Simple Is Not Always So

“The most exhausting thing in life is being insincere.” --Anne Morrow Lindbergh

I am having a difficult time keeping compassion in my heart.  At first when the insensitive, the insecure, the unaware or the dim-witted come into my path I have compassion for their plight.  However, given time I begin to feel the welling up of irritation, anger, frustration.  Then guilt sets in and an internal struggle ensues.

Shouldn’t I be beyond such ego-driven needs of reciprocity in relationships?  Who said ‘mutual benefit’ is a necessity in life?  Is anything like this even mentioned in our constitution?  I mean, what is more intimate than someone caring so much about you that they want to help meet your needs?  Contrary to popular opinion I do not believe chicken soup feeds the soul.  A small helping of authentic sharing sates my appetite.

For me reciprocity implies the other person is responding to my needs and I am being ‘heard’.  Not just listened to, but heard.  Someone cares enough about me to process what I have shared with them and in turn shows me that “you like me, right now, you like me!” with their actions.

Problem is when I put myself in a position to rely on such give-and-take in a relationship, this is when I have been the most disappointed.  In fact, relying on others to keep me safe, to help me through the tough times or to lift me over troubled waters have been the lowest points of my life.  When I reflect on my moments where compassion is replaced by ill emotions, I realize I am being insincere. 

The feelings of anger and frustration are direct by-products of the lack of honesty I have with myself in that moment.  Sometimes it is about me reliving old hurts and projecting them on another.  Sometimes it is about me not being direct with a person because I don’t have the confidence to do so.  Sometimes it is as simple as me not taking care of my physical self, so my mental and emotional selves are in a state of exhaustion.

I cannot keep compassion, at times, in my heart because I hold it there by force.  I still experience compassion as an emotion, and not as a state of being.  Then I beat myself up with the reaction of guilt.  Vicious, exhausting cycle.