Your Path

 

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It Doesn't Decrease

 

The Sliver in the Achilles’ Heel

 

Late last year, I accidentally broke a couple of glass candles over our kitchen floor. Shattered glass was everywhere. What only took seconds to splinter throughout that kitchen/dining room space took an hour to clean up, in several stages.

I started sweeping the area, getting the larger pieces into the dustpan. Next, I thoroughly canvased the kitchen and dining room areas with wet paper towels, catching the more miniscule pieces as they glinted in weird spots, like half opened drawers, and even my cat’s food and water dishes.

(Don’t worry, I complexly switched out those dishes with clean ones).

Yes, I spent an hour scouring the areas, scanning all surfaces and crevices for any lurking, sharp glints. I thought I’d successfully swept/mopped/cleaned up all remnants of the candles.

Our home was safe once again. Problem solved.

Sure enough, three weeks later… while walking in between rooms, I got a shard of glass stuck in the bottom of my foot. Maybe it wasn’t even a shard, maybe it was more like a sliver. Teeny tiny. Barely seen.

But felt? Oh, that was a different story! Being lodged firmly in the bottom of my heel, I was keenly aware of its existence, with each step I took. I tried homemade remedies involving a piece of Ivory soap applied to the area, held in place by a Band-Aid. No success. I finally bought a nifty gadget that removed the sucker after a week. (But not before I spent my birthday with this irritating affliction lodged in my heel. Happy birthday to me).

The sliver taught me about the triggers that often lurk around the issues like abuse and addiction. Sometimes, we engage in a false sense of security about those very issues.

We tell ourselves we’ve dealt with our pain. We’ve been to therapy. We have participated in self-help seminars and healthier coping strategies. We’re all good.

When the calamity of our issue or disaster happened, we swept and mopped it up. All clean now. We covered every nook and cranny. Nothing to see here.

And then, whamm-o!

We’re in pain again.

I had recently left a longstanding and abusive relationship. I had been in therapy, received counsel and support from other trusted individuals. I was employing better coping strategies and behaviors. I was all better. I was healed, even (I can hear you snickering, by the way).

Not. So. Fast.

Lulled into a false sense of security, buoyed by an enthusiastic confidence at the freedom and my deliberate decision to emancipate myself from the situation, I, not surprisingly, found myself within another dysfunctional dynamic.

I initially got caught up in the feeling that I had successfully broken all dysfunctional and abusive cycles, once and for all (again, I hear you snickering).

Yes, I had a case of the “ta-dahs!” Woo-hoo! I made it!

 Never mind this latest person disrespected my time, was late for appointments, and did not follow through; their lip service did not match with the corresponding action. Never mind that I reverted to old patterns of codependency and poor self-care. The red flags were there. And yes, I saw them. I just chose not to acknowledge them.

And, like my afflicted foot, I tried to work with the irritation, doing my best to work around the discomfort. I operated from the principle I had done my healing work. I was not vulnerable to abuse any longer. I had changed. All the glass was cleaned and cleared up.

But, again, not so fast.

That pesky little sliver persisted, as communication with this individual resulted in confusion, tears, and a diminished sense of self. What was that all about? Huh. I thought I had moved on.

Yeah, I moved on, alright. I had unconsciously replaced the abuse I believed I had “left,” with another party who could still hurt me… because I was allowing it, through my own denial of reality.

Ouch.

There was and is regret about that. I work on processing just what it all meant. Contemplation about spent time and lessons learned abounded. I did learn that the behaviors I have around my abusive experiences are still my Achilles’ heel. I can make progress; I have made progress.

But I am still a finite, vulnerable human being, who will never arrive perfectly healed and bulletproof.

Quite the contrary.

The bullets can, all too easily, pierce me, especially if I neglect to take care of myself, in all the necessary ways I need to.

Like the broken glass, things concerning our personal issues do not tend to surface…until much later. Seemingly, from out of nowhere.

Triggers. Ah. Yikes.

Yep. There we are.

I didn’t know that was still there.

The poking irritation of my glass sliver reminded me otherwise. I was reminded of my Achilles’ heel.

However, being reminded of this can now work to help me get where- and to whom- I need to be.

So, yes, there’s value in my Achilles’ Heel.

Copyright © 2020 by Sheryle Cruse

The Hiss of Nice

 

It can be oh, so quiet. Stealth. Unassuming. It winds it way around to you. You barely hear the tail rattle, or the “S-S-S-S-S-S” emanate from its forked tongue.

And why would you?

There appears to be nothing to it. You give “nice” people the benefit of the doubt.

I once confronted someone about a reoccurring issue. I mentioned how a deadline kept getting missed.

This person normally was quite jovial, pleasant, charming. Therefore, their response to me was startling. Instead of acknowledging there was an issue, taking responsibility for it, and then following through with changed action, they sharply spat back…

“I think I’ve been very nice about this.”

And still, following that pointed remark, there continued to be inconsistencies, for which they avoided ownership of their failings.

It was then and there I received a gigantic lesson in “nice.”

Nice isn’t always so nice.

Often, at best, “nice” is passive-aggressive… and weaponized.

“I think I’ve been very nice about this” is the nice response.

Nice is all about pointing out just how wonderful it is.

Look at me.

But “Kind” says nothing about how kind they are. Kind just is.

It has nothing to prove. It has no one to please. It is largesse. It is freely given love, grace, acceptance, forgiveness, without keeping score.

Yes, concerning “I think I’ve been very nice about this,” there, indeed, was a keeping score element attached to it.

From my vantage point, it felt like this person was awaiting my congratulations on just how nice they were to me, this mere mortal. Forget about staying on topic. I felt like it was my job to tell this person how fantastic they were… for failing in their responsibilities.

Nice has a superiority to it, a judgment.

“I think I’ve been very nice about this.”

Translation, perhaps? “I am a better person than you. Look at how I’m tolerating your behavior, daring to address what you think is a problem. You should be ashamed.”

Now, to be fair, I cannot say, for sure, that’s exactly what this person meant. But that’s how it felt to me, on a gut level, in the moment.

And, again, you stack “Nice” up against “Kind,” and you see a dramatic difference.

Kind is about decency, for decency’s sake, not getting accolades for doing one’s job.

Kind minds its own business, does its own work. It’s not interested in being repeatedly told how wonderful a human being they are for doing their job.

If talk is cheap, then Kindness is priceless.

Nice has strings. Agenda.

“I think I’ve been very nice about this.”

Did you catch it? It’s quite subtle, but it’s there. There is an expectation of getting something from us. It’s implied that because “they” scratched our backs, we’ll be obligated to do the same concerning them.

Nice is agenda-laden: control, power, sympathy, “perks.”

Nice hisses with being owed something. Nice places us in a debtor’s prison. We can, all too easily, feel trapped, like we have no choice but to respond according to specification.

But “Kind” is not transactional.

Kind gives because the spirit and the heart are willingly engaged in doing so. And there’s the key word: willingly. No obligation, no strings, no expectation. Kind is not interested in making a purchase. Kind, literally, is charity. There’s no pay off expected. There’s nothing to earn. It’s about freely receiving.

Nice is concerned with appearances.

Perhaps you know a person who is always involved in the good causes. They’re constantly volunteering at their church, their kids’ school. They regularly attend fundraisers and walkathons. And they have the photos, plaques and adulation to prove it.

A segment of toxic individuals out there is collectively known as “Communal Narcissists.” It’s probably a safe bet that many “nice people” are, indeed, these kinds of Narcissists. They are the do-gooders, not for doing good’s sake, but for how other people view and acclaim them.

There’s nothing wrong with worthy causes and volunteering. The key is the motive for doing it. Is it to help others? Or is it for a photo op or the esteem others lavish upon this person?

 “I think I’ve been very nice about this.”

It is about image. The “nice” person my be overrun with the internal question, “How does this make me look?”

But, again, Kind is different; it gets messy and doesn’t care what it looks like.

Whereas a “nice” response is looking for every camera, every bit of attention and publicity, the Kind response is trying not to garner unnecessary attention. The Kind person recognizes that would be a distraction to the cause and the work they’re trying to do. There’s an element of anonymity involved. The phrase, “Never let your right hand know what your left hand is doing” captures that spirit beautifully.

Kind is too busy to worry about the appearance. Doing the worthwhile thing is what matters most to them.

Nice is a double standard.

There is a hypocrisy within this state of being. In a certain toxic “nice” person, there exists both the preferential treatment of some people over others, those deemed “more valuable,” and the unfair expectation the nice hiss demand of us. Not just expects. Demands.

Returning to the person who uttered, “I think I’ve been very nice about this,” I experienced both that preferential treatment and the spirit of demand from them, determining I should defer constantly, no matter what the situation was.

I was treated in an abusive, dismissive way by this individual.

Yet, I repeatedly witnessed their capability to treat someone else in a radically different manner. It wasn’t about unique personalities or someone having a bad day. Rather, it was the intentional assessment of how I was disposable, whereas another specific person was someone assigned the value of opportunity and gain. Hence, the different treatment.

To the outside world, I encountered them, via fake cordial pleasantries. But, behind closed doors? I got the real deal: disrespect and abuse.

But Kind is consistent.

It responds with universal respect to all. That doesn’t mean the kind person is perfect. It simply means that their determination, from the start, is to view life and humanity as precious. And then, that person acts accordingly.

There’s no preferential treatment, no sidling up to a person for opportunistic gain. There’s no “angel in public, devil at home” component to their natures. What we see and experience of them is truly what we get.

They don’t hiss with “nice” because “kind” speaks with dignity, humility and equality.

I once heard how the great boxer,  Muhammad Ali made it an intentional point, at any of the high-publicity events he attended, to purposely go out of his way, to go to the back kitchens and to the “lesser rooms,” to meet the “common people,” over the celebrities.

He preferred spending time with these people. Why? Because they were real; they were kind. He didn’t need to worry about Narcissistic, “yes men” hisses emanating from them.

Kind doesn’t hiss. It doesn’t need to.

So, it’s in our best interest to discern what we hear and experience of a person. If we feel “nice” is coming at us, what’s behind it? We’ll know if something is off. The “nice hiss” trips our gut check. We can detect it. Just like we can detect genuine kindness.

The homework then? Start detecting.

Do we hear that hiss?

Copyright © 2020 by Sheryle Cruse

 

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