Seeing the Other Side

Last week I started watching the movie Twelve Years a Slave.  A few minutes into the movie, the main character is kidnapped and beaten.  As I watched, I felt like I was going to throw up.  Tears welled up in my eyes as feelings of outrage, grief, sorrow and agony overwhelmed me.  My reaction was so strong that I turned the movie off unable to continue.      

Then, a few days later I started watching Soul Sunday about compassion.  Compassion was explained as “feeling or enduring with another.”  Compassion basically asks us to treat other people as we would want to be treated.  

I pictured myself being compassionate to a friend who went through a divorce.  I saw myself being compassionate to my son after a friend was mean to him.  I saw myself even being compassionate to the made-up character in 12 Years a Slave…but I realized that I wasn’t practicing ANY compassion towards my parents whose behavior I often struggle with.   

Looking back over the landscape of my interactions with my parents, I asked myself how I would feel if my son treated me the way I treated them.  This simple question struck a nerve inside me and the push back was immediate, “Well, I would never do what they have done…They shouldn’t have acted that way…They hurt me…I’m right and they are wrong.”  Rationalizing? After asking myself such a simple question?  I knew I had irritated some part of myself so I pushed through interested in what was underlying my strong reaction.   

How would I feel if I were my parents?  If my past behavior was directed at me, how would I feel?  I started to cry as I realized how much pain and hurt I must have caused them.  For the first time, I didn’t focus on what they did to “cause” my reaction.  Instead, I thought about what it would feel like to have my son repeatedly burst out in anger (if I’m being honest, more like explode).  I imagined having my son tell me I couldn’t stay with him during visits or if he abruptly cancelled a trip to see me.  I asked myself what it would feel like to know my son was repeatedly hurt and angered by my behavior but have no clue what I did, what to do about it or how to fix it.  I sat on the edge of my bed crying as I realized I showed more compassion to a made up character in a movie than I did to my own parents whom I love very much.

This morning I received an email from my Mom asking me to place an online order for her.  Even though I told her I would place the order over the weekend (and it is Friday), this is her 7^th email making the request.  As I restrain from emailing her the smart-ass and irritated remark that pops into my head, I repeat the mantra: compassion… compassion… compassion.