Always Err on the side of Compassion

Always err on the side of compassion …

I don’t know who told me that.  It was around the time I was severely depressed.  Depression happened to me when no one knew what depression was.  I had two kids, a bad marriage, an absent husband, hostile in laws, no job and no friends.  Yup, that was pretty much all.  I may add two unsuccessful suicide attempts to the mix and self blame

“Stupid bitch!  You don’t even know how to end it well.  Can’t you get anything right?”

I was upset and was falling deeper into the morass, visiting tantrics, astrologers.  That is when I discovered meditation.  Maybe it was one of my gurus who told me that. And then to get out of the dark reality that I was living I began reading.  Mindfulness techniques, behavioral tricks, chemicals that make the brain happy, sad, angry and what not.  You know what they taught me?  They taught me a whole lot of stuff that looked awesome in theory.  I can have an informed discussion about what causes a person to hate or cry.  I know what chemical can trigger a panic attack or the tell tale signs of a tantrum waiting to occur.  It does not make me happier.

Always err on the side of compassion.  A simple statement that stayed with me.

I tried to apply it to everything in life.  In fact it has become my mantra.  Like all important things in life, it sounds easy but is so difficult to practice.

I have a friend who wants to diet, she wants to lose some weight.  She thinks she is dieting.  “I hardly eat anything,” she says every time we meet.  We met for coffee last Tuesday after work.  I ordered a black Americano and she ordered a cheesecake, a vanilla latte with extra cream and then we went and sat outside where she smoked five cigarettes while we talked. She was angry, depressed – the usual.  Kids who did not want to spend time with her, an indifferent husband, a lonely life.  I wanted to say “If you stopped smoking so much, gave up the sugar and cream, found a hobby you would be so much more interesting.”

I was judging her.

I was not erring on the side of compassion.

It is so evil and powerful, isn’t it – to judge.  Makes one feel like a powerful and angry god, withholding love and approval.  It also makes the judgemental person negative.  The negative feeling stayed with me, it made the blob of butter I put on my baked sweet potato seem like a huge slice of butter.  It made me feel worthless.  It caused me to skip my yoga session, “Oh what’s the point?” I said to myself.  And then I promptly accused myself of being lazy and pathetic.

Always err on the side of compassion.

My neighbour’s son is a brat.  Among the things he loves doing is peeing on my rose bushes.  Don’t ask!  I guess he’ll grow out of it and point that water spout in the toilet bowl some day.  Not that I’m holding my breath on that happening any time soon.  No one else in the family is that tolerant.  But then they haven’t had kids yet.

“Can you believe his behavior?!?  What a bad parent his mother is!  Why don’t you take it up with her!”

One of the women I met when I used to go for my meditation sessions wailed “Never mind walking a mile in my shoes. Try thinking a day in my head.”

The mother is young, barely 24 years old.  She is already carrying her second baby.  And she has no in-laws or support.  “He’ll soon get bored of doing that,” I said remembering the time I was that young and had no support to fall back on.

I got depressed that time.

Mind you, all this happened when we did not have treatments for depression, no anti depressants, no therapy.  Gosh!  Therapy was for the insane, not for people like us!  Isn’t that attitude so condescending and patronizing?

Suddenly, I was on the receiving end of so many unfair judgments and assumptions. When people asked how I was, I just lied and said “good,” because I was sure they wouldn’t believe me if I told them the truth. The truth was that all I wanted to do was sleep and not wake up.  15 hours, 20 hours, 40 hours of sleep and I would wake up wanting more.  Nothing worked.

I go and give time to certain self help groups, not enough to brag about, but some.  People have depression classified now.  Gluten free diet, leafy greens, yoga, running, anti depressants, meditation and therapy.  Oh wow!  Truth is that you can do everything right and still be depressed.  You can do everything wrong and still be depressed.

Psychomotor retardation can still happen.  It is the visible slowing down of physical and mental activity.  Or it may not, there are folk out there who are highly functional, with demanding jobs, family responsibility and are still depressed.

I don’t know what works for others.  I know what works for me.  I try to cast aside any judgment and validate others.  I try to get outside myself and help others believe in themselves.  I try not to break others down.  I don’t want to.  There are many in the real world who love doing that.  It may work for them.  It does not work for me.  For me compassion works.  I want to build others up.  And when I reach out and am kind to others, I find I become kinder to myself.

The blob of butter stays a blob.

Missing a work out session does not make me pathetic.  I can go for a walk that night instead.

And the compassionate me is happy in my own company and does not need validation from friends and family.

I stop being a needy bitch.

So I try to err on the side of compassion.  Whether it is in real life or in the virtual one.  Considering how the two overlap, the lines are blurred.  I find that the real self does show up on FB and Twitter too.  It should, we do upload significant slices of our real life virtually.

20th Feb was the day of #1000Speak for Compassion.  I am late but I am raising a voice for tolerance.

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