Sometimes I feel like I’m making no progress at all in my emotional and spiritual growth. And social media doesn’t help matters, does it? I put a lot of effort into staying centered, staying calm, happy and loving. I feel like I need to put myself in a bubble right now to protect myself from the stress of the news I am bombarded with every time I see a screen of any sort.
I can barely look at my Facebook feed because the political climate is so contentious and loaded. I love people on both sides of the issues, but I only see feeds from about twenty people right now because I chose to temporarily hide everyone who posts political stuff. Now I see cute Panda bear videos and little kitties getting spa treatments and pretty sunsets and beautiful grandchildren. When my Dad offered an unsolicited political opinion about my husband’s political film project on my sister’s Facebook page yesterday, she texted a screenshot to me, adding, “He’s at it again!”
I called Heather right away, finding her in the midst of an animated conversation with our other sister, Stacy, both of them trying to figure out how to respond to his comment, coming up with things they’d love to say, things they wished they could say, things they thought they’d better not say.
“I mean, for real, what makes him think he can get away with saying stuff like this?” Stacy asked. “‘Right wing, conservative propaganda’?”
“Did he know the review you posted was about Nick’s film?” I asked Heather.
“Yes! He says he has a right to his opinion. But he hasn’t even seen it!”
“Omg, Nick poured his heart and soul into that project for six months. And he worked hard to make it non-partisan. And Dad sits there doling out judgments from his armchair?
I was immediately, as we say in the Compassionate Communication world, triggered. In a hormonal battle between Fight or Flight, my body always chooses Fight. I was irate. I scrambled around in my mind trying to decide what to say. I jumped into the fray with my sisters, fantasizing about the comebacks we should employ. I guess you could say childhood wounds were touched because I no longer felt like an adult. I felt like the vulnerable little girl who needed to protect herself from criticism and attack. When I actually was that little girl, I invented a persona to protect her, a tough girl who showed no weakness or fear, one that stayed on the defensive and never allowed herself to be hurt, one that hurt back should an arrow ever penetrate her armor. She needed to survive. It appears that she still lives in the shadows, ready to do battle.
I never considered saying nothing. Keeping silent felt like condoning the behavior, like I didn’t have my husband’s back when he was under attack. The adult part of me that studies and prays and reads and practices compassion was nowhere to be found. I reacted, I counter attacked, parrying with my own nastiness, adding fuel to the fire while blaming others for setting it. I texted my husband and told him what happened and he joined in the Facebook showdown, taking it to the next level. I took a shower, trying to soothe myself, trying to slow the pounding of my heart, trying to prevent my thumbs from shooting off another text.
Luckily, Amy (my Life Coach friend) arrived for a work session. When she set her computer bag on the table and asked me what I’d been up to, I told her, “Fighting,” and recounted the events of the last hour.
“Why are you doing that?” she asked, “Don’t do that, it’s too painful.”
She was right, it took hours for the adrenaline and cortisol to clear out of my system. I was upset the whole evening and I tossed and turned all night while my mind bounced back and forth between wishing I had not responded to a dozen cutting comments I should have posted. Simultaneously, I was berating myself for such a stupid and useless reaction, telling myself I know better. I’ve been thrown into rages like this over and over and over again, and it never changes anything, it only makes me miserable. I thought I had forgiven and healed that small, vulnerable center of myself.
So at 2 am, I did what I always do when I find myself in this state. I prayed furiously for peace and clarity and a loving heart. I repeated the serenity prayer in a loop. I scoured my brain for any shred of wisdom or advice I’d ever heard. I tried deep breathing. When I finally got my mind to quiet a little, Russell’s words came to me. Though Russell, my sponsor/mentor/coach passed away almost three years ago, the lessons he taught me live on. I must have been asking him why I continued to over-react when I intended to be serene.
“It’s not about never getting triggered or being out of the moment, but how quickly you can get back in the moment.”
I know from experience that the best way to handle this situation is to forgive and figure out how to make different choices next time. I guess as long as I’m above ground, there is always more work to do, more maturing, more growing. I may not ever totally heal that childhood stuff, but as my favorite bumper sticker says, “Got Parents? Get Therapy.”
