On Compassion

Confession: I am a perfectionist. With perfectionism comes the fear of failure. It's a vicious cycle of self-criticism, over-sensitivity and the inability to let go of what others think.  I have a particularly hard time shaking negative comments, judgements, or arguments than the average person.



On Friday evening, Rick and I took Campbell out to dinner with our friends and their daughter. We went early to a loud, family-friendly place where we've been many times. Cam wasn't a perfect angel by any means, but Rick and I took turns entertaining him, walking with him, and feeding him. I don't love eating out with my little man right now. He doesn't sit still for long, he's testing his vocal abilities, and he's just generally unhappy if he's confined for too long. So maybe we shouldn't have taken him, but we did.

At the end of our meal, as we were getting ready to leave, I was approached by a woman who verbally attacked me in a way I will never forget. Maybe because it's the first time a stranger has every talked to me that way, maybe it was the harsh words she used to describe my parenting, or maybe it was the shame and humiliation I felt as I listened to her criticize my beautiful baby. I shook and cried so hard, right there at the restaurant, that the rest of the encounter is pretty much a blur.

After a long shower, a few teary phone calls and a couple glasses of wine, I went straight to the computer to look up this particular blog entry I remember reading a long time ago about negative comments and criticism. I remember reading it because it really applied to me. One quote in particular that Kelle alluded to from Bill Cosby struck a very deep chord: ""I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody." 

Well thanks, Bill, because you nailed it on the head. I have been a people-pleaser since I can remember. It's who I am, and I've tried to embrace it, but I'm pretty sure if I keep it up, I am going to fail at everything I have worked so hard to succeed at. I know it is physically impossibly to make everyone happy. I know I can only do my best. My parents have been telling me that for decades. But for some reason, I still try. And try. To be honest, I will probably always try, and I will probably always care what others think. It's something I'm working on.

But, on Friday night, as I lay in bed unable to fall asleep, I made a promise to myself, and I expect all of you to hold me accountable. To focus only on trying to please the people I love. Am I doing my best to meet their needs? To make them feel loved? Do I try hard enough to make them happy? Because really, they are the only ones who matter. The only ones.

My point in writing all of this is not to evoke pity or comments from others telling me what a "great mom" I really am or what a "crazy nutcase" that woman is. (Trust me, I know now that this was not about me at all, instead it was about her.) I'm writing because it's therapeutic for me and because I want to remember how awful this made me feel so that I don't do the same thing to someone else. Additionally, I hope to ignite a little compassion among the rest of us. Perhaps a little more compassion would have prevented her from feeling the need to project whatever issues she's dealing with onto me. Maybe she hasn't felt compassion in a long time. Maybe a little compassion is all we really need.

So while I will continue to work on not taking strangers' opinions so personally, I hope the rest of you will help spread the compassion. We never know what someone else's situation is.

Go forth. Spread the love, friends.