Love them as yourself?

Quote of the day:

There is a secret cry inside every heart, sometimes so deeply hidden that it may not even be audible to the person who hides it. Whether they are complete strangers or someone you think you have known all your life, if you can hear a person's secret cry then all your defenses and criticisms crumble. You become one with them and you cannot do anything other than love them as yourself. Blaugustine, May 7.

"If you can hear a person's secret cry then all your defenses and criticisms crumble. You become one with them and you cannot do anything other than love them as yourself."

For me, it isn't that I don't have the ability to hear a person's secret cry. It's just that sometimes I will not hear the cry if I am blocked with anger, denial, or my defenses are too strong. The person's secret cry could be yowling directly into my face and I will not hear it if anger and bitterness is still unresolved. I have come to the conclusion that so much of what ails me is the inability to discriminate between self and other. It's an infantile and childlike phase that keeps me trapped from moving forward into maturity and acceptance. I see the other as me and when that happens I am unable to hear anything but my own pain and bitterness. In fact, it is precisely my being as one with a person that makes me unable to see or hear their other-ness.

I believe that when I work through feelings of anger to resolution and understanding, only then might I come to the other side with forgiveness and acceptance. I seem to understand this cognitively, intellectually. However, while I am in the throes of allowing myself to finally feel the anger that I have been ashamed or frightened of, I become agitated and frustrated with myself. I start to feel shame, guilt, like I am a bad person for having those emotions in the first place, and spiral into a self-hatred-fest that helps distract me from the original anger.

Other bloggers have talked about feelings of self-hatred in different contexts so I know I am not alone with this.

These past few months I have been wrestling with rage that I have needed to face for a very long time. In fact, I have successfully avoided it in the past with long work hours, and distracted myself by misplacing it into other relationships. Years of therapy finally brought me face-to-face with it. Thanks to this forced sabbatical (which I never cease to complain about!) I have nowhere to go but to hold still where I am, right here, right now. I cry, write letters to myself, ache from migraines, take long baths, walk briskly and strenuously on the treadmill for long stretches of time, prowl like an angry tiger through the rooms at night, pour over old photographs, and sit in a slump staring into space with thoughts like "what on earth is there to live for?" for intense moments that seem like hours.

As I read Blaugustine's words this morning I realized quite clearly that all this rage keeps me tied together, trapped as one person with the source of my pain. When I separate us out we are different entities, with different styles, agendas, defense mechanisms, abilities, interests, ways of expressing ourselves, or ways of feeling pain. I am not they and they are not me. In other words, it is precisely that moment when I finally do not see the person as one with myself, that I am able to hear their cry. It is the separation of expectations, desire, need, feeling of being the other person that liberates me to forgive, understand and accept them for who they are. It is only through that type of detachment, that I will develop empathy or the compassion needed "to love them as myself."

Comments

[Richard Lawrence Cohen]

Thank you for another searingly confessional post, and for your insight into the question of detachment versus attachment. The type of psychotherapeutic separation you're struggling toward is at first glance very different from Buddhist detachment, but underneath they have similar goals: an openminded compassion for others and for ourselves. And yet we should also love others as ourselves. This is the unending balancing act that the greatest see-ers into human nature have assigned us. By sharing your painful efforts, Tamar, you inspire all of us who read you.

[Natalie]

Tamar, thank you so much for quoting me and resonating with what I felt. Biggest warmest bone-crushing hugs to you.

[nappy40]

I always hear a person's secret cry. For the last few years, I have dedicated myself to a nonjudgmental stance. I think constantly judging others and questioning their motives led me to anger. Now that I've changed my thinking, the anger is gone. I can detach myself easily because I'm more focused on self preservation now, and being honest with myself.

I remember having a conversation with two people. One was telling tall tales about himself. Things untrue but easily verifiable. I used to challenge these people and get angry because someone dared tell me lies to my face, now I don't care.

I realized that people telling tall tales about themselves, bragging about things that don't exist, or putting others down to look good, are all secretly crying. The lies and bragging may irritate me, but I can recognize it for what it is. I don't pity them, but I do hear their cry and empathize with them.

[Tamar]

Richard, your words moved me in all sorts of ways. Thank you.

Natalie, those are just the kinds of hugs I adore. So I accept! (and return in kind)

Nappy 40, that understanding and detachment sounds good for you. It is difficult to realize that so many people are secretly crying, isn't it? The saddest part for me is that it is more often than not hidden from themselves.

I guess that could be described as understanding the human condition.

[Alicia]

This post was exactly what I needed to read this morning, Tamar. I've been having trouble dealing with a situation/person that makes me angry, and your words helped me to put it in perspective. :-)

[Tamar]

Alicia, I am glad it was helpful for you. Smiles on a new day!

[Jean]

Tamar, I'm sure you will look back on this time as important and necessary and be glad that you went through it, and faced up to it, and made the effort to think it through and write it down and share it in a way that resonates with lots of us out here.

I usually feel convinced that a sabbatical is the one thing in the world that I would most like. But I also know it's not that simple and that even while I moan about the daily round it's often what saves me from myself, renews me even while it is depleting me.

Why are we so complex? I suppose on balance it is worth being complex. Sure doesn't always feel that way though.

I think you pinpoint something very important here - the delicate dance of separation and empathy, oneness and respect...

[Tamar]

Alicia, I wanted to add one more thing to my reply to you. For me, having empathy doesn't mean excusing a person's bad behavior or accepting it as appropriate. It means understanding the human condition in its complexity. For me the detachment helps me see that it's not always about me. It's someone else's hidden (even to themselves) cry or pain. And then I have a choice about what to do with the understanding.

Jean, I simply love how you say that, "the daily round ... renews me even while depleting me." That's what I truly miss about not working outside the home! But even though I complain and moan about this *wretched* "forced sabbatical" period, I am really cherishing deeply what it is doing for me. When I am back at work (and *if* I continue blogging), and start complaining about missing the sabbatical, I hope you will be there to remind me about this challenging time! Thank you for letting me know it resonates with you. That is a true gift for me.

[Richard Lawrence Cohen]

Looking back at these comments, I'm overwhelmed to realize that they're by five people whom I didn't know six months ago, and now I feel close to them all, I learn from them and to some extent depend on them -- I feel I know them in a real, meaningful way even though I've never met any of them and may never. A way of knowing people that did not exist a few years ago. The specific things you all have said make a firm impression on me, but what goes even deeper is the fact that we're all here.

[nappy40]

Richard, I agree. I think we're all very different, but have something in common.