Friendship

Maya Angelou

Only equals make friends. Any other relationship is out of order.

 

There is something I've been wanting to blog about for quite a while.  When I saw this quote on facebook today, I knew it would be a great way to start.

 

I was spending time in therapy, struggling with yet another failed friendship.  I had gotten very upset with this friend and had tried to discuss it with her.  She was very resistant to any sort of perceived criticism and had quit talking to me.  I was lamenting to my therapist that I had failed once again.  As we started digging a bit deeper, I confessed that I had a string of friendships that had ended very similarly.  I began to lament about my being a trouble maker, confrontational, all the horrible things people have said about me.  My therapist gently guided me into discussing the dynamic of the relationship.  I finally cried saying that this friend thought herself to be 'better than' me.

 

The therapist smiled and started explaining a very common dynamic in people, and helped me to see my role in it.  She said that every relationship starts with some rules.  I my case, the rule was that I was less than and the other women were better than.  My low self esteem really didn't foster equal type relationships, put in all sorts of projections, and here we are.  She then went on to explain why these relationships usually fell apart.  She said that when the lesser than person started realizing that the better than person wasn't perfect, the rules of the relationship would need to adjust also.  She said usually, the 'lesser than' starts poking back "Wait a minute, you're not so perfect.  Wait a minute, I have needs, too.  Wait a minute, that hurt."

 

I learned this simple lesson:  I had a choice to make, and this time it was a conscious choice.  I could grow and learn that I am not a 'less than' person.  This would risk loosing another friendship, or I could let the friendship continue with the same set of rules.  It is rare that friendships can survive a rules change.  The next to last conversation I had with this person ended with me saying "That's ok.  I'm used to you making me feel bad."  For me, the choice became very clear.  No one, and I mean no one should be given permission to make me feel bad.  I could choose very differently, and I did.

 

So, I realized the part that I was playing.  I realized that my desire to let others be 'better than' was only sabotaging relationships.  Since I can only change myself, I started working on that.  I started believing myself to be an equal to people.  I didn't want to react with trying to be the 'better than'.  When I started spending some time with a co-worker who is a physician, I had to check myself quite often.  Yes, roles in our life were different but we are ultimately all the same.  She didn't deserve to be put on a pedestal, incapable of making mistakes.  I didn't deserve to feel less than.  So I tested my new abilities and fragile, yet growing, self esteem.  Our friendship continues to grow today.

 

What amazes me is the friendships I have maintained during this transformative time.  I honestly think they are the ones who gave me the strength to continue to grow.  Several of these friends were in a position 'above' me, so to speak.  One was a spiritual director who consciously moved our relationship into a spiritual friendship.  Another was a care provider who approached her life's work as a service to mothers.  They are both courageous women on spectacular journeys of self-reflection.  Other friendships flourished that started at playgroups and in college dorms.  I've come to value these people in a way that I would not have if I had not decided to make some changes.

 

So, I have learned that life is a Journey.  People get to learn from thier mistakes, or not.  I've made so many I'm not sure what to think about many of them.  Yet, this time, I was blessed with the chance to learn from my mistakes and change myself.  I managed to grow a little and see life from a different perspective, embracing friendships as equals.

Cold mist

I was walking outside to my new office today.  My husband's present to me was to dry-wall and fix up the upstairs of the pool house for me to use.  I remember when we first looked at this property.  I was terribly excited about having this space as mine.  Almost 5 years later, it is.
It seems that the first 20 years or so of my adulthood has been working towards something.  I worked towards college degrees, certifications.  We've worked towards paying off bills, owning new cars.  We worked towards building a house, towards a healthier marriage, towards raising kids.  It seems that this has been the story of my life.  In many ways, it was how I was raised.
When I got to the top of the outside stair case, I looked around our place in the beautiful mist that had settled shortly before sundown.  I could smell the sweet chimney smoke and listen to the ruffling of birds in the cedar tree.  For a brief moment, I just breathed in living into my now.  I was able to pause and think, I really am living the very thing I've always seemed to be working toward.
This is a sacred rest in my journey, understanding how fully blessed I am.

Blessed Assurance

This is the hymn played at church last week. I didn't remember the line in this song that causes me pause, that gives me goose bumps.
"This is my story, this is my song. Praising my Savior all the day long."

My mind went to this blog. It went to my deciding to tell my story. It helped me see that I needed to find my story. In many ways, writing and publishing a part of my life helped me to find myself. Without our stories, we are without our songs.
I spent my growing up time in families where we didn't tell many stories. If we don't talk about it, it didn't happen. I felt compelled to change that dynamic, and it has made me very vulnerable. It has also given me great insight.
I talked to Pat Conroy at a book signing. It was a brief conversation, but very intense. He had talked about writing the book about his dad and his dad's reaction. I asked him about this. It had freed him, and I remarked back to him. "It probably freed your dad, too."
I think it is terribly important that we all tell our stories, without shame and without judgement. I think this is what this song means. Telling your story can bring Blessed Assurance.
One thing that I've been struggling with for 2 years now came to a head when I look at a mistake I made. When I was asked to leave our church, I set myself as being in Exile. I did this in one last hope that I would be able to return once things settled down. I now realize this was wrong of me.
I sat in our current church last Sunday, and I realize that I am home. I am now a Methodist with brothers and sisters who fill seats beside me. I know that I am welcome and loved, and I am not looking for proof of it. For over a year, I've been sitting on the edges, in a self imposed exile. I think in some way, I was trying to punish myself. Maybe I was trying to prove something. I'm not sure. Fear of making a mistake has held me stuck in a place that I don't want to be anymore.
So, this is my story. I wonder what comes next.

Unfeeling

Tonight one of my favorite MASH episodes came on.  After watching it, I started flashing to a time that was all too similar.
In this episode, Margaret is especially hard on a new nurse for crying and getting upset.  She has no patience for any emotions, and tries to crack down on her.  The wise Colonel reminds the Major that they are in a war zone, and it takes some getting used to.  The nurse then promises Margaret that she will become as professional and 'unfeeling' as her in order to be able to stay.
Unfeeling.  It is what happens to people when they see tragedy every day.  It is what paramedics, police officers and fire fighters learn.  It is what I became after months on the streets working as a paramedic.  I could do anything without feeling.  It became a source of pride for me, especially since I was the only female on my shift.  I once carried on a joking conversation while doing CPR on a baby.  It is what we do.
Back to the episode.  It had been awhile since I had seen it, and I forgot how it had ended.  After berating the new nurse about having too many feelings, Margaret goes to the mess hall.  She had been feeding a puppy scrap food all week, and she finds out the puppy had been killed.  Fortunately, Hawkeye sees that she is upset and follows her to her tent.  She looses it an starts crying.  She says "People are dying all around me, why do I care about a little puppy?"  This line gave me goosebumps as I thought about one day I was riding one day in the ambulance.
We were riding towards Rosewood Drive, and I watched a beautiful dog get hit by a car.  The owner squats down by the dog, and we stop to help.  She's crying, and I start crying too.  We found a pick up truck, and they took the dog to the vet.  I, got back into the unit and kept sobbing.  I looked at my partner and asked him this same question.  "I watch people die all the time, why am I crying over a stupid dog?"
This incident really shook me for quite awhile.  It actually scared me to make me realize I still had feelings.  More imprtantly, I really couldn't control them.

Connectedness

A couple of years ago, I took a strengths finders quiz.  Actually, I've taken it twice now.  At the top of my list of strengths is connectedness.  I seem to be able to put things together pretty quickly:  how this affects that, why we do what we do.  That sort of stuff.  I think that I've also started to branch out into personal relationships.  I'm seeing connections with people and groups.  This is a new(ish) journey for me, and I find it fascinating.

I read in one of Scott Peck's books that our ego does a great many things that are harmful to the authentic self.  One time, he said that anything that seeks to seperate us from others is our ego.  If we are humanly, lovingly connected, our ego suffers.  So people, myself included, tend to find things to cause dis-connectedness.  If our egos are threatened enough, we find a way to justify cutting someone out of our lives.

I recently sat in a Sunday School class with a bunch of Methodists I have come to have great affection for.  The verse we were studying is was a verse that hits a real sore spot with me on many different levels.  I almost excused myself from the group so that I wouldn't cause any disturbance.  I was pretty sure I was the only person in the room that felt a certain way about it, and I wanted to run away.  I was taught at my last church, that disagreeing strongly about something could be quite dangerous.  The very, very last thing I wanted to do was cause conflict.  Besides, at this point, I can't cut this church out of my life.  I'm sorta stuck there (in a good way).

So, as my ego started flaring up over this quote or this comment, I managed to quiet it a bit.  When you can sit and listen to someone with your heart, it is easy to find common ground.  I found myself engaged in a lively conversation and was expected to return next week.  Praise God!  I ended up declaring that our simply being able to have a conversation about this subject was a MIRACLE for me!

While waiting outside after class, my ego started flaring up again.  This fear of being an outcast again still rides close to the surface for me.  For the past two years, I have tried so hard to keep a very low profile.  I don't want to offend anyone or do anything that could be perceived as causing conflict.  I've tried to remain invisible, easily dismissed or ignored.  I realize now that much of this is in service to this ego of mine. 

After all of that, I had just declared a different opinion than the others.  My mind started playing the old tapes, wondering how I could avoid any further visibility.  I was trying to find a way to dis-connect myself again to protect my ego and avoid any hurt.  As I was doing this, the class facilitator walked out and hugged me, saying that was the best class they have had yet!  Wow!  I realized that I had almost let my ego seperate me from this group of people.  These old tapes, speaking from ego, were turned around quickly.  I have started playing new tapes, ones that expect love and respect.  Ones that teach me to listen with love and respect.  I cried all the way home.

Trust

My 7 year old son had 4 teeth pulled this morning.  It was with sedation, a routine we have done 3 other times.  I have struggled with tremendous mother guilt over his dental issues.  Of course, that guilt also lead me to delay taking him to the dentist earlier.  Fortunately, after several tries, we found a dentist who just helped us get the work done, with the comfort of sedation.  The first time he was much younger and didn't really know what was going on.  This time, he knew exactly what was going to happen and I am in awe of how he handled it.
It was fairly business like with the request for skylanders to sit beside him during the procedure.  He said they have helped him before, and if wanted them close if he needed it again.  He wanted Ramon noodles when he woke up.  He was most excited about being able to eat popcorn after years of not being able to.
I watched him be so brave and wondered:  why?  He knows it will hurt, and he doesn't like the taste of the medicine.  He probably even knows I feel guilty.  So why didn't he fuss, whine or want people to feel sorry for him? 
We have never threatened our kids into submission.  We don't manipulate or cajole our kids.  We don't make fun of them or do other things that scare them into being compliant.  They certainly don't clean their rooms like I want them too.  Yet, when it really does count:  they respond.  As this boy did today, sometimes they respond quite well.
As I sat and rubbed his head, I started pondering all this.  I am the one who whines and fusses.  I've certainly looked for people to feel sorry for me.  I would most definitely resist medical or dental procedures.  He didn't learn this composure from me.  Then, he looked up at me and asked me if I was comfortable.  He said I could have his pillow so my back wouldn't hurt.  I put his head in my lap and the pillow against the wall.  This boy is so kind and considerate.  Most of all, he trusts me.  I think it is a trust based in the knowledge that I will respond to him appropriately and lovingly.  I will at least apologize I when I don't respond nicely.  I think this trust come from not manipulating or threatening him.  This trust is deep.  In many ways, it scares me because the last thing I want to do is to betray it. 
I realize that I've been working on my own trusting of others.  I trusted my spiritual directors advice, even though I thought she was wrong.  I've placed trust in a midwife, my husband and several others.  I don't trust them as a child would trust an adult, because I ultimately need to make my own decisions.  I've learned so much from my children.  They humble me with their trust and love of me.  I pray that I can honor that.

Vespers

The first time I went to the Convent for a retreat, I saw on the program that it started at Vespers.  In a panic, I called a former friend and asked her "What the hell is Vespers?!?"  It is one of the offices, sometimes referred to as Evening Prayer.  It is my favorite time at the Convent, because the language and light are so beautiful.
I sat on my couch yesterday, looking out the window, and realized that the sun was setting and the light outside was beautiful.  It brought me to Phos Hilaron:

"O gracious Light
pure brightness of the everliving God in heaven,
O Jesus Christ, holy and blessed!

Now as we come to the setting of the sun,
and our eyes behold the vesper light,
we sing your praises, O God:
Holy and Undivided Trinity.

You are worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices,
O Word of God, O Giver of Life,
and to be glorified through all the worlds."

The Saint Helena Breviary  p.123

I realize that I was joining my prayer with many others praying this Office.  It truly is a Community which spans the world and includes little 'ol me.  My connection to a group of Nuns has blessed my life beyond words, and I hope that they know this. 

I think that this holds true for everyone in the world, who looks up in the sky for a remembrance, a prayer.  I understand that at night fall of the Sabbath, Jewish people look for 3 stars.  I used to go outside at headquaters (when I worked EMS) at sundown to listen to the call to Prayer from the Muslim Mosque.  It was breathtaking and took me out of myself.  It helped me see that I am a small part of a much larger web of people.  Whatever faith, whatever life, whatever place on earth, we can all look to the sky and loose ourselves for just a moment.

"Oh God, make speed to save us.  Oh God, make hast to help us"

p. 123

Ouch!!

I recently asked a friend of mine to help me understand something about myself.  As soon as her text came through, I winced and replied with "Bite me!"  Her little bit of truth hit me and made me draw back.  After a few minutes, I continued the text conversation knowing that I had the opportunity for another freaking growth experience.  Yeah me!
My reaction with 'bite me' had me thinking a bit.  Hearing a bit of truth can cause a severe reaction.  I heard a Priest describe it this way:  If someone grabbed you by the collar and dragged you backwards knocking you down, you'd be very angry.  You might even start a fight with him until you realized that he had just saved you from walking in front of a speeding bus.  This particular teacher went on to say that he has had this happen to him (metaphorically, of course).  He said that it used to take him 2 years to get over the shock, now it only takes him 2 days.  Either way, he was able to be grateful fo the person keeping him from getting smashed.
I think I have a pretty good understanding of what he was talking about.  I've had several people love me enough to talk truth to me.  In fact, I've had a good bit of practice with it lately, and I am learning to take it better and better.  Recently, my spiritual director even told me that she 'rubbed my nose in it'.  I had a big laugh saying 'You are the only person in my life who could get away with that!'.
I read in a book one time that Truth is revealed slowly.  It gives the person time to absorb it along the way.  We are also only given the amount of truth that we are ready for.  So when we get it, we should try to be thankful, not resentful. 
I still wonder about a someone I used to know.  I shared a bit of truth with her one day, and it was seen as destructive, not helpful.  The sad part is that we had both sat through the teaching of that Priest who tried to help us understand this process.  If it was the first time she encountered this type of truth, it just might take her 2 years to get over it.  My experience with "Bite me!" helped me see how hard it can be.