I can’t sleep. In an unfamiliar location, although an awesome one, and thinking new thoughts. That combination is bound to leave me laying here pondering significant things. One thing:
Empathy. I suck at it. I can’t seem to tap into it deep enough to give those around me what they need to hear or feel or the support they need to stay encouraged. I am the worst encourager, worst motivator, worst shoulder to cry on. Basically, come to me if you want tips on how to organize a notebook, but not how to sort through the complexities, hardships and unfairness of life. I apparently don’t know how.
I have a servant’s heart. Anything you need, I’m there. Help? Absolutely. Assistance? On the double! Guidance? You got it! But care….. Ahhhhhhhh…. I see….yeeeeeeeeeah……no. And that’s when I stand helplessly in a corner and watch the ones that need support and security flail and signal an alert to others more equipped.
This makes me feel absolutely terrible.
A friend told me years ago that I would be the first person she’d seek for advice…. But the last person for nurturing. That hit me like a stack of bricks. She had just gotten out of a hideously bad relationship. Fighting all the time, on again, off again with her boyfriend, backstabbing and a heavy spoonful of mistrust. She always came to me to talk about the matters at hand. “What should I do if he….?” “Why do you think I…..”, etc. I thought that was mostly what she needed and felt good that she chose me to talk to. But when I saw her going to others to just be with, sit with and lean on, I felt like I hadn’t done my job as a friend. I felt like an honest, reliable car mechanic…. Trying my best to offer a fix for a great price, but never a gentle nurse, sitting on the side of the bed of a sick patient who was just afraid to be alone for the night.
*sigh*
I realize God gives us different talents and strengths for different roles. Every role is important. When your car breaks down, you don’t need someone to hold your hand and say it’s going to be ok. You need answers. Solutions. Tangible, practical remedies that change the current situation.
But how often in life do people need practical advice? How many more times have people just needed kind words or sympathetic smiles or warm embraces? Or even understanding silence, accepting the fact that there simply may be no words to be said? What sort of help do people remember the most and recognize as a pivotal contribution in their time of need?
For those who are familiar with the Meyers-Briggs test, I am an ISTJ. Introverted, Sensing, Thinking, Judging. I once read a description of my personality type and one thing jumped out at me:
“ISTJs are likely to be uncomfortable with expressing affection and emotion to others. However their strong sense of duty and the ability to see what needs to be done in any situation usually allows them to overcome their natural reservations, and they are usually quite supportive and caring individuals with the people that they love. Once the ISTJ realizes the emotional needs of those who are close to them, they put forth the effort to meet those needs.”
~ http://www.personalitypage.com/ISTJ.html
I don’t want my friends to think out loud to themselves… “Eh, this isn’t something I can seek Kristen out for… I need someone else.” If that’s the case, can I really call myself an open, caring, kind individual? Yes, I am these things in some regard… But how can I show tenderness and care and sympathy to those around me when I don’t have a tender soul? When I don’t possess the ability to be comfortable with vulnerability, whether mine or others’?
There’s a scene that keeps playing in my mind from about 4 years ago that I will never forget. There was an accident. A man riding a motorcycle was hit by a teenager driving a jeep. I drove by merely moments after it happened. It was at an intersection and I wanted to turn right, but there was an injured person laying on the ground and a shaken and panicked young man. I got out of my car to help. I tended to the conscious but disoriented cyclist. Covered him with blankets I happened to have in my car. Told him not to move. Called 9-1-1 and calmly explained the situation. Directed traffic. Reassured the man he was going to be ok. Asked him questions to keep him talking and checking for brain damage. Analyzed the situation to have more information for the paramedics when they arrived. And when I heard the sirens in the distance, I knew my job was coming to an end. But then, when the paramedics arrived and began theirs, my attention turned and fell on the young man crying on the side of the road. The one who was wrecked with worry and guilt that he was the cause. I hadn’t even asked his name. Or even said more to him other than “what happened?” He didn’t look a day over 17. He was a mess. I was planning to leave the scene after being cleared by the police that I wasn’t an eye witness. I walked over to him in the few moments I had before he was asked to write a statement. I asked him if he was ok. I watched him crumble to the ground and collapse in distress. I felt immensely uncomfortable and considered just turning around to go back to my car. Instead, I knelt beside him, put my arm around him and said “you’re going to be ok. You’re not a bad person.” He cried and wailed about the possibility of the motorcyclist dying. I reassured him that the cyclist was in good hands and generally good health. He would more than survive. The kid just cried and shook from adrenaline and anxiety. And I stood there and just hugged him. Didn’t know his name, who’s son he was, where he lived, or really anything about him other than the fact that he needed just as much care as the injured motorcyclist. It may have been one of the few moments in my life where I threw aside my emotional insecurity and defensive guard and allowed someone to be completely vulnerable with me. I gave no advice, I said few words. I tore down the wall of formality and “socially acceptable” and allowed someone to share their unbridled fear and trauma with me. A stranger.
I never forgot those moments. I went home that night and decompressed all the emotion that I had absorbed for the past 45 minutes and thought to myself, who am I going to tell what I just witnessed? Who can I talk to?
I remember the eeriness of the coincidence that my best friend had texted me. He asked what I was up to.
And I said “Meh, Nothing. U?”
Empathy and nurturing, I now realize, begin with the willingness to be vulnerable yourself. How can you care for others if you don’t let others care for you?
Confessions of a Vicenarian 