On Hugs and Haters and The Space In Between

photo: Libby Mundy

I have never liked those half-empty, side-armed, pat-pat kind of hugs.  If it's a hug I'm after, I’m hoping for a real hug. One where I feel held and acknowledged. But lots of times, that's not what folks are open to - makes us feel too vulnerable. And, that’s the rub, er issue, isn’t it?  Allowing ourselves to be vulnerable.  Opening ourselves up . . . To a hug. A new experience. A new way of doing things.  A new relationship.  A new perspective.  A new way of being.

Remaining open isn’t easy. In fact, as most of us can attest – particularly those of us who tout “being open” as a good place to be – it’s hard.  Really hard.  Because it requires us to name our fears, to face them, and even to embrace them.  Why, oh why, you may ask, would I ever want to do that?  Well, they most likely have a lesson for you sitting inside them, waiting to be split wide open.  And when you do embrace that fear, open that tightly locked Pandora’s box, well you just never know what may happen.  The fear may very well dissolve.  Or bite us (we can always bite back).  Or simply nip at us to remind us that it’s there.  So be it.  We need to look at whatever that fear is and move forward anyway.

Take one of my fears – perhaps it’s one of yours too? – not being accepted or liked.  Gosh, do I want people to like me!  And though I’m very, very biased, I think I am a pretty easy-to-like person (I sure try to be).  But there are just some people – only a couple, I think! – who have major issues with me. (That’s hard for me to even type.)  And silly me, that makes me sad.  It hurts my feelings.  It makes me wonder what exactly it is about me that so rubs them the wrong way (and I really mean rub here!). It makes me feel like I’m back in grade school, hoping to be one of the first picked for a team.  And though I usually was one of those lucky ones that was never left as the very last to be chosen, I knew deep down how awful that must have felt.

Awful like a time recently when I was not invited to my department’s office holiday party.  This was even worse than being picked last.  This was not being picked at all.  Being intentionally left out.  The ultimate “screw you”.  And it hurt.  It hurt a lot.  Because I was always taught to play fair and be kind.  And even if you don’t like someone, even if you have to count to ten when you are around them because they are driving you crazy, you don’t consciously exclude them.  That is just mean.  And I’m not a mean person and I don’t understand being mean just to be mean.

But here’s where I’m getting better.  Where I’m facing some of my fears.  I working at caring less about what people think and whether or not they accept me.  I’m letting go of some so-called friends and acquaintances along the way but I’m gaining more of me in the process.   And I am more fully embracing those people – my tribe – my touchstones – my mirrors – who reflect back to me the love, respect, authenticity, and compassion that I am trying to give to life each day.

Here’s the deal. Life is short. Too short for lots of things but way too short to let mean people have any hold on you.  Because the thing about their meanness: it’s about THEM, not about YOU.  Once you get this, your anger dissolves into compassion, and perhaps even empathy, for those sad souls who act mean and hateful but really just don’t like something in themselves.

The lesson in the movie Philomena really struck this point home.  The main character, played by Judi Dench, has a child in a convent as a teen, and those zealous  nuns are unforgiving and cruel. The toddler is later adopted by a family and the birth mother never sees that child again – even though both unknowingly looked for each other.  The journalist who travels with Philomena and shares her story is filled with anger at the injustices and conscious efforts the nuns’ made to NOT reconcile mother and son.  Whereas, Philomena, she is distraught by the man’s inability to see past his anger.  For she, she is able to step into the others’ shoes (the very definition of empathy) and understand where they are coming from.  And in so doing, she is able to both fathom and forgive.

There’s a lesson there for all of us.  In any troubling, heart-wrenching situation, we have a choice.  Anger or forgiveness.  And as I endeavor to be more and more of my whole self, I need to take that same tack – not only with those hard relationships and people I encounter - but with myself too.  Less anger or disappointment that I can’t live up to some pre-conceived, acceptable external measure, more forgiveness and self-love for who I am: a whole, complete, perfectly imperfect reflection of God, doing the best I can in any given moment with what I have, doing what I know to do. 

And when we know better, we do better. 

I’m trying everyday.

And you, what will it be?  Anger?  Or, forgiveness?