Compatibility
Will you accept me as I am?
It all started with a comment by a friend on Facebook. He suggested that the culture of some countries is not compatible with the Western (as in U.S.A.) culture. It got me thinking.
To me, compatibility is all about the ability to accept another way of being, however different it may be from my own. In this kind of relationship, there is a give and take, with an abundance of tolerance and patience while exploring differences and similarities. The key aspect, to me, is the acceptance of the other.
This is how the Cambridge Dictionary defines compatibility: the fact of being able to exist, live, or work successfully with something or someone else.
During this time of year when families gather and there is an expectation of attendance, many people, and an awful lot of HSPs, find that they dread going to these events. It could be for a number of reasons such as not getting along with someone or not having their sensitivity honored. Someone may be a vegetarian and either the vegetarian is not honored or the host is vegetarian and the guest is decidedly not.
Political and lifestyle differences drive families apart when they can’t see a way through the conflict. One friend is struggling to decide whether or not to attend due to the dislike one of the hosts has toward animals. They do not want animals in their house and are refusing to allow her dog, who is recovering from surgery, to be in a crate in another room so it can be monitored. She is presented with a choice: to put her recovering pet first or her family.
Personally, I don’t think that is a fair choice. I think it is petty and sends a message that she is not a valuable member of the family. The person causing a fuss is an in-law, so the blood relative is in a tight spot as well, having to choose between her husband and her daughter. No one should have to be in that position, especially during the holidays.
Whatever your beliefs or practices, this is a time for acceptance. It is a time to gather and remember why we love each other.
This week my mother-in-law visited for a few days. Our family gathered at my son’s house and we had a great time. The kids and their grandma played games while their dad sat watching at one end of the table and I did the same at the other end. I don’t know how it started, but he and I began “do you remember . . . “
We haven’t done that in a long time and I was surprised at the number of random memories I have filed away that remain so clear in my mind. They are rarely recalled yet remain so fresh. The mind is a wonderful thing.
It’s been over 10 years since their dad and I have been a couple, but we remain good friends and have always enjoyed each other’s company. We are very different people and he does not tolerate easily, but something about our combination has allowed us both to be highly tolerant of each other.
I think that is what made our marriage strong through our 25 years together and what continues to make our friendship strong. It was difficult when he first left. He struggled with the demise of our marriage and the implications of his choice and reasons for leaving. It took time for him to believe I was genuinely accepting of his new life and was not going to pressure him to return home.
I have always thought of myself as a very accepting person. When I was doing independent bookkeeping before we had kids I worked with a lot of clients other people would not touch. I was often asked how I could work with so and so. To me, these people were interesting and I enjoyed working with them. It was not difficult. Tricky sometimes, but not hard.
Part of the reason I was able to work with clients that others found challenging is because of my HSP trait and ability to decipher what my client wants/needs from me. Once I figure that out, I can tailor how I work with them to make it a smooth relationship. I think my high sensation seeking tendency fit in there as well, finding unique people has always been fun for me whereas others have a hard time with someone so different from themselves.
It has been interesting to hear grumbles here and there about so-and-so when I don’t see the complaint at all. It may be that I don’t get irritated by the same things as others, or I accept it and work around it. In a community or group, or at work, it may be possible to avoid those we don’t feel compatible with, but in a family that is a bit trickier. My heart weeps when I listen to fellow HSPs talk about difficulties in getting together with their families.
In some instances, it is feeling torn about whether or not to go. In others, it’s about managing time while there. To me, these holidays should not be difficult. This is a time for sharing, for joy, for rediscovering why these people are so important to us.
As I was thinking more about this I realized I am being hypocritical. I have been in the position of having the difficult relative and I made my choice and moved on. Perhaps because I was so certain of my choice, I never related the experiences of others with my situation, but it is similar.
In my case it was dealing with my aunt, my father’s sister, who lived a few hundred miles away from where my mom and I, my dad and my grandparents lived. I also had a family of cousins who lived nearby. Their dad, my uncle, was my dad’s younger brother. He ditched his family and went on to make a couple of others.
My grandparents were poor white people who struggled to make ends meet for most of their lives. As they grew older, during the years I knew them, they had finally found a niche and were making enough of a living to pay the bills. The scrappy Midwest and southern Midwest culture remained with them but was tempered by age and the diverse California town in which they settled.
Even though they had treated my dad badly as a child, he was loyal to them. He was the eldest son and that meant something in his family. Part of it was obligation, but my dad and his father had a quiet camaraderie that my grandmother couldn’t mess with.
It has always fascinated me that my dad was able to bootstrap himself out the poor white category and get settled firmly into a middle-class life. He chose to live with honor and left behind much of the scrappy pettiness his knew growing up. His siblings, however, continued to live as they were raised. A culture that was foreign to me and that I wanted no part of.
When my aunt and her brood would come to visit my mom would take a deep breath, paste on a smile, and go visit. I think there were at least six cousins that would come along, a few older and a few younger, with a boy my age. These cousins were so different from anyone I knew and I really did not know what to do with myself around them.
In some ways I was honored to be able to tag along, but when we’d get to the park and they would want to compete – push each other off the line – I was lost. As an only child, I did not understand the point of this. When all of the neighborhood kids got together we’d find an adventure or climb trees or play kick ball. There was never this level of one-upmanship and it was foreign territory.
How did my father avoid the trap of this legacy? With all the stories I’ve heard, I can see in my aunt the product of my grandparents’ parenting, but me and my local cousins did not end up that way. My mother’s culture being dominant in my life made a huge difference, but what changed my dad?
I’d like to think a big part of that is who he chose to associate with and the desire to better himself. Another part, I think, is that he was highly sensitive and more discerning in how he developed his character and who he chose to be. His sister likely felt comfortable with others like her and saw no reason to be different. The other two siblings, my uncle (one year younger than my dad) and my aunt (the youngest girl), did pretty much the same thing, finding comfort in people like them who weren’t too demanding of their behavior and presence.
My rough and tumble cousins got no sympathy from me. Everyone just seemed to put up with them and so did I. Having grown up with seeing my grandparents every week gave me something special they didn’t have, so I didn’t worry about their petty, confusing, competitions. I felt confident in my relationship with my grandparents and I knew we’d get back to our routine just as soon as these interlopers left town.
Years went by, my grandparents got old, my mom died, then my dad died and there was no one to help my grandparents but me and my local cousins. One of them had married and moved away, but the other still lived in the area. We would help with the shopping and the doctor’s appointments. Then one day my aunt showed up.
Everything changed. My aunt took over and we were no longer needed for routine shopping or doctor visits. She never allowed us to be alone with our grandparents and would answer for them when we inquired about their health and well-being. It began to get very uncomfortable.
It came down to the simple fact that if we wanted to see our grandparents we had to put up with our aunt. As time wore on, my aunt began to get sick of being stuck with her aging parent and started griping to the rest of the family. She had made her bed and now she had to lie in it. She wouldn’t let anyone else care for her parents so she had no choice.
Once her parents had finally passed she had a family get together and a lot of my cousins came. It was nice to see them and remember our grandparents together, but as I was leaving my aunt dropped the little bombshell of a comment having to do with my dad having another child!
That was the proverbial straw. I would not tolerate being treated like that. If she had something to say she should say it. Otherwise, be quiet. Don’t play games with me. I don’t do that and I refused to play along. I shrugged it off and drove away telling hubby I was never coming back.
I refused to continue having any kind of contact with her. This manipulative behavior, always trying to embarrass someone or cause someone to stumble in some way, to show some kind of weakness, was inappropriate and I was not going to tolerate it in my life and I was not going to expose my kids to it. It was simple and straightforward decision. I suppose that is what people feel when they say a relative is dead to them.
Somehow, I had forgotten that decision I had made all those years ago. When I see friends struggle with a similar situation or choice I feel for them and that anguish of choosing is right there in my heart with them. But when I made my choice there was no waffling, no what ifs and no, absolutely zero, regrets. For me it was the only choice I could make. There was no reason to remain in contact with someone who was not interested in a genuine relationship.
I feel uncomfortable being so frank about this, but this is what I experienced and if it can help enlighten others struggling with these kinds of relatives I am glad to speak up. I generally like most people I meet, so to have relatives that I consider to be so odious is almost shameful. How can my dad and I be related to them? Surely, they sprouted from different DNA than we did. How could we be so different?
One of my cousins, out of a sense of obligation, or perhaps curiosity, stayed in touch with my aunt and answered her phone when my aunt called. From her I learned that I was correct in thinking nothing would ever change. My cousin told me it is not worth talking to her. Just forget about her. How sad is that?
So now what do I say to my friends who find their parents less than tolerant or downright toxic? What do I say to the one with the step-parent that will not allow a healing dog in a crate in their house? What do I say to those whose political differences are unbearable?
It is excruciating, but we all must choose what we will accept and allow in our lives. The 26 year old son who lives with me has gotten to a point of completely disrespecting me, insulting me and mocking me. It’s a bit more difficult to follow my own advice when it is my son. But, I don’t care who you are, I don’t care if you are the president himself, I have no reason to tolerate being talked to and treated like that.
It is okay for me to have this boundary.
I will say it again: it is OK to have this boundary.
I am not obligated to subject myself to unfair, unpleasant, unethical and inappropriate treatment. I care about my well-being more than I care about a sense of obligation to these people just because they are called family.
Wow. Did I just say that?
I cringe when others say something similar. It feels like betrayal. Because I was an only child of a single mom and never really felt I belonged in any part of my family one of the most important things to me was to build a family in which I belonged and where I would always be accepted and loved. I have flipped it around and now look to the family that is mine and see that even here I am not safe. I may have to ask my son to leave because when it comes down to it I am more important than not kicking him out.
It’s a brutal reality and it cuts deep. I don’t want to have to make that choice, but I will if I have to. I thank my Thinking Decision Making trait for that ability. I may act like it is important to me how my choice affects others, but it is more avoidance of disappointing them and just not wanting to deal with the fallout. I have and can make tough choices when I have to.
I think many HSPs feel the way that I do. We would rather avoid making waves, or rocking the boat, or disturbing the way our parents want things to be. In an ideal world, we would all get along and be accommodating, but in this real world of mine, where my jealous step-sister cuts off contact and does not allow me to be in contact with my aging step-mother, I have to be realistic that people are driven by motives that are different than my own.
We may never know why we are treated the way we are, why our family members fail to respect our sensitivity, why my family fails to grasp the various faces of fibromyalgia in my life, but we do have the ability within our control to accept that reality. It is what it is and we don’t have control over how others think and see and feel.
We can only control ourselves. We can only really care for ourselves. For as much as we can see how good it could be if they’d just get what we are trying to show them, if they could just accept us as we are, if we could just call a truce to the political showdowns, we cannot make them feel secure enough to let go of whatever it is they hold so tightly that does not allow room for us, too.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we need to take care of ourselves first and foremost. We are our first priority. That is so counter-cultural and may seem selfish, but it’s not. It is logical. We can do nothing if we are not well. We need more attention to our care because our trait is woven so deeply through our being. If we become debilitated it is bad for everyone. In a sense, our true obligation is to caring for ourselves if we are to care for anyone in our family.
I violated this vital rule and ran myself into the ground. It resulted in a meltdown and some deep pain, feeling betrayed when my family would not acknowledge my debilitation was due to fibromyalgia. Why couldn’t they at least say they hear me? I am so careful about how I treat them, but they are not like me. They do not have that sensitivity and ability to process on that level and I asked too much of them. I hurt myself by demanding from them what I needed to give myself. Love, compassion and understanding.
And acceptance. I have to accept the hand I’ve been dealt. I am the only one that can truly accept and love who I know I am with all these new warts. It doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks if I can’t accept myself.
In the tough choices we make in the coming days, let us remember that our first obligation, our first loyalty is to ourselves. Choose wisely and choose what is best for you in the long run. Don’t pacify today only to pay for it tomorrow.
Merry Christmas! May learning to love yourself in a new way be the gift you give yourself! And may peace and joy find you in spite of whatever challenges you may face!