Errors in conversation - knowing failure when I see it

I'm not the greatest at live conversation. When people complain, when I hear people tell me all about the horrible things in their lives, I become a problem solver. Instead of building up empathy and connecting with their feelings I try to fix their issues. I do this over and over again, but recently I had an experience that was a little different.

-------

A few weeks ago, I was visiting my friend Gina while she had some other people over. Another friend, Sara, was in the kitchen telling a group of us all about her husband who was sick. As she spoke, her head dropped lower and lower. She seemed to be using that tone of voice I've heard when people are trying not to cry; a little choked up, overly high-pitched and false-happy sounding. She was sad, but she did seem to be getting some relief by opening up to both of us about the many fun times her and her husband had together, before the illness. She moved on, describing the very limited life they lived now; they were only travelling short distances, they hadn't seen certain close friends in many years, and they had to carry their medical equipment everywhere they went.

As Sara went on, Gina commented, "Wow, so there's nothing that can be done? Have they tried all the medicines? What about surgery, have they tried that? Which hospital did she go to?" Etc. I was noticing that Gina was doing exactly what I've done so many times - she was trying to fix her problem.

As Gina continued her medical analysis, I realized I was seeing the entire discussion as a spectator, it was like watching a play open up before me. Sara's face had gone blank, and she was numbly answering Gina's questions one after the other. It was clear to me from Sara's reaction to Gina that the 'let's fix you' language was so very wrong; because I could see Sara dropping out of the conversation. She had stopped making eye contact with any of us, and she acted like she wanted to leave the room as soon as she could.

Since I was seeing it a bit detached, I was able to react differently than I've done before. I said, "I can't imagine what that's like for you, how have you been holding up?" I gave her one of my favorite facial expressions - the Curious/Sad face. I use it on my kids sometimes when they are crying but I have no idea why.

It seemed to work - she snapped out of the blank stare, and reacted calmly. She felt her feelings and then moved on, and we were able to move on.

It was clear to me that Sara wasn't asking us to, "Please fix my husband's problem." She was expressing her feelings, saying, "I'm sad, and I want you to tell me that you hear my sadness."

What do you do if someone is complaining to you? How would you have reacted to Sara, or to Gina?

Janet

Crazy talk

What does it mean, the word 'crazy'?

People I've met seem to like the word, and use it often. Here are some examples:

A comment on a blog, "I stay away from the crazy ones."
A post on facebook, "I'm so glad I stay away from the crazy people."

When I hear this, I think it means, "I don't like and/or understand why you are doing the things that you do, so I'm calling you crazy to differentiate you from me."

I think I use the word to mean anyone I don't understand. To be 'crazy', then, would also mean it's someone I cannot have empathy for. That would mean, also, that it's really about me, and not about the other person. I lack the ability, skill or patience to empathize with their actions  - therefore they are crazy.

If I look at this guy, for instance. I find it hard to understand why someone would do this, so I call them 'crazy'.

Building up empathy means, to me, being able to look out at the world and not see a world full of crazy people. I continue to try to see it as a world full of people; people just trying to be happy and trying to live their lives.

Janet

A quick story

Have you ever met someone famous? Was it a good meeting? I would love to hear stories of your encounters. Please use the comments to share.

------

As a teenager I had a few odd jobs. Usually my job was 'be the cute white girl sitting at the front desk and answering the telephone'. For a few years though I did some office work at my father's store, bookkeeping and collections mostly. I loved helping out, and it gave me enough pocket money to buy tickets to some great summertime rock concerts. Good times.

My dad's place was in the village in New York City near Canal street, which was a half-hour walk from home.  Using my feet instead of taking the bus or the train gave me a chance to get some exercise, do some window shopping, and listen to some great tunes on my walkman.

One day I was zipping along my usual path; straight uptown on Broadway approaching the shoe stores that lined the avenue near St. Marks. A man was walking quickly toward me. He was crazy-pale white, wearing a grubby tee-shirt, a black jacket and tight black pants, which was fairly typical attire for 1988 in New York City.

He was walking so fast and I was going so fast that I only caught snippets of him, just tiny puzzle piece images. He was really skinny, I remember. I think I could have wrapped my hand around his ankles they were so small. As he passed me I caught a glimpse of long black hair draped sloppily over his face, a prominent nose, and a definite sway to his walk. It was more of a lope, actually, like his whole body went up and down as he took each long step; and he was moving along at a good clip on those teeny tiny legs.

Only after he passed me did the entire image of him come together in my mind, and I stopped. I know him. How do I know him? Who was that? Why do I know him? Was that...Joey Ramone?

I immediately started walking back downtown as fast as I could. "Was it really him?" I thought as I walked. Maybe it's not him. Maybe when I see him up close I'll see, it's definitely not him. He's moving fast, can I catch up to him? Should I be chasing him? All these thoughts came in a quick jumble as I tried to justify why I was now walking really fast away from home, trying to catch up to a guy who maybe, maybe was a member of the Ramones. "I have to know", I thought. I was literally running at this point and about to turn around, when all of a sudden there he was.

I scuttled up and said quickly (slightly out of breath), "Excuse me, are you Joey Ramone?", thinking again, "I have to know." He stopped. He looked at me, said, "Yeah" and I knew, I knew it when held his hand out, I knew it when I shook his hand, I knew it as I looked at his face behind his hair. I must have watched the movie Rock 'n Roll High School a dozen times in the past year, I was certain it was him. I shook his hand, he let go and slung himself away again. He was very quickly out of sight.

I stood there for a moment just letting the experience sit in my belly. Joey Ramone. He said "Yeah". Actually, the way he said "Yeah" was kind of like the rest of him, I reflected, long and drawn out with a bit of a twist in the middle.

I turned around and headed home, repeating the story in my mind so I could tell all my friends later; and now, I've told you. So I guess we're friends then. :)

Did you ever have one of those experiences that went exactly the way you wanted? Yeah, that was one of those times for me.

Janet