{"id":7085,"date":"2016-10-25T07:00:46","date_gmt":"2016-10-25T13:00:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/?p=7085"},"modified":"2016-11-03T07:14:16","modified_gmt":"2016-11-03T13:14:16","slug":"the-best-advice-for-loving-those-who-feel-it-all","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/2016\/10\/25\/the-best-advice-for-loving-those-who-feel-it-all\/","title":{"rendered":"The Best Advice for Loving Those Who \u2018Feel It All\u2019"},"content":{"rendered":"

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“Life is better when you open your heart<\/em>
\nYou don't always have to act so hard<\/em>
\nJust be as you are.”<\/em>
\n\u2013Mike Posner, Be As You Are\u00a0<\/em><\/a><\/p>\n

*name has been changed<\/p>\n

\u201cI had a terrible dream last night,\u201d I told my 10-year-old daughter Avery on a recent Saturday morning. \u201cI dreamed Annie* passed away.\u201d<\/p>\n

Annie is a seventy-nine-year-old old woman we met at a retirement home<\/a> last spring when Avery played her guitar in a music therapy session. Upon learning Annie had not had a visitor in years, Avery asked if we could \u201cadopt\u201d her. We\u2019d been visiting Annie for several months now.<\/p>\n

The news of my terrible dream caused Avery to abruptly cease her morning waffle-savoring process. She knew \u201cbad dream\u201d for me meant vivid images, tearing-from-your-bed panic, real tears, and racing heartrate. Avery knew my nightly dreams were more intense than my everyday reality.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d Avery said, her face softening. \u201cWe better go see her, Mama.\u201d<\/p>\n

It did not surprise me Avery knew exactly what I needed her to hear.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

On the way to the nursing home, we contemplated what Annie\u2019s disposition would be. Normally bright and cheery, there had been that one troubling time when Annie was hostile, agitated, and barely recognizable. Last time that happened, I\u2019d almost suggested we come back later. Before I could, Avery kneeled down in front of Annie\u2019s wheelchair and said, \u201cDo you want us to take you outside?\u201d<\/p>\n

Instead of giving us another angry \u201cwhat do you want!?!\u201d Annie whispered, \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n

I hoped Annie would be cheerful and awake this time. But if she wasn\u2019t, I would follow Avery\u2019s lead. She seemed to know what was needed in such situations.<\/p>\n

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When my daughter and I stepped off the elevator onto Annie\u2019s floor, we were met by the typical mid-afternoon scene at the nursing home. Lined up in wheelchairs along the hall were fragile residents slumped over like well-loved dolls. As we walked towards Annie\u2019s room, shaky hands reached out to us. \u201cStop and talk to me,\u201d their faces pleaded. We greeted each resident who was awake. Avery smiled brightly despite incoherent sentences and long-winded responses to the question: \u201cHow are you today?\u201d<\/p>\n

At the end of Wheelchair Row was Annie. Dressed in her favorite color, Annie slept peacefully in pink.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think we should wake her,\u201d Avery said. Noticing my apprehension, she added, \u201cShe would not want to miss our visit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnnie,\u201d I said softly. \u201cIt\u2019s your friends, Rachel and Avery.\u201d<\/p>\n

Annie woke up with a smile. \u201cWhy, hello!\u201d It was as if she had been expecting us. Maybe she\u2019d dreamed of us too. I thought oddly.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a beautiful day outside. Would you like us to take you out?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh boy, would I ever!\u201d Annie said excitedly.<\/p>\n

Avery and I worked as a team punching security codes, balancing doors, and steering small, uncooperative wheels until we were safely outside.
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\nAs usual, I asked Annie her favorite questions relating to Bingo, Elvis Presley, her mama\u2019s cooking, and her love of arts and crafts. Annie answered each question happily. Periodically, a butterfly flittered past as if adding to the conversation.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, Annie!\u201d I said pointing to the colorful insect.<\/p>\n

Like a child she giggled. \u201cIt\u2019s marvelous! It\u2019s just marvelous!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019s your arm, Annie?\u201d I asked knowing it often caused her pain. She immediately grabbed it and winced. The first time we met her, she told us she\u2019d fallen from an airplane. Although the nurses were skeptical about that story, it never changed.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt hurts \u2026 it always hurts,\u201d Annie said as she rubbed it. She told us again about falling from a plane, this time adding a never-heard-before detail. \u201cI was in the hospital for a long time,\u201d she said. \u201cI was under surveillance,\u201d she said secretively. Avery looked at me surprised. Like me, she wasn\u2019t expecting that word to come from this precious elderly woman\u2019s lips.<\/p>\n

Annie leaned forward as if to tell us something in confidence. \u201cThey kept a camera on me all the time. I couldn\u2019t leave. I couldn\u2019t go outside.\u201d Her eyebrows burrowed as if remembering something painful. \u201cI had an urge to leave,\u201d she said, \u201cbut they wouldn\u2019t let me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, that must have been terrible,\u201d Avery sympathized as I struggled with what to say.<\/p>\n

Annie looked up, surprised almost \u2013 and relieved \u2013 by Avery\u2019s response. Perhaps her pain and her story had been dismissed again and again and today she was finally heard.<\/p>\n

We pulled out the watercolor paints knowing it was one of Annie\u2019s favorite activities. I made a flower for Annie to paint inside. But after a few strokes, Annie handed the brush to me. I added her favorite colors to the picture.<\/p>\n

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\u201cWhat do you think?\u201d I asked Annie.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s absolutely wonderful! Just wonderful!\u201d Annie rejoiced, but she was not looking at the paper; she was looking at the blue sky above her head.<\/p>\n

Avery set down her own paintbrush and said, \u201cWould you like me to sing one of your favorite songs?\u201d<\/p>\n

Annie nodded and began to sing along as Avery sang, \u201cYou Are My Sunshine.<\/a>\u201d About mid-way through the song, a tear came down Annie\u2019s cheek. As she wiped it away, Avery kept singing.<\/p>\n

In a matter of forty-five minutes, this precious woman had experienced a gamut of emotions: child-like joy, intense fear, pain, relief, and sadness. I was intrigued by the way my daughter stayed steady through them all. Annie\u2019s swings of emotion and bouts of pain did not spring Avery into action, nor did they upset her or make her uncomfortable. They were just emotions, and Avery was willing to take them alongside her friend.<\/p>\n

I reached up and felt the exquisite gold charm<\/a> that hung from my neck. It was given to me at a recent speaking event in California. It was a handmade piece by a talented and grateful mother of a child with autism. The medallion read: \u201cI feel it all.\u201d When Dana<\/a> gave it to me, she said she knew I\u2019d understand.<\/p>\n

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She was right. Not only did I understand, I felt understood. \u201cI feel it all\u201d<\/em> are words I know well \u2013 sometimes too well. I\u2019ve always been highly sensitive, and for decades I tried to tone my feelings down, reign them in, toughen them up. But over the past few years, Avery has altered my perception of being a deep feeler. Her acceptance has helped me see my sensitivity as a gift and part of who I am. When I am moved to tears at animal shelters, churches, swim meets, and guitar recitals \u2026 when I am moved to tears by speeches of hope, stories of pain, well-written songs, horrible dreams, and beautiful sunsets \u2026 when I am moved to tears at inopportune times and inappropriate places, one daughter tries to fix or subdue before anyone notices while the other daughter says, \u201cIt\u2019s okay. Cry if you need to. That\u2019s just who you are, Mama.\u201d<\/p>\n

It did not surprise me that Avery was leery when I told her a reader of my blog thought they might be related to Annie and would be sending a friend to visit her.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not sure that\u2019s a good idea,\u201d she said skeptically. \u201cThey won\u2019t know how to talk to her. They won\u2019t understand her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d I asked curiously.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo just let her talk, even if it doesn\u2019t make sense. Don\u2019t try to correct her if she says she fell out of an airplane or dated Elvis. Don\u2019t try to stop her tears if she cries or try to distract her from her sadness,\u201d said Annie\u2019s advocate with conviction. \u201cJust let her feel what she feels.\u201d<\/p>\n

Just let her feel what she feels<\/em><\/p>\n

And as I do several times as day, I thanked God for this child who teaches me so much about loving others well.<\/p>\n

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Sometimes other people\u2019s emotions, struggles, memories, and grief are too much for us. Perhaps they make us feel uncomfortable or we feel helpless to \u201cfix it\u201d or we don\u2019t know what to say so we distance ourselves. But what people most need in their feeling moment<\/em> is for us to get close, stay steady, and let them feel what they feel.<\/em><\/p>\n

And with that, I want to offer a bit of validation to you, dear ones:<\/p>\n

First, to the feelers of the world:<\/strong><\/p>\n

We need you, those who feel it all<\/em>. Your visible emotion reminds us what it means to be human. Please don\u2019t wipe those tears; wear them proudly as your badge of honor. Your ability to feel it all<\/em> is what enables you to create words, art, music, organizations, and conversations that connect, unify, and strengthen us.<\/p>\n

Next, to the pain companions of the world:<\/strong><\/p>\n

We need you, those who sit with the deep feelers. To see, hear, and accept strong emotions without trying to fix them or push them away is a critical role. You are healers, encouragers, and light protectors who literally save a life each time you sit with someone else\u2019s pain.<\/p>\n

And finally, to those who are a bit numb, a bit out of touch with their emotions today:<\/strong><\/p>\n

If you suspect the feeling part of your soul has been suppressed, shamed, numbed, or dismissed far too long, today is a good day to rouse it awake and bring it into the sunshine …<\/p>\n

Look at the changing colors of the leaves on the tree; let gratitude for what has been and what is to come fill your heart to the point of tears.<\/em><\/p>\n

Watch your loved ones, young or old, doing what they do best; let your love for them spill out onto your cheeks.<\/em><\/p>\n

Look at your hands; recognize that they\u2019ve nurtured, sacrificed, worked, and worried. Let peace drip into those hands as you relish your quiet accomplishments.<\/em><\/p>\n

Notice your thoughts. How do you really<\/strong> feel today? Reflect on your memories. What is your happiest memory? What is your most painful one? Close your eyes and dream. What is your greatest hope for this day, for this one precious life?<\/em><\/p>\n

Feel it all right now, dear ones. Don\u2019t wait another day to let your feelings show.<\/p>\n

And if you fear you\u2019re alone in your tears, please know you are not. There is a young girl and an elderly woman singing a familiar song about life\u2019s joys and heartaches. Take a look. Along with a\u00a0wondrous sight, you'll see this beautiful truth: When tears of pain unite with a steady companion, hope is born. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Let\u2019s feel it all together, dear ones, and love each other well.<\/p>\n