I’m Wrong, You’re Wrong
“Finally, we begin to see that all people, including ourselves, are to some extent emotionally ill as well as frequently wrong, and then we approach true tolerance and see what real love for our fellows actually means. It will become more and more evident as we go forward that it is pointless to become angry, or to get hurt by people who, like us, are suffering from the pains of growing up”.–Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions
It’s human to be wrong. We’re all wrong at one time or another. And we’re likely wrong much more often than we know we are able to admit.
About a week ago, I had just blogged about my own experience as a child, specifically as an 18-month old https://pamelacapone.com/2018/06/voices-missing-debate/ I then walked into the kitchen to make dinner and flipped on the tiny TV on top of the fridge. Colleen Kraft, president of the American Academy of Pediatrics was being interviewed regarding her experience visiting some of the border detention centers. She said she had been in a room full of toddlers (who had been recently separated from parents) and what she noticed was unexpected: an eerie quiet, save for one little girl. An 18-month old who was crying incessantly. She was inconsolable.
Standing at the kitchen counter chopping vegetables, I did a big heart gulp. I identified.
Since the news hit hard two weeks or so ago, I have heard professional medical/psychological opinions about the long term effects of separating a toddler from their parents–things like poor school performance, addiction, debilitating problems with attachment, etc. I’ve heard and seen heartbreakingly long, bullet pointed lists of what can happen when children have this trauma.
I’ve been told by professionals that I’m a miracle, based on how well I’ve done in my life. That’s not meant as a brag. I didn’t do it. Hence, “miracle.”
I do know one long-term effect for me as a result of my childhood. I feel things deeply. I can’t tell you how many times I have been told, I’m “too sensitive.”
Great, thanks.
Recently, I’ve gotten into the topic of politics online way more than I ever have before, and I’m not what you’d call a political person. I’ve probably lost some Facebook friends (and regular friends) because of my choice to voice my opinion. I’m pretty okay with that. It’s not exactly “Bye, Felicia” (aka good riddance) for me but I don’t feel quite as rattled now if someone doesn’t like me. This is progress.
This morning, the passage at the top of this post was brought to my attention. It occurred to me that this might just be a key ingredient—maybe a path to humility, understanding, empathy, and connection for all of us. We are all effected by our experience as 18-month olds, regardless of what the 18-month old you looked like. I was shaped by my experiences, differently, but just as you were. I became more sensitive to things that maybe you are not sensitive to. You are maybe sensitive to things I am not sensitive to. You have different triggers that I can’t possibly know.
I think operating with an awareness of that can help us get to empathy.
I don’t know everything. And what I think I know? I could be wrong. You could, too.
I had posted a Brene Brown animation on empathy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Evwgu369Jw a few days ago and got into an online conversation with someone about the way people offer comfort when something sad or bad has happened. He shared his own experience expressing how “I’m sorry” sounds to him: It’s a trigger. I’m guessing something he identifies with personally.
I actually thought “I’m sorry” wasn’t the worst offender and I asked him to tell me more. I told him my concern that if we get too nit-picky, then people might feel paranoid about showing up at all, having to say “just the right thing” and just avoid the hurting person altogether, which isn’t the goal.
It’s anything but comforting; it’s sympathy rather than empathy, I heard him express to me. I asked him to offer some alternatives to “I’m sorry.” Here’s a list of what he’d found online:
“I see you.”
“I understand that you are in deep grief and loss.”
“I affirm the pain and discomfort and I know/believe it is real.”
“I hear you.”
“You are not alone.”
“If I see anything I can do to help you, I am just going to do it for you. I hope that’s okay.”
“You are loved and worthy.”
“If you need a listening ear, someone to hold space for you without judgment, I will do my best to show up for you.”
I think I was wrong about “I’m sorry.” I was open to hearing his suggestions and honestly, I feel a little more equipped. I have something else in my empathy tool box. We can’t possibly know every person’s trigger, but we can educate ourselves on some baseline ideas. Google that stuff.
Most of us are not fans of being wrong. If you’re old enough, you might remember how Fonzie used to say the word “wrong” in context of admitting his wrong. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WkqgDoo_eZE
If you’re a student of Dale Carnegie (How to Win Friends and Influence People) you might agree that, generally, people don’t like to be told they’re wrong. I believe that’s true, but I think if we all get a little comfier with accepting we’re all wrong more often than we think, it takes the sting out of it. It’s really not the end of the world to be wrong about something. If it hurts to find out we’re wrong, these are growing pains that produce strength and build connection to our fellows, getting to real love.
We may not know exactly what someone is feeling or expressing but if we can try and tap into something close within ourselves that we can identify with and not be so worried with being wrong, there’s everything right with that.