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Kindness

Every experience one has had adds a little spot of colour on to the background of the personality one is born with.When a childhood is spent in a rough-and-tumble household, when the school-age years is spent in a competitive environment, when one learns throughout young adulthood to rely on oneself to achieve one's own goals and to feel the consequences of one's own decisions, one develops a certain attitude that is self-centric. I ponder my own problems, I make my own decisions, I take action on those decisions alone and I accept the results of those actions.

I find it far easier to get angry at an injustice, or to face a fear as a challenge, or to extend kindness to a stranger. It is far harder to comprehend the wants and needs of a loved one; the emotions are too complex. It is harder too, to find yourself at the receiving end of kindness, to suddenly realise that someone finds you deserving of kindness and compassion. It is not that my self-esteem is so low, it is just that I do not think I have done anything to deserve it. All I have done is what I know I have to do, out of what I feel is right. How strange to think that others have noticed and admired my actions. How strange to have others speak with concern of the potential mistake that I will make in my future. How strange that it is not a close friend or family that is concerned for my future happiness, but someone who would have nothing to gain from my emotional well-being.

It is enough to make one come undone, to have tears prickle at the corner of my eyes. I have been fortunate in many things in life that I never expected to be shown sympathy. Suddenly I find someone feeling sorry for me and going out of their way to be kind to me.

It is too much.
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Anonymous said…
I wonder too, if it is easier to show grace to someone you are not directly related to, that the separation encourages more empathy. I looked at my father feeling that he was tougher on me and more open to those outside the family than me; but saw myself always playing the devil's advocate with my own children. The outcomes for their lives were emotionally entwined with my own sense of identity and that kept me from supporting them as distinct entities. It kept me from seeing that their need was for my acceptance, objective listening ear, belief in their abilities to self-correct, unconditional regard. To come to this place has been a long journey, fraught with backsliding moments. But I have come to see my place with them, and perhaps with all humanity, as to be a listener; they are capable of doing the rest on their own. I think there is an important level of care conveyed in this idea of listening, whether verbal, or through the written word.
05 February, 2011 00:37
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