Bea V. Larsen . . . .Commentaries |
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Bea V. Larsen is a Senior Mediator at the Center for Resolution of Disputes in |
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The Second Question This entry was posted on 9/24/2011 7:19 AM and is filed under Personally Speaking. I talk to people in elevators. Even unfamiliar faces open to a smile with a passing comment on the weather and the question: How are you? Almost invariably the answer is: fine. And we part wishing each other well. A graceful verbal pas de deux. When shopping some weeks ago, a woman approached me, familiar, but out of our usual context. In but a second there was recognition, she a physician I see annually, I a patient of long standing. My smile met hers and she asked: how are you? My response: fine. Then she asked the second question: Really fine? No longer an elevator conversation. She moved beyond the pro forma query and the automatic response, not settling for the dance. As it happens I was in good spirits, so reaffirmed my initial answer. But later, I recalled her second question and realized I was grateful for her persistent interest. It caused me to consider how often I ask only the first question, even of close friends and family. Too busy, or self absorbed, or maybe would rather not know? Why rather not know? On reflection, I've gained some insight: when our kids were young and became ill, I snapped into action, and took charge of their recovery with a purposeful ease. I had the power and control to select the right doctor and administer the care that would make them well. This was the role a mother should play and I did. Taking over in this way, my anxiety eased. But years later, when our children were grown and independent, a major medical issue arose for an adult son. It was my husband, Len, who became the more attentive parent when surgery was scheduled, traveling alone some distance to be with our son. It was Len who frequently called to ask how the recovery and follow up treatment was going. I waited to be told and was to some degree avoidant. No less concerned, but now with the decisions ceded to others, my anxiety grew. I think this is why: Len could listen and be empathic about a problem faced by one of our kids, without believing he had to influence the outcome. Not me, I slipped back to my old mother script, longed to protect even grown children and reestablish their equilibrium. But now I had no ability to do so. A new boundary was acknowledged, and no longer in charge, worry took over. My withdrawal at the time of crisis was self-protective. It has taken me far too long to learn that simply listening, seeking to understand and expressing sympathy is enough. No need to offer the right advice and take responsibility for the outcome. And giving up that mandate, which still requires a mindful pause, in time restores calm. Now I ask the second question more often, of friends and family, Sometimes, I will even ask the third question: anything I can do? I expect the answer will probably be: no, but it's good to talk it over. Just the asking brings comfort, for both of us. And on these new terms, I really do want to know. CommentsDisplay comments as (Linear | Threaded)
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