I sat restless in the corner of the classroom, in the same spot I always sit, feeling anxious to get one more class under my belt before heading home. The class is Personality Theories, taught by a very well known child and family therapist whom I both respect and look forward to the lectures. Call me neurotic, even selfish, but I try to get to class at least 15 minutes earlier than the rest of the students just so I can reserve this corner spot. I’ve talked myself into thinking I’ll learn more efficiently if I keep with the same routine, in the same corner, plopped into the same chair for 2 hours. But the truth is, I enjoy the comfort of believing I am somehow less visible there. Less vulnerable. Most days the plan works flawlessly and I escape quietly, taking in the many points and notes my professor shouts without drawing too much attention. But this past week I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease due to the topics being brought up and the truth they spoke within my own life. Last Tuesday my professor starting talking about empathy, connection, and disconnection. I froze.
The safety of my corner seat faded.
I’ve always been softhearted, naïve even to some. I take things personally and overthink more than I should. I admittedly approach situations without asking too many questions and trust too easily, well, up until 2 years ago. I think it was then that I decided I needed to stop caring so much, to stop being so naïve and toughen up. The events the led me to this quieted, silenced state of mind seem unimportant compared to the perspective I’ve gained since then. I see now this pattern that I started, turning my empathetic, weak face into a hardened version of myself was clearly a cry for help. I had counted on this new version of myself to aide me in feeling confident…less emotional.
What I didn’t count on was the disconnection I would feel with almost everyone around me. Many times throughout the last 24 months I’ve thought, “What is wrong here? Being tough should be a good thing. Having more strength than weakness, should make me more likable, more trusted, more secure.”
I was “shoulding” all over myself.
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Fast forward to me slumped into my corner seat last Tuesday, listening to my professor speak confidently, as only someone with more life experience can. She asked us the last time we felt disconnected from our family, friends, loved ones and to write it down. My words spilled out onto the pages of my notebook like oil in water; dark, messy, and completely overwhelming.
She then asked us to write down the last time we felt connected to someone, what it felt like and who it was. I wrote: Last weekend. My sister. We empathized with each-other. I felt heard. I felt loved.
My eyes gazed up off my paper, biting my lip because I didn’t want to be weak. After all, I didn’t take out loans and ride on scholarships so I could show weakness in a college, I “should” be more capable. But it was without success. My damn should’s couldn’t hide what I was feeling or cover the emotions filling my muddled mind. I softly cried and the sweet girl next to me handed me a tissue. The professor expressed her sympathy for this tough topic and continued to explain that much of our disconnection from others happens because we are unable to empathize with them, and vice versa. The result is hardness, anxiety, resentment, jealousy and fear.
The moment she spoke the words, I felt them in my soul. I knew it was truth.
This toughened Haley, the one that “should” have given me strength, had let me down and only taught me to be unavailable for others, less charitable, and more distant. I’ve been admittedly unable to empathize with those who have suffered and as a result, I’ve felt less empathy in return. Danielle LaPorte puts it perfectly by exclaiming:
Because in a world that teaches us that vulnerability is weakness, crying is “girly” or unacceptable, and feeling alone is okay, I say, I’m over it! I desperately want to be connected to the world and to the people I love because I know what disconnection feels like and it’s hardly glamorous. I want people to know what I’m feeling and why because I’ve realized when we open our hearts to the possibility that those who have hurt us, may actually be hurting themselves or when we try and see the other point, we start to empathize and we connect. It goes without saying but I’ll say it anyways,
No one. NO ONE, is sheltered from the pains of being a human being.
And yet, it is only when we truly understand or at the very least, open the door that it becomes immensely easier to pull our heads out of our asses and be soft again. I’m excited to have let my guard down in a classroom full of my peers and have felt no judgment, just empathy. It seems that through the withdrawal of toughness and with the application of tenderness, I’ve been gifted with seeing more clearly. I write truly grateful for a new perspective and acknowledge that it is something that I can now reciprocate, pulling others away from the comforts of their own corners and away from the loneliness hidden within even the toughest individuals. Better yet, I’ll let one of my favorite writers simplify my point more eloquently:
haleybee 