The Dry Years

A combination of today's crappy weather and reading "East of Eden" inspired today's blog...

"I have spoken of the rich years when the rainfall was plentiful. But there were dry years too, and they put a terror on the valley. The water came in a thirty-year cycle. There would be five or six wet and wonderful years when there might be nineteen to twenty-five inches of rain. Then would come six or seven pretty good years of twelve to sixteen inches of rain, and the land would shout with grass. And then the dry years would come, and sometimes there would be only seven or eight inches of rain. The land dried up and the grasses headed out miserably a few inches high and great bare scabby places appeared in the valley...And it never failed that during the dry years the people forgot about the rich years, and during the wet years they lost all memory of the dry years. It was always that way." ~ East of Eden by John Steinbeck

So where is your marriage right now? Is it in the wet years, where love is warm and plentiful, and your marriage is getting plenty of rain? Or is it in a dry spell, where there is a lot of conflict, no connection, and a lot of resentment? And our human nature, as Steinbeck mentions, is to focus on where we are RIGHT NOW instead of being able to wistfully remember the wonderful times, especially when your marriage is in danger of drying up completely and slowly dying.

Let's focus first on the wet times. Ah- that's easy. You are in love, enjoy each others company, cherish and appreciate each other. Or perhaps you are in the medium-wet times where things are good, and life is status quo. Easy to enjoy, right? And not think about the dry times? This can be dangerous, because it can lead to complacency- which is not a good place to be. I don't want to suggest that you not enjoy the wet times, but rather that you take time out occasionally to appreciate the rain. Remember the dry times (briefly) and how far you have come, and how you got out of that dry time. Recognize the hard work and time that having a great relationship entails.

The dry times are harder to turn around. If you are in a dry spot in your relationship, take the time to think about what the wet times were like. What was different? What were you doing differently? What did you take the time for? How did you show each other love, respect and appreciation? What were your priorities and values? How have you weathered difficult times in the past? Those people are still there, hiding under a dusty veneer.

This cycle is very normal. We cannot sustain the high energy and passion of being in love forever. And then you add children to the mix, and scientifically, marital satisfaction takes a big dip. But it can come back up- if you focus on your strengths and successes together as a couple. Take some time today to think about how you can water your marriage.

Empathy-- what is it?

The definition of empathy: Identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings and motives.

A lot of people seem to think that in order to empathize, they must know how the other person is feeling. But what are the TRUE odds of that? No two situations are exactly alike. Can we really put ourselves in other peoples shoes? Or is it just enough that we TRY to do that?

Two weeks ago, my husband had a heart attack. There, I said it. Very scary, and completely unexpected. My husband is young, healthy, eats well, is active and has no family history of heart disease. Yet there he was, having an angioplasty.

Now that we are starting to come out on the other side, we can reflect on the experience and what it was like for everyone. We have been so blessed to have such amazing support and help from friends and family. The hard part is that you generally encounter peopl who struggle with empathy, likely because they never learned how to do it in their own families. Or they are narcissists (which is a whole other blog).

At any rate, I wanted to share my own ideas about empathy and what empathy is NOT.

Empathy is not saying "I know how you feel". No, you don't. Or no, I don't (when it is someone else). Unless your situation is 100% identical (which in this case, I can think of two people that I know who know what it is like to be facing the potential of being a widow with two small children), which is rare, you don't know how I feel. In the same way that I don't know how my husband felt to be the one going through what he was dealing with. Saying that you know how someone feels can come across as very condescending or dismissive. It is often something people say when they don't know what else TO say. And it shuts people down.
So what would be helpful? You can ask how someone feels. You can likely relate to a time in your life when you too felt sad, helpless, angry, scared, hurt... and that is helpful. My friend Kelly says, "How does it feel to be you today?" Beautiful.

If this is hard to do, it is also OK to say that you don't know what to say. Sometimes there are no words that are appropriate at that time. This doesn't mean that you aren't being empathetic. This doesn't mean you are less of a person. This simply means that you haven't been in that same situation- and you can still be there to listen, support or offer help to that person. Ask what it's like. Ask what they need. Don't assume that you know, or try to one-up with your own story. If you do have a story that is similar, ask permission to share it: "I remember when we thought my husband was having a stroke. I felt very helpless and anxious. Is that how you feel? If you would ever like to talk more about what was helpful for me, let me know".

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares." Henri J.M. Nouwen