tough love

i was walking with my mom yesterday, pondering our loved ones and comparing our opinions on dealing with the crises of others.  my mom, ever the nurturer, is a listener.  an, "oh, i am so sorry for you.  this is what i feel you should do about it."  when her advice isn't taken, and she is again sought after to listen to the same tale of woe, she offers up the same listening ear, the same soft response, and the same level of patience. 

yeah, that's not me.

over the course of the past few years, i have learned a lot about myself in this arena.  what kind of a caregiver am i?  am i nurturing?  am i a sergeant?  am i a pillow, a brick wall, or somewhere in between?

to my own surprise, i have learned that i am a tough lover.  and the more i love you, the more likely you are to notice it.  to feel it.  to feel an "ouch" in some of my responses or suggestions. 

while, in my deepest core of amy, i know my intentions are right - i am trying to help, and doing my best - i also realize my tough love approach is , in part, a result of a lack of practiced patience. 

and i am sorry.

there is something to be said for an individual with a fountain of patience.  a heart big enough to feel the hurt of a loved one, without growing frustrated as that loved one seems to ignore your best advice and repeat mistakes over, and over, and over.  a filter to keep from hurting a loved one with what they're really thinking, even if it's the truth.

my mother is the above big heart.  and to my dismay, i have realized, i am not.

please do keep in mind, my intentions are good.  my words are expressions of deep thoughts and feelings relating to the extent to which i love a person and want the best for them.  almost like the stereotypical man, i tend to try to "fix" people rather than continue listening.  i focus on next steps rather than the emotional catharsis found from simply talking something out repeatedly.

i like to think that, throughout the first few rounds, i provide a satisfactory listening ear.  i hear you.  i listen to you.  i think deeply, try to feel what you feel.  and then i diagnose.  and i try to cure.

i need to keep in mind that, as loved ones go, sometimes all they need stops before the diagnosis stage of my natural reaction.  you may not be looking for a diagnosis.  more than likely, you're not looking for a cure. 

you're looking for someone on your team, to listen to you, to hear you, to feel with you, and even to cry with you.  to get it out, without focusing on what you may have done wrong.

i've been that "you", that loved one.  i have been the girl looking for a listening ear, resenting the proposed diagnosis or steps toward a suggested "cure" to my situation.  and i have also been the girl that chose not to take those suggestions.  to make the same mistakes - over, and over, ad nauseum i am sure to my girlfriends and family.  talking it out.  same old story.  same mistakes.  woe was me (and sometimes still is).

so why can't i provide for my loved ones what i have sought from them?  it's my natural tendency, but is it permanent?  can i filter my opinions more thoroughly in an effort to spare my loved ones from hearing potentially hurtful truths? 

should i?

i'm thinking through some examples.

my sweet mother tells me she feels as if she's gaining weight.  that she realizes she is snacking more than she ought to, and that she feels unhappy with her body.  she's uncomfortable.  (i've been there)

what should i say?

my natural tendency: i told you those nuts were high in calories.  scale back on them.  i'll work out with you more often.  I'll provide an estimate as to your basal metabolic rate plus your estimated activity burn so that you know how many calories you ought to shoot for in a day.

and then i catch myself: of course, you are beautiful (she is!).  your metabolism naturally slows down, and if you're hungry, you should eat.  i wouldn't worry about gaining a few pounds, find clothes that make you feel good about yourself and you'll always look like a rockstar.  i hope i look like you when i'm your age (i do).

what is better for her?  (a) the brutally honest truth, steps to help her "fix" the problem, (b) a reminder that she looks great, she's allowed to gain weight, it's probably just her metabolism slowing down and not a result of any bad habits, or ...? 

i want to help.  but i also don't want to hurt.

my single, beautiful friend tells me about the hardships of dating life, of finding the right man, of trying to figure out what a man's actions and words really mean.  she's lonely.  (i've been there - many times)

what should i say?

my natural tendency: he's not calling you back, he's not asking you on real dates, he's not taking any initiative - he's just not that into you.  i don't know why.  move on.

and then i catch myself: maybe he's busy.  maybe he's still working through hurt feelings from a past relationship.  maybe you should just give him some time, i'm sure he'll become more into you as he gets to know you better.  things could turn out great!  he'd be a fool not to fall for you (he would be - she's a catch).

what is better for her?  (a) suggesting my honest thoughts - something just isn't there for him, there are other fish in the sea, she shouldn't waste her time and should force herself to leave him in her dust (however much she may be disappointed, confused and hurt) or (b) suggest alternatives to the "he's just not that into you" theory, allow her to get her hopes up, delay potential hurt, only to potentially be hurt even worse when things just don't work out...but what if they would work out!?

what if i'm wrong.

i want to help.  but i don't want to hurt.

my boyfriend has had surgery, and he's feeling sorry for himself.  as he should be - he's incapacitated and in pain.  his inclination is to lay on the couch and slowly recover, worry about what could have gone wrong, and be nursed.

my natural tendency: i know it hurts, but you've got to strengthen your muscles and stretch things out.  you're going to be fine, you have an appointment scheduled with the doctor soon, and it's not life or death.  you should do what you can to speed recovery and get back into a normal routine.  try doing things for yourself, and i'll take care of what you really can't handle.  if you're in pain, take some pain meds.  it's going to be fine.

and then i catch myself: baby, i love you.  i'm sorry you're in pain.  i'll do my best to take extra special care of you, and i'll help you with whatever you feel you need help with.  talk to me about what worries you, and we'll see what we can do.  if you don't feel up to trying to get back to normal yet, we can wait.

i want him to get better.  i don't want him to focus on the negative.  i want him to look forward to his recovery, and to take strides (with my help) to get there.  but i don't want him to feel uncared for.  i don't want him to stretch himself beyond his limits.  i don't want him to become more depressed with his condition by feeling as if no one cares that he's going through a tough time.

what is better for him?  (a) to push him, to strengthen him, to try to change his focus to his own future better health and to speed his recovery or (b) to coddle him, to potentially slow his recovery but make things easier on him, to baby him and to allow him to settle into the "sick man" mindset for however long it suits him.

i want to help.  but i don't want to hurt.

and so, i ask you - what is the best method of providing support?  how to help loved ones without hurting them?  where should the filter line be drawn when it comes to expressing opinions, potential truths, and where should i stop at just listening?

i realize i have some work to do in the patience arena.  that my filter ought probably to be refined.  my intentions are good. 

how do i help, without hurting?  what do you do?