I’m Dysfunctional, You’re Dysfunctional is the title of a book pointing out how America has become a nation of victims. It’s a trend to blame our parents for our dys- functional behavior. When I was in college and just starting out on my own, I blamed my parents for having sheltered me too much. I had only lived on military bases and entering mainstream society was a shock. My par- ents diligently followed all the disciplined rules of the base. Like many young people tasting independence for the first time, it was convenient to blame anything I didn’t like about myself on them. Watching my college friends do the same thing, it didn’t take me long to realize that no matter what my upbringing (or perhaps because of my upbringing), I was responsible for myself. Today, I sincerely thank my parents for how they raised me and the example they set for me. I value self-discipline and the core values I learned.
In this stressful society, there is so much we all have to cope with; it’s easy to blame our problems on others. “Codependency” is a popular term today, applied to any problem associated with any addiction, real or imagined, that involves another person. In exploring codependency, many are trying to reclaim a sense of identity, power and balance so that they can stop feeling victimized in their own lives. It is easy to feel discouraged with ourselves
Uncovering Compassion
and that discouragement leads to more self-judgment be- cause we feel we “should know better” and “should have learned by now.” It may very well be true that dysfunc- tional families are incubators of shame, guilt, anger, denial and self-doubt. It’s not a child’s fault for having adapted dysfunctionally to a distressed family environ- ment. But it is an adult’s responsibility to release the blame and take on the self-work that will reshape their adult experience. Many continue to see themselves as adult victims of early family dynamics rather than as self- determining participants.
The victim scenario repeats itself in towns and cit- ies all over our nation and is a trend of our larger cultural environment, regardless of race, religion or socioeco- nomic status. We realize there are problems, but don’t know what to do about them. We fear dying young, but fear growing old. We fear not finding the right relation- ship, but fear we’ve found the right relationship. Here comes marriage, but we fear being tied down. We fear not getting a new home, but fear the stress of house pay- ments and upkeep. Nowadays we yell, scream and hate ourselves—internally beating ourselves up. What we do to ourselves is often times worse than what we blame our parents for. Usually, we don’t think to feel compas- sion for our families having done the best they knew how. Somewhere along the line we are accountable for our- selves.
Emotional energy turned inwards is our own per- sonal self-created hell—illness, violent relationships, drug
addiction, alcoholism, child abuse, compulsive eating, anorexia, depression and obsessions are the grim results. Yes, we pass our attitudes on to our children. The collec- tive hell turned outwards creates violence, gangs, crime, homelessness, war and starvation. Is our disease, indi- vidually and socially, an addiction to negativity and pain?
Grief
With all our pain, we retreat behind the prison many of us have erected around our hearts for self-protection. But we haven’t imprisoned anything but our pain. Grief is the iron bars that surround a heart in pain. As the mind plays tapes of grief, the real heart seems very distant. Grief is a state of mind that has turned its back on the power of love. It manifests as a deep feeling of being un- loved. To live in grief is to live in loneliness, cut off from the gift of life.
Sometimes life presents situations that cause a pain- ful shock to your system—bankruptcy, job loss, divorce, betrayal, death of a close friend. Grief occurs when you allow that shock to consume you. The mind keeps re- playing the painful experience again and again, building the power of despair as it goes. For example, when a loved one dies, you feel loss and sorrow. As we acknowledge and focus on the sorrow, grief results. But the tendency of the mind is to hold on to grief. Society encourages it. If you’re not grieving enough over the loss of your hus- band or wife, society judges you. If you’re not crying
Uncovering Compassion
enough at the funeral, you think people are looking at you disrespectfully.
The mind recoils at losing what it holds most dear. The tendency of the mind to hold on to guilt and fear, to cling to self-judgment and blame, is an aspect of grief. We become rigid with denial and self-protection, and sink into a feeling of “not enoughness.” Inside, we look into a warped mirror, created by the inharmonious frequen- cies of third dimensional thinking. Our self-image seems distorted, unacceptable, unwhole and unlovable. Our thoughts tell us we are unworthy and useless. What a living hell we have created for ourselves. Yet, we hold on—our grief has become a stimulus that gives at least some deeper feeling to life.
People often say they drink excessively to block the pain of grief. But often, it’s just a launching pad for fur- ther exploration of despair. They become pitiful so they can feel the anguish at a deeper level. Why this fascina- tion with despair? It’s because people have not learned how to reconnect with their heart power after a painful event has short-circuited the connection. To feel deep grief is better than not to feel at all.
Through the intelligence of your heart, you can re- lease the self-victimization paradigm that bleeds and drains the quality of life. The darkness of the helpless- ness and hopelessness can be illuminated by the heart, in a clear and merciful awareness. What seemed so un- touchable is reclaimable with the power of compassion.
The iron bars begin to melt. When heart contact is finally reestablished, it changes your perception. Through a deep willingness to surrender to hope, you can let go of grief and allow your heart to speak.
Some are able to release grief far more quickly than others. However long it takes, it is always the re-connec- tion with the power of the heart that moves you past grief. When the heart is enlivened again, it feels like the sun coming out after a week of rainy days. There is hope in the heart that chases the clouds away. Hope is a higher heart frequency and as you begin to reconnect with your heart, hope is waiting to show you new possibilities and arrest the downward spiral of grief and loneliness. It be- comes a matter of how soon you want the sun to shine. Listening to the still, small voice in your heart will make hope into a reality.