing some colour-you know in their fabric) and sometimes I wish I could – life would be so much easier. I enjoy your ramblings cousin.
Thanks for your comments Tina. I agree that ‘life just needs to be played out’ – though I have to say I was never much good at baseball and the number of curveballs lately is really keeping me on my toes!
I love knowing that the Hutterites are starting to add a little colour into the mix…maybe they’re starting to recognize that there is more than one way to be 🙂
Colleen-
I am SO enjoying following your blog. What I love most is that your writing voice perfectly matches your in-person voice. Some of your recent posts have been so moving & beautiful (and I of course LOVED the one about our FAM. I was guffawing out loud:)!) I am thinking of you with all of the heavy ‘stories’ you are currently navigating, and I hope our paths cross again one of these days soon!
Thanks so much for following my blog and your lovely comments, Corinne. You’re right, I feel like I’m steering my ship through some fairly dark waters these days but in-between I have some pretty wonderful moments, so it seems to balance out somehow 🙂
And yes, it was so much fun traveling with you on that ridiculous food orgy and I really hope our paths cross again soon.
Take good care…
Yes, we never have all the facts and we tend to quickly pass a judgement on other people without knowing all the facts. If I first get annoyed with others, I will make an effort to understand why they behave the way they do and resolve to accept it (with difficulty sometimes).
You have experimented it with your nephew and must have endured the hard looks of disapproval from people who did not know.
Let’s show compassion towards each other.
I’m in Catherine. Let us resolve to show compassion towards each other.
I love the Dalai Lama’s quote about this, “Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.”
Thanks Colleen. I wonder if you have heard of Stephen R. Covey “The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People” where he touches on false perceptions. He gives an example: One day he was sitting in a subway in NY, people were quiet, reading their newspapers etc… when a man came with very unruly children, yelling back and forth, throwing things and generally making a nonsense of themselves. It was very disturbing and difficult not to feel irritated. The man did nothing. Finally the author turned to him and asked him why he was not taking responsibility for his children. And he answered: “I guess I should do something but their mother had died about an hour ago”. The author’s paradigm shifted. He saw, thought, felt and behaved differently. His irritation had vanished and feelings of sympathy and compassion flowed freely.
Good illustration Catherine. I read that book long ago but don’t remember that scene.
I have a similar story. Years ago, I met a woman who told me that she would take her toddler son with her grocery shopping as she had no one to help her. Like he had done for most of her wide-awake night, he would randomly scream. People would glare at her. No one ever offered assistance. What all those people didn’t realize was that he was born with a condition that deprived the right amount of oxygen to his brain. Those screams of his were no more controllable than the weather.
I had the same thing happen to me when we first became foster parents to my nephew. I received looks that would kill, all because of some of his behaviour. These were battles that were not important in the much larger scheme of things. That experience taught me that we never have all the facts. Never.
My everyday goal is to find the compassion, whether I have all the story or not. It’s hard, and I’m nowhere near attaining it, but I believe it’s something that I might learn with a lifetime of practise.
I was thinking of you today and felt your pain. My sister and I went for several years without speaking but made up when she moved to Vancouver. However, it was an uneasy alliance and we were not on speaking terms the year before she died.
One day I hit the speed dial by mistake and she answered. She’d just been diagnosed with a very poor prognosis for double breast cancer. Before she went into palliative care, she told me not to tell any of the relatives because she was already in too much pain.
I was at her bedside the day before she died. Since she was in lot of pain with her eyes closed, I didn’t speak and hoped she would feel comfort knowing I was there. When I stepped out to feed the parking meter, I came back to overhear her telling the doctor about her horrible sister who just showed up to annoy her, left without saying goodbye and even refused to notify her relatives that she was in the hospital. She said she’d rather choke than eat the crappy licorice (it was her favourite) and asked the doctor to throw out the flowers I brought.
When I entered the room, she glowered at me and said “You know I’m dying, don’t you?” I said, “Yes, I’m sorry, so I’ll let you go in peace.”
The doc very kindly explained that she didn’t know what she was saying, but she knew — she just wanted me to feel her pain. The truth did not set me free and there was nothing I could say to make it better.
Hope you have better luck with your sister. How is she doing?
Oh Martha. That is such a hard story.
I’ve never liked the expression ‘misery loves company’. It feels kind of churlish and brutal. But the essential truthiness of it resonates for me.
Your story, Catherine’s story about her sister, and other stories I know like this, give me comfort somehow. By hearing of the sad horribleness of what you went through I feel less alone.
It is the same reason I find comfort in books…when I read and come upon experiences that I had previously thought were my personal pains alone, I feel better.
In sharing our stories there is a certain freedom to realize we’re not as alone as we thought; that we are all doing our best to get through each day of our lives.
I know you don’t feel set free by this but you just gave me a huge insight into my sister when you wrote, ‘she just wanted me to feel her pain.’
That is it exactly. She tries to offload very real physical and emotional pain onto me. My job is to love myself enough so that I do not accept it as mine. I can be compassionate but not enmeshed. By telling our stories, I think we get one step closer to realizing how crazymaking it all is. Speaking diminishes the power it otherwise holds.
And I’d like to point something else that stood out in your story; you were kind and compassionate where so many wouldn’t have been. That is a truth to hold onto…you were kind.
We must always strive to be kind.
i love reading your blogs. good luck with your sister.
Thanks so much Mary Lynne.
I went for the visit today, came home, felt like I’d been squashed and flattened by a mighty hand, cried on the couch, slept and got up and made dinner and had a lovely conversation with my husband.
Life is good, even when it’s not exactly perfect…
too bad it had to be that way. think of you often
I love this “I do not have to own anyone else’s opinion about me.” Isn’t that the truth. Survival, baby. We do what we need to do. Walk in our own shoes because they are the ones that fit the best. How could we walk in another’s? The weight of our experiences mold the shoes so that we are the only ones they fit. Love this post. And thank you for reminding me that it’s okay to do what we do. We all have our stories.
Oh my Gwen…don’t we all have our stories? I love your idea of how ‘our experiences mold the shoes so that we are the only ones they fit.’ Perfectly said. It really is down to survival isn’t?
Mental, physical, emotional, spiritual survival and hopefully even more than that. So we’re not just surviving, but dealing with our ‘stuff’ so that we’re thriving.
That is my goal; to feel what I need to feel and then keep going in a healthy and sustainable way. It’s a fine goal, eh? And might even be quasi-possible 🙂
Indeed, all the world’s a stage and we are all playing roles, behaving in a way that’s expected of us, conforming, in order to “fit in”.
I have a sister who is 4 years older than me. We’ve never got on but she has always been a responsible sister towards me and as all youngsters I used to tease her. Now I never see her, though I have a house not far from her in France. She has utterly “cut off” with her family. For a time this bothered me, I felt that I could have been nicer in our adult life (I often acted wrongly towards her) but now I have “buried ” her and forgotten her. She’ll do as she pleases, spending the rest of her life alone and probably dying alone. This is not my responsibility.
As you say “you don’t own anyone else’s opinion”. It is a sad state of affairs not to get along with your sister but like you I am stating a fact. This is how it is.
Oh Catherine. Your story is heartbreaking. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Isn’t it all so strange that we all came from the same family? I know that so many of these things are ‘simply the way they are’ but it doesn’t make it any less of a loss.
Wish we could share a hug…
Relations, family and otherwise, are complicated. Your honesty touches me. Thank you for writing so eloquently what we often “think”.
Sophie, I don’t always set out to be quite so ‘honest’, but then when the words start piling up on the screen and my heart beats faster, & I figure that must be the vein I need to tap.
It’s a strange process mixed with relief, fear and dread but made so much easier when I get a lovely comment like yours. Thank you.
..Your depth moves me to tears…
Bless you Dee Dee. We all carry so many stories.