I grew up in a family where our “bad” emotions (jealousy, anger, rage) were not validated. My parents weren’t unkind people, but true empathy was not their forte. We were a highly emotional bunch of kids, and we were told, sometimes gently and sometimes not so gently, to brush it off, stop crying, don’t be so dramatic, smile and be nice. I think they truly believed that was the best way to handle negative emotions. As a highly sensitive child who struggled with a lot of fears, bouts of melancholy, and anxious feelings, I never felt fully understood or free to express myself.
I became a parent and stumbled upon Janet Lansbury’s writings about respecting babies and children. She suggests staying unruffled during the craziest of tantrums, and acknowledging and validating the ugliest of emotions. This seemed radical to me, but I tried it. Instead of my go-to strategies of distraction or just shooing away the feelings (“You’re ok! No more tears!”), I really leaned into them. I said the feelings aloud and made them even more real. “You are sad that I had another baby. It makes you angry and makes you want to head butt your brother. I understand you are sad and mad, but I will not let you hurt him.”
Empathy and validation absolutely works with my kids. They simmer down quickly and seem to have good emotional intelligence for being so young. There are few grudges, little anger bubbling underneath the surface. Best of all, we’re on the same team. But it took a lot of getting used to for me. In fact, such radical empathy felt scary. To not contradict, correct or ignore negative emotions seems indulgent, too loose. Shouldn’t we stand our ground as parents? Shouldn’t we re-train a child’s emotions? Isn’t that our job? As a Christian, old testament verses are sometimes thrown around as proof that we need to spank, punish, and control. Yikes.
Here’s the thing. I think about how I like to be comforted. Does it really help for someone to tell you your feelings are wrong, immature, and you just need to get over it? To give you lectures or advice that you’re just not ready to hear? Do you like being ignored or banished when you are having your adult tantrums (and we all have them, right?) No. We just need someone to say, “You sound really upset. I’m so sorry you are having such a hard time. I’m here for you.” How healing are those words? The older I get, the more tragedies I’ve experienced (suicide of my dad, miscarriage, family discord, etc.) the more I realize that’s ALL you can say most of the time. There are just no other words. Please don’t try to rationalize or punish me in my sadness and grief because you will get nowhere.
I have a loved one who suffers from a severe mental illness. During flare-ups, this person’s thoughts and emotions are in another galaxy. In the past, I have tried to convince, contradict, correct, distract. All the things we try with tantruming kids. But like tantruming kids, my loved on is not in a frame of mind to hear my great reasons and arguments. Rather than convince this person to get help and get back on meds, I pushed the person away even more. I became someone not to be trusted. How very sad.
The book I am not sick, I don’t need help! by Xavier Amador reminded me so much of Janet Lansbury’s strategy, but applied toward those struggling with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. The book argues that poor insight into their own symptoms is a symptom of the mental illness itself. This means that a schizophrenic or bipolar person is not just being irrational or stubborn when they say they are not sick, don’t need meds, or suggest something crazy like aliens are speaking to them through a blink 182 song on the radio (I’ve heard it.) They truly believe this, and there’s no way to convince them otherwise. It’s wasted breath, not to counter-productive.
Next time I get to talk to my loved one, and I hope to cross his/her path soon, I will stop saying “You need help. You have to get back on your meds. You are just paranoid. Your plan is not going to work.” Instead I will say, “Tell me if I’m hearing you right. You don’t want to take meds because they make you feel terrible and you don’t think you need them. You don’t want to stay in your apartment because you think someone is after you. It must be scary to be in your position right now. Nobody likes to feel followed. I’m here for you. I love you.” And then I’ll wait- weeks, months maybe, until my loved one is ready to hear me and my wise suggestions for his/her life. (Of course, if someone is a harm to himself or others, it’s important to step in and force help. But this should be the last resort.)
So radical empathy isn’t just for tantruming kids. Or grieving adults. Or schizophrenic loved ones. It’s for every single person. Let’s not be afraid of radical empathy. It will make the world a kinder and more emotionally intelligent place.