Navigating a Whackadoodle World: Episode 38, or What to do when you've had enough?
A Whackadoodle discussion with my student in which she does a lot of venting, and I give her an easy assignment concerning the Power of Contribution and Compensation.
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She came to our tutoring session fuming, “I get the whole ‘As you sow, so shall you reap’ thing. I know that when I respond to anger with anger, I’ll just create more anger. But what the heck am I supposed to do when someone keeps piling crap on me? Am I just suppose to sit there like a statue and politely take it?” She didn’t even bother sitting down. She just kept pacing around the room.
“I think that I’m going to need more information.” I suggested.
“My Aunt has come to visit again,” she explained with her eyes rolling. “It wouldn’t be so bad that I have to give her my room, but I am expected to be happy about it. Like I am expected to pretend to feel something I don’t feel. I’m supposed to feel grateful that she is still healthy enough to visit, but I don’t feel grateful. I feel like the next two weeks will be hell.” She finally sat down with a huff. “Do you know that she smokes at night? Not on the back porch like a polite smoker might. She smokes in my room! Last time, I had burn marks on my bedside table when she left. Plus, she lights all my candles without replacing them.”
“Probably trying to hide the smoke smell,” I commented dryly.
She sent me a dirty look. “If that’s what she’s doing, it doesn’t work.”
“I’m sorry about the smoking,” I said. “But how is smoking in your room piling crap on you?”
“Oh, that’s not the crap,” she shook her head. “It’s the way she treats me. I can’t do anything right. Every opinion I have must be corrected. But do I dare to ever correct her? No, I do not. Not unless I want an angry word shoved in my face.” She sat forward confidentially. “There was this one time, when I was fighting a cold, she started going on and on about how I should start taking Goldenseal and Echinacea. She insisted that they had kept her from getting sick for years. I mentioned that I had once look them both up on the Mayo Clinic website, and the site had said, ‘(Goldenseal and Echinacea are among) a number of products (that) have claimed to help fend off common illnesses, such as the cold or flu. While some of these substances have appeared promising in early trials, follow-up studies may have had conflicting or inconclusive results. More research needs to be done.’ You should have seen how angry she got. She shoved her face right up against mine and said, ‘Goldenseal and Echinacea are not placebos!’ Her teeth were gritted and everything.”
“There’s actually a lot of scientific evidence that the Placebo Effect can work on minor ailments,” I tossed in. “Things like chronic pain, nausea, sleep conditions, depression, mood disorders.
“I know,” she exploded. “But I didn’t dare tell her that? No, I did not. I can’t say anything around her without her interrupting and making it all about her. It’s like she’s compelled to give her opinion about everything and everyone. She turns the stupidest things into arguments because everyone must agree with everything she says. I swear that I’m not going to be able to survive the next two weeks without breaking something.”
“So, if it would help, go ahead and break something,” I shrugged.
“What?” she sounded shocked that I would suggest such a thing.
“Don’t break anything important, and certainly don’t break anything over her head, but when someone is as worked up as you are now, a little venting can work wonders to bring back a sense of perspective and equilibrium. Of course,” I added. “Breaking something is not my first choice for venting.”
“How do you vent?”
“Sometimes, I take a walk and tell the trees everything that’s been building up. I let the breeze take my anger away. Other times, I clean. I scrub. I bake. I swim. I know some people vent to God. Others vent to a friend. But it’s important to find the right friend. Someone who knows how to let people vent.”
“Don’t you just let the person talk?”
“Yes, but it is also important that you avoid offering advice when someone needs to vent. You don’t sympathize, you empathize.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Sympathy involves agreement. It would be like me saying, ‘I know someone just like your aunt. Let me tell you about her.’ Empathy, on the other hand, is about acknowledging emotions and allowing you to vent them in a healthy way. It’s kind of what therapists do.”
“But how does venting help solve anything?” she sounded discouraged.
“Venting allows you to ride your emotions until you understand what they are trying to tell you,” I told her. “Let’s face it, people don’t make good decisions when they’re emotional, but you can’t just shut your emotion off. You need to ride them to their conclusion before you can begin to think critically about a situation and start looking for solutions.”
“So once I vent, I can create a plan?”
“You can get some perspective, yes. You can decide your best course of action.”
“So what do you think my best course of action is for my aunt?”
“I think you need to pick your battles. I doubt you will be able to influence her ability to communicate more effectively, but I can think of a way to solve at least one of those things that drive you crazy.”
“Which?”
“The candles,” I said. “Next time she comes to visit, hide them. While you are at it, consider putting up a few no smoking signs in your room and putting every possible ashtray on the back porch along side a comfortable corner for her to sit. Make the back porch her special place.”
“Hum,” she grunted. “That won’t help me with the rest of her crap.”
I considered for a moment. “Do you care about the relationship?” I asked eventually.
She adjusted her shoulders uncomfortably. “She’s my mom’s sister. I suppose that makes the relationship important. I just don’t like her very much.”
“If the relationship matters, then I recommend the eighty/twenty rule.”
“The Pareto Principle?” she sounded surprised. “How does that help?”
“Hear me out,” I put up a hand. “You give her twenty percent of your time while she’s visiting. You actually engage her in conversation. You ask about her childhood. You ask about your mom. It sounds like she might be lonely and desperate to be heard, so you take the time to ask her about recipes, and books, and movies, and old boyfriends. You learn a little bit more about her. You might even find something you like.”
“And the other eighty percent of my time?”
“That time is yours, and you can feel free to claim it. Set your schedule. Let people know what you will be doing, so you can’t be so easily interrupted. Tell them I’ve sent you home with an assignment, so you are going to be quite busy.”
“You want me to lie to them about getting an assignment?”
“No,” I grinned. “I am giving you an assignment.” Her eyes darkened, so I hurried to explain. “Your assignment for the next two weeks is to learn what you can about your aunt, and reflect on how the power of contribution and compensation impacts both of your lives. What you are doing while you are reflecting, I leave up to you.”
“So I don’t have to write any paper?”
“Not unless inspiration strikes you,” I assured her. “Now, did you actually have any school homework that you’d like to go over?”
She sighed thoughtfully and began opening her backpack.