Caring Souls

I have been repeatedly told for as long as I can remember that I care too much. In a world full of war and abuse and waste; how is caring a bad thing? With the recent mass shooting in Christchurch, I have been reflecting on the cultural shift of the last fifty to hundred years. A cultural shift that favours people that take advantage of others; one that sees bullying programs required in the majority of schools; where depersonalised online communications are so awful people commit suicide and the gap between socioeconomic groups is widening. Where the rich are getting richer while the poor continue to spiral down.

In a world like that, I wonder why is it that I was berated for stopping to scoop a worm from a puddle and place it on the grass. Or punished for being late to class as I sat with a classmate who’d broken his arm when he tried to do a backflip off the monkey bars (yep, I’m showing my age with that one)? Or scolded for inviting a mismatched group of people to my 10th birthday? 

I’m so thankful that I didn’t “harden up”. I’m so glad that I did me and I stayed soft. From bullying for reading textbooks at lunchtime to separation and divorce. 

Being soft means that I cry. A lot. I cry when I read news articles about paedophilia or watch a tissue commercial or when I hear that a friend has had a baby or watch someone win a gold medal. I cry when I listen to podcasts where people follow their dreams and, despite adversity, succeed. I cry when others suffer; even if I don’t know them. 

Being soft means that little things hurt me. When the whole office goes out for drinks but I’m not invited because I don’t work for the main company the owners run (I am the only employee for their new startup). Or when someone says they will do something for me but they don’t. Or when I open a door for someone and they don’t say thank you. Those seemingly little things hurt me because it’s so easy to be kind. And It’s free. 

So why does our society shun kindness and caring? Because being kind doesn’t make money. And daring requires being vulnerable. In our status and money-driven world, there’s a stigma associated with showing softness. 

I disagree. I truly believe that there’s a strength in caring for others that’s worth more than money. If I didn’t I would have succumbed to my mother’s pleas, my sister’s taunting and my father’s stern words. I know they did this out of love. They did it because my responses were out of the realm of normal from their experience. They did it because they didn’t want me to suffer. 

But I suffered more when I tried to harden up. When I pushed those emotions down they manifested as a sore throat or muscular pain or headaches. So many headaches. And the headaches progressed to migraines. Debilitating, lying in a cold dark room kind of migraines. 

When I am in tune with my empathetic nature and allow my softness to flow into the world I am more stable. Not less so. I am more successful. I attract better people into my life. People who appreciate authenticity. People who care more about people than things. My people.

There is nothing wrong with being soft. I would argue that the world needs more softness, more compassion, and more caring. I am proud to be able to demonstrate to my children the power of vulnerability (see the great work of Brene Brown on this particular point). I am content with my transparency. My inability to lie and the way that my emotions display like a neon sign across my face means that I never try to dupe people. They would see through it if I did.

Therefore, I am unashamedly honest in every interaction I have. Does this lead to some embarrassing moments? Hell yes! Are they worth it? Totally. 

I am the epitome of what you see is what you get. No pretences. No drama (well, as my husband will attest, sometimes there's the occasional tantrum but that's usually from internal frustration as a result of my perfectionist tendencies - more on that later). No angst. Embracing my soft, caring, compassionate and generous nature has meant I am no longer in conflict with myself. I have wholeheartedly accepted who I am. And I am proud of giving myself permission to live honestly in a world that is geared towards supporting arseholes. I would be in a very different position in my career had I been willing to play office politics; to use others as a rung in the corporate ladder. But I chose another path - a path where I have promoted my staff into positions higher than me. I have chosen to leave roles where I was asked to lie to stakeholders or the board. I have chosen to follow the path of honesty and, in doing so, I have maintained my integrity. I live my values. Regardless of the cost.

There are plenty of people out there like me. Kind, caring, compassionate, empathetic souls that feel like they are being crushed. The world needs more people that care. If you're one of them I urge you to step into your softness. Embrace the incredible gift you have been given like you would a friend who's been dumped. Give yourself an internal hug, maybe have a little cry, and find a way to let your light shine. 

Some of the things that have helped me include crying (obviously), meditation, journaling and running. I cannot tell you how many kilometres I have run while tears have streamed down my face. I find it therapeutic. I don't need to do it anymore as my life is the happiest it has ever been. But I used that crazy technique for years when I was going through separation and divorce. And, though I miss the slimmer thighs that resulted from the long runs, I am glad I no longer need that particular strategy. I still use meditation and journaling daily. My journal and meditation sessions generally focus on gratitude. I find that when I draw attention to the things I am grateful for, I am better able to cope with the flood of emotions that are always coursing through me. There are times when I am so overflowing with love for my husband, my children and my extended family that it honestly feels like my chest is going to burst open. It's one of the costs of the choice I have made. And that is a cost I am willing to pay.