I have spent a lot of my life being very good.
At noticing how other people are doing.
You know the drill.
You walk into a room and somehow you're already taking inventory.
Who's upset?
Who seems uncomfortable?
Is somebody disappointed?
Did I say something wrong?
Is there something I should do to fix it?
Should I explain myself?
Should I make this better somehow?
For a long time,
I don't think I even realized how much energy I was spending doing that.
I thought I was being caring.
Being empathetic.
Paying attention.
I wanted the people I loved to be okay.
Those are good qualities.
But somewhere along the way,
I started realizing that caring about how somebody feels,
And feeling responsible for it somehow,
Are two different things.
And wow.
I can't get those two things.
Tangled together again.
I can remember plenty of times when somebody was unhappy with the decision I made and my first reaction wasn't to check in with myself.
It was to check in with them.
Are they upset?
Are they disappointed in me?
Should I explain myself differently?
Maybe I should change the decision.
Maybe I should make it better.
For them.
Their discomfort became the thing I needed to solve.
I didn't consciously think.
I am now going to take responsibility for this grown person's emotional experience because That would sound ridiculous.
It was much quieter than that.
It looked like helping.
It looked like being considerate.
Sometimes.
It even looked like love.
And that's why I think this is worth talking about.
Because being good at noticing people isn't the problem.
Caring is not the problem.
Empathy is key.
Certainly not the problem.
The problem starts when noticing becomes responsibility.
Someone is disappointed with a decision you make.
So you immediately start questioning the decision.
Someone is stressed.
So you start trying to solve the problem.
Someone you love is unhappy and somehow their unhappiness starts to feel like evidence that you haven't done enough.
And before you know it,
You're not just having your own emotional experience,
You're managing everybody else's too.
I know how exhausting that is.
One of the things I've had to learn and continue to practice.
Is Can I care about how you feel?
Without making how you feel.
My assignment.
Even now,
That sentence can sound much easier in theory.
Than it feels in actual relationships.
Because somebody can be disappointed in me and I still have made the right decision for myself.
Someone can be uncomfortable with a boundary that I've set.
And that doesn't automatically mean that the boundary is wrong.
Someone I love can be struggling and I can support them without taking over the struggle.
That last one.
That is a biggie for me.
Because I like helping.
I'm a problem solver.
Give me a problem any day and there is a part of my brain that is already halfway to a spreadsheet before you've even finished explaining it.
Sometimes that's useful.
Sometimes it is absolutely not what the other person needs.
And sometimes.
If I'm paying close enough attention.
I realize the helping isn't entirely about them anyway.
A part of me wants to help because I don't like watching someone I care about be uncomfortable.
That was an important thing for me to notice.
There's a difference between helping because I genuinely want to offer support and helping.
Because I can't tolerate your discomfort.
There's also a difference between offering support and assuming responsibility.
One of the things mindfulness has taught me is to notice the moment.
When I leave myself.
Maybe you know that moment too.
Someone reacts to something and suddenly your attention goes completely towards them.
You're reading their face.
You're anticipating what they might say.
You're mentally composing an explanation.
You're wondering what you could change so they won't be upset anymore.
You may still be sitting right there.
But you've basically abandoned your own experience to go manage theirs.
I've gotten better at noticing when I do this.
And.
I would love to tell you that you'll never do it anymore.
And that would be a big fat lie.
The difference is now that I'm more likely to catch myself.
And when I do,
I try and pause.
Take a breath.
And ask myself,
What is actually mine here?
That question has been incredibly useful for me because sometimes there really is something that is mine.
My words are mine.
My behavior is mine.
If I hurt someone,
Taking responsibility for that is mine.
Listening can be mine.
Apologizing when an apology is appropriate is lying.
Repairing something I've damaged is mine.
I'm not using boundaries as an excuse to avoid accountability.
That's not a boundary.
That's just being a jerk with better vocabulary.
But someone else's reaction to my boundary.
Their disappointment because I said no.
Their frustration because I'm not available,
Or their anxiety about a decision that ultimately belongs to me.
That may not be me.
Or mine.
And knowing it isn't mine doesn't magically make me stop caring.
That was another thing I had to learn.
I can still wish they weren't upset.
I can still.
Feel empathy.
I can still want things to be easier for them.
I can sit beside someone I love while they're having a hard time.
I just don't have to turn their feelings.
.
.
Into my job.
For me,
That's become one of the most useful ways to think about boundaries.
Not as some giant wall.
I'm putting between myself and everybody else.
But as the place where I remember where I end.
And another person begins.
The place where I go.
There I am.
I'm still here.
I still get to notice what I feel,
What I need,
What I know,
What is right for me.
And I can do all of that while still loving another person.
If any of this feels familiar,
I want to give you something really simple to experiment.
Pay attention.
To the moments.
When somebody else's feelings.
Suddenly become really,
Really loud inside you.
You don't need to judge yourself when it happens.
I certainly don't need another thing on my list to manage perfectly and neither do you.
Just notice it.
Take a breath.
And ask.
Is there actually something for me to do here or am I trying to make another person's discomfort go away?
Sometimes there will be something to do.
Have a conversation.
Own your part.
Offer help.
Listen.
Make the repair.
Sometimes the most respectful thing we can do.
For ourselves and the other person is to allow another adult to have their own feelings.
I'm still practicing this.
I suspect I'll be practicing it for the rest of my life.
But I know this much.
I don't have to fix every feeling.
In order to be a caring person.
I don't have to keep everyone comfortable in order to be a good person.
And I don't have to disappear from my own life to prove that I love somebody.
Neither do you.
We can care.
We can stay.
And we can let what belongs to someone else remain with them.
Bad.
When we inevitably catch ourselves carrying something that isn't ours again?
And we will.
We notice it.
Take a breath.
And return.
