One More Perspective

For over a month, a Family member has been recovering from an acute illness and we’ve rallied around our Patient, while often fumbling through questions around what actually constitutes help vs what only makes us, the powerless bystanders, feel better.  The early days in the hospital were straightforward; weeks later, we’re out of emergency mode, but not done with the acute worry.  This morning, there were a series a missteps around an IV antibiotic, but I wasn’t the first to the discovery, the first responder, so to speak. 

When a loved one becomes ill, the emotions flow in a reasonably organized fashion, easier pointed toward triage and containment, but several weeks into treatment, those same emotions can be less channeled and can often ricochet as a morphed surplus yet to be digested.  Illness brings forth our deepest fear, love, panic, regret, double-guessing, alertness, focus…very intense and exhausting feelings, all with the same hope of having our loved one heal as soon as possible.  It’s powerful and it can test the most successful relationships and self-development.  Overall, we are doing well, converging and staying mostly organized, and we are all rooting for our Patient.

The fumble with the IV antibiotic this morning occurred when I wasn’t there, and wasn’t immediately available to help triage.  The person who was keeping our Patient company reacted with the full alarm congruent with the type of medication and the condition it concerned, rooted in worry for the consequences and not quite sure of the get-well plan steps and duration.  I could fully empathize with this loved one’s reflexive response, and recognized it as something I would have had, had I been the first line of discovery in this instance.  

…but I wasn’t. 

What a luxury to not be.  I got handed a package of the adverse situation complete with an already acute worry disguised as a high-energy emotional response.  I didn’t have to be the one to establish the immediate attention and sense of urgency for someone else.  Stepping into that stimulus-response allowed me to fast-track to solutioning, as the “Aaaaa!” arm-waving-for-help part was already in full bloom, and I got to just put a check mark next to “sound the alarm!”  This was my epiphany.  Since I’m usually either the first line of defense or the one raising awareness around one topic or issue or another (fire), I’m very much the horn, the arm-waver, the spin-upper.  As the primary caregiver for my Children their entire childhoods…hell, as the primary caregiver for my own childhood and beyond, I have always had to be the one to sound alarms.  Unlike most Children for whom Parents will shriek at the possibility of danger, for me, it was the other way around; I always had to question whether what I was experiencing was as fucked up as it felt, as no one else seemed concerned.  …but that wasn’t the case today, and it provided an invaluable insight. 

The second on the scene, so to speak, gets the benefit of the others’ initial emotional response. 

Looking at our Patient and Company in high-gear, I got to slip into a role I seldom get to…the role of the second-string.  The second-string gets to be the cool, calm and collected one, the one who rationally thinks of the situation at hand and starts churning out the brilliant next steps.  …and this phenomenon really stood out to me this time. 

How would IIhave experienced my life, how would I behave differently if I had been surrounded by more first-responder types my whole life? 

In my childhood, I (and every Child in theirs) should have been under the protection of those carefully tending to my (their) safety and wellbeing, but I wasn’t.  My Father was an ample reactor, but usually not on my behalf…as in not on my side.  My Mother similarly was not a reliable advocate for me.  When I was in situations that should have commanded protection, their responses weren’t in that vein.  They were sharply focused on what my contribution may have been, modeling the parenting they received.  Though not unusual for the world at large prior to the 21st century, what today we’d readily recognize as victim-shaming confused, devastated and panicked me.  …but to the world, I was just angry. 

If I had a dollar for every time I was judged and frequently shunned for having a “big reaction” or for being “intense” I would be retiring for good.  I have taken these out-of-context criticisms most frequently and most impactfully from people who are the closest to me, and often, those I have trusted to love me.  Unfortunately, they were also the least equipped to step into my perspective and to see how I was experiencing life without someone to whom to defer.  I have not frequently had a reliable first-responder in my life, so I learned to raise alarm, despite the consequences, and shame. 

I feel significant breakthrough with my latest observation, however.  I do absolutely need to develop a finer-tuned response system; thirty years overdo.  …but I no longer need to feel shame for how I adapted to not having the protection and support which would have allowed me to experience situations as second on the scene, less intensely.  Being my own only advocate for most of my life left me feeling alone, unacknowledged and unacceptable in situations where I had no choice but to be my own first line of defense.  Those arriving second on the scene got the benefit of my expended emotions every time…and in turn, they threw stones. 

This phenomenon, me without someone to defer to…to get to be second on the scene, will happen many more times, but I will remember today’s epiphany.  I will know how I developed my ‘overreaction’ and what relationship dynamics keep it going, and I will not feel automatic shame.  That alone removes a giant barrier to calibrating how I do when I discover a proverbial fire.