My friend Karen and I hike the woods most mornings, accompanies by one of my dogs. Inevitably, or conversations start with something like, “I was listening to a podcast and … “We listen to a lot of podcasts. So, Karen was listening to a podcast when one of the hosts, in her 20s or early 30s, said something about how she dreaded the death of her parents. “I won’t be able to handle it,” she told her guests, a therapist. To which the therapist replied, “The you that you are now won’t handle it. You’ll be a different person then. That person will handle it.”
We forget that, don’t we? For the most part, we change so incrementally from one day to the next. We’re different today than we were yesterday. We’ll be different again tomorrow. Barely noticeable, if at all. But other days, we know well, the changes are dramatic. Those are the days when we’ve had "News”. Our mother died. We got the job. Our child was in an accident. We found out we’re pregnant. Our spouse cheated. We got fired.
Doesn’t matter whether the “News” is good or bad. In an instant, we’re changed. And the “you” you were is gone.
When the “News” is bad, it’s easy to not like this new person who’s suddenly here. This new person cries a lot, can barely get out of bed, avoids showering. Maybe this new person feels numb. Or furious. Or vengeful. Rarely do we see this new person, who’s just received, perhaps, the most devastating news of their life, as worthy of love and compassion. As deserving of deep comfort. And yet … this “you” can be all those things. Angry and deserving of love. Vengeful and worthy of compassion. Unshowered and oh-so-lovely.
If I could time travel back to when I was dealing almost simultaneously with the sudden death of my mother alongside the utter shock of discovering my husband’s betrayal, I would be so much kinder to myself. I would lower my expectations of that former “you” to the basement. I wouldn’t berate that person I was for not being able to concentrate at work, I would applaud her for getting out of bed at all. I would celebrate her strength, her shattered heart.
But, of course, I’m also a different person than I was those 20 years ago. The you I was then taught me what I know today. The you I was then, the furious, devastated you that I was is the reason that today, I can extend that retroactive compassion. The reason I hold some wisdom, such as it is. The reason I’ve been able to rebuild the marriage I have.
We each have to figure out who we are on the other side of the “News”, on the other side of loss and betrayal and grief. We thought we would never survive the “News”. We didn’t. Not our old “you”. But this one is here now did. And is equipped with what we need to get through this, especially if we fortify this new “you” with compassion and love and support. You are going to amaze yourself. Really.