Your, Mine & Not Always Ours

Projection: the ability we all have to ascribe some of our own qualities, preferences or even circumstances to others. It can be a defence against owning aspects of ourselves or our lives that we find difficult. It can also be a more innocent result of reaching for or feeling a connection with others and assuming that we have more in common than we might.

I’m discovering that of all the areas where we seem to consistently (and often unconsciously) project our own circumstances and feelings onto others is around birth family mythologies, realities, stories and values. This actually makes some sense. After all, the conditions and dynamics of our birth families weren’t just a reality, they were Reality as we first encountered it in our lives. As small children we took our families to be The Way Things Are, like the sun and the earth and the air we breathe. We may have encountered variety later in our lives, but when emotional issues of family are front and center (arrival of a new baby, care of aging parents, marriage, divorce, family losses or celebrations etc.) it’s easy to forget that our family is not identical to others.

Recently, while taking a course with the Alzheimer’s Society one of the other women in the group was advised by the facilitator to include her mother in exploring all possible residences. The woman replied, “Well, actually, my mother really trusts me to know what matters to her and to narrow down the choices.”

I was mesmerized by the phrase, “my mother really trusts me.” I could not imagine ever thinking, let alone saying those words in my lifetime. It’s not quite as personal as it sounds (or felt for many years.) My mother doesn’t really trust anyone. But still, I sat in awe for a few moments, reminded that all families are not identical. Knowing this I remember that what works for one will not work for others, so comparative judgements or one-size-fits-all solutions are not helpful.

I remember the first moment in my life when I entertained the idea that all families were not the same. I was seven. My six year old brother, Doug, had brought his friend Tommy home to play after school. As we sat on the front porch Tommy suggested that we watch a television show. Doug and I hesitated. We wanted to watch the show but, as we explained, we would have to ask my mother if we could turn on the television. Tommy shrugged reasonably and told us to go ask her. We froze.

Doug shook his head emphatically and said, “I’m not asking her.”

I said, “Well, I’m not doing it!”

Tommy looked puzzled. “What’s the big deal?” he said. “All she can do is say no.”

Even as I stared at him in disbelief, I felt an opening, the whisper of awareness that something important was being revealed. Was it possible that some mothers said yes or no to requests without getting angry because you’d asked? And, if that was so, what else might not be ordained as The Way Things Are? I couldn’t see any particular immediate use for this insight but the audacity of just considering the possibilityopened a door to the notion of choice in areas I had considered as immutable as gravity.

Families are different- as are marriages and jobs, individual beliefs and health and circumstances. I’ve done it myself: assumed that another’s situation is more similar to my own than it is, projected my sorrow or my joy, my well meaning but possibly mis-directed support or less-well-meaning and not-as-hidden-as-I-would-like judgement onto someone else.

We do share a great deal. Often I can see how the other is another myself, a mirror of my humanness. But each other is also wholly other, with their own history, experience, and perspective, a Mystery to me. If I can hold both of these truths, I can give and receive love while allowing and claiming the breathing space for each of us to be ourselves, to find our own way forward, to live our own lives fully.

Oriah (c) 2013