An Exploration of Hope and Paradox

Category: Codependency

Looking down your inner ear

A conversation about what happens when we lose outside perspective

Awhile back, I woke up one morning, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, set my earplugs on the nightstand, and immediately thought, “It feels like my ear needs to pop.” The feeling was reminiscent of having recently gotten off an airplane, but it had been months since I’d flown.

I’d gone to bed late the night before, so I decided I must just be extra tired. Whatever was going on would clear itself up as I got caffeine in my system and woke up. But it didn’t. Throughout the day, there was this small niggly feeling that my ear was plugged.

The feeling was there through meetings, during a conversation with my parents, and while I ate dinner. It persisted as I got ready for bed, and that’s when I picked up my earplugs and noticed something odd. One of them was missing the very tip piece. There’s no way something that size is lodged in my ear, I thought. The piece was small but compared to my inner ear, it was sizable.

I checked in the mirror as best I could, and there was nothing I could see—at least with the angle I could get at. I poked at it a bit and couldn’t feel anything in there. I would know, I decided. If an earplug tip was stuck in my ear, I’d be in much more pain than I am. I did a quick hearing test on myself. I can hear way too well to have anything lodged in there. I convinced myself that my ear was clear of obstructions and I would feel better in the morning.

After I woke up, it still felt off. And when a coworker started talking to me in the parking lot, I had to admit that my hearing was affected to some degree. I spent the morning debating as to whether I should leave work early and head to urgent care. Maybe I was coming down with something. When I told my manager, she offered to take a look. While it was a bit awkward to have my boss looking down my ear, it beat the alternative of heading to urgent care or waiting until later that night when someone else could take a peek.  

Sure enough, there was a small, gray, rubbery earplug piece sitting right inside my ear, just deep enough that I couldn’t see it or feel it with my finger, but not so deep that my manager couldn’t carefully retrieve it with tweezers. Looking at it once it was out, I was shocked that it hadn’t caused me more pain. As my ear got used to being clear again, I realized just how much my hearing had been plugged and how much discomfort this tiny piece of rubber had actually caused.

I share this story partly because I think it’s funny that I walked around for a full day and a half with part of an ear plug in my ear, but also because this is similar to what we often do in life. We walk around with pain, discomfort, disturbances and call them normal. We ignore clear signs of what might have caused our issues and say there’s no way they’re the root of the problem. We get used to the fact that we can’t hear and tell ourselves that our senses aren’t dulled.

I know I’ve done this before. I lost myself in an unhealthy relationship and worked to convince myself I was happy. When there was pain or discomfort, I told myself it couldn’t actually be caused by my relationship. If what I suspected was true, surely I would be in more pain. Surely things would be worse.

Metaphorically speaking, I let my hearing become so plugged that I couldn’t perceive sound advice. I got so used to the pain that I didn’t think it was actually that bad. I labeled large problems as small irritants that I was destined to live with. I continually told myself, it will be better tomorrow; it will clear itself up; maybe I’m imagining things. And I went on like that for years—walking around like things were normal, all the while carrying around broken pieces that needed to be removed.

With my earplug, I needed an outsider to tell me what was really going on. In life, we often need the same thing. We need someone with a different perspective who can see things we can’t. Even if it’s awkward or uncomfortable, we need to give them the space to take a good long look at us and say, “hey, you have something lodged in your ear.”

This can happen in many different ways. For me, the first outsider to get through was a stranger on YouTube who, having never seen my relationship, had all kinds of insight that spoke directly to my experiences. Their perspective and outsider knowledge allowed me to finally admit, “Something is wrong here.”

Later, a good therapist and a close friend who could look at my life without the blockers I had, helped me identify some of the other broken pieces I was walking around with. They helped me clear out some of the things plugging my hearing and get rid of leftover fragments that were causing me harm.  

For someone who can be fiercely independent, my earplug story serves as an important reminder. A reminder of why other people matter, of why I can’t do everything on my own, of why I need outside perspectives (from trusted sources).

There is a day when I would have likely tried to deal with the plugged ear situation on my own. Out of embarrassment or hesitation to ask for help, I would have continued to ignore signs that something was wrong. I might have gone another few days, inadvertently shoved the earplug piece in further trying to get it out myself, or wasted time and money at urgent care.

Accepting help not only saved me saved me a headache (or earache), it also allowed me to recognize what was really going on much sooner than I would have otherwise. And that’s why we have people in our lives—people we can trust. People whose perspective we value and whose insight we can rely on.

I wouldn’t have trusted just anyone to inspect my ear. I know my manager has good eyesight. I know she’s and cautious and wouldn’t poke around unnecessarily. Similarly, I don’t need outside perspectives and opinions from everyone who’s offering insight. Some people have their own blockers that may skew their viewpoint on my life. Some people won’t be respectful and will poke around in areas I haven’t invited them into.

That’s why it’s important to be selective in where we get out outside opinions from. When I was in that unhealthy relationship, listening to advice from the wrong people reinforced my own misguided outlooks and allowed me to continue ignoring real pain, real problems.

If you don’t have people in your life whose opinions you respect, whose perspective you value, work to build trusted relationships. Even if it to start it’s just with a therapist (or even a trusted YouTube stranger), look for healthy people who can see things you can’t. Then, as you learn who you can trust, grant those people access to peer down your inner ear and ask them occasionally, “do I have an earplug tip down there?”

The year we misunderstood narcissism

A conversation about acknowledging the real meaning behind the labels we use  

Recently, Politico published an opinion piece titled, 2022 is The Year We All Finally Got Tired of Narcissists*, and I had to read it because I too, have opinions on this topic.

Narcissism is a topic I’ve studied a bit over the past few years, and I think the term “narcissist” is one that is often misunderstood and overused. I get frustrated when I see it thrown around flippantly because calling anyone who has a shred of arrogance a narcissist minimizes what is a real and truly harmful mental disorder.

One thing the Politico article does well is to acknowledge that Narcissism is a spectrum and that we can all have narcissistic tendencies to varying degrees. It’s something I’ve believed for years but rarely heard talked about.

The other thing the article acknowledges is that narcissism can be a clinical diagnosis. And that’s where I deviate slightly from the author. I believe that the label of narcissist not just can, but should, be a clinical diagnosis. In other words, we need to leave the official label to professionals and stop throwing it around like we actually know what we’re talking about.

Since I’m not a therapist or psychologist, it’s not my place to diagnose someone with depression, bipolar, or any other form of mental disorder. So why would I think it’s okay for me to label someone as a narcissist?

Once we’ve studied the actual traits and behaviors associated with narcissism, I do believe that it’s okay for us to say someone is high on the narcissistic spectrum. In fact, it’s not just okay. It’s important. It’s important because narcissism is much more than suggested in the Politico article. It doesn’t just affect celebrities and high-profile figures, and it’s much more complex than wanting attention.

Being able to spot narcissistic traits is not about writing off people we don’t like or finding an excuse to label others as bad. Honestly, it’s about protecting ourselves and using wisdom when we engage with others.

And that’s where I disagree with the Politico author a bit more. I get that this is a short opinion piece, and they can’t cover everything, but I think they’ve left out some important aspects of the conversation.  

The article talks about the narcissist’s constant quest for eyeballs and acclaim, and it points to examples like Harry and Megan, Elon Musk, and Ye. Are these people narcissist? Maybe. Again, it’s not my place to diagnose. Several of the people listed in the article are certainly high on the spectrum. There’s a reason their names are brought up in the conversation.

What bothers me is that the article seems to focus primarily on a desire for attention and public recognition, as if only those who thrust themselves into the spotlight can be narcissists. There’s also an implication here that the reason we’ve gotten sick of them is because we’re tired of the spectacle these people make in the media.

Take for example, this quote: “For the worst of it, see Ye, whose perennial need for attention has evolved from outbursts at awards shows to wearing ‘White Lives Matter’ T-shirts and making antisemitic comments on podcasts.” What Ye did was undoubtedly inexcusable, but to call that the “worst of it” and then hold up Elizabeth Holmes and Sam Bankman-Fried as simple “cautionary tales” is to misunderstand the true danger of narcissism.

The true danger of narcissism, in my personal experience, is not simply the self-grandiose thinking and need for attention that could lead someone to make harmful and abusive statements (thought that’s part of it). The true danger is the ability and willingness to lie, manipulate, gaslight, and deceive. That’s what we see with Elizabeth Holmes and Sam Bankman-Fried.

Again, I’m not here to call them narcissists, but since the Politico article brought them into the conversation, I will agree that that they exhibit narcissistic traits. In my opinion, they exhibit some of the most dangerous narcissistic traits in their ability to deceive and manipulate on a grand scale and still not fully recognize or acknowledge what they did wrong.

The article also uses a great deal of real estate to talk about Harry and Megan, and it’s clear the author is bothered by the way they seek the spotlight. I’ll be honest that I don’t follow them enough to have a strong, educated opinion, but I was surprised to see them on this list. With some people who are in the spotlight, I believe there is more going on than what we see.

Seeking (and seemingly loving attention) might place someone on the spectrum, but it doesn’t necessarily make them a narcissist. For Harry and Megan, capturing their private moments or asking for millions of dollars for a book deal could be simple business savvy, as opposed to narcissism. Not to mention, Harry was born into the spotlight. While he’s left the royal family, there is a degree to which the spotlight will always chase him. The things he and Megan are doing could simply be an attempt to ensure the spotlight thrust on their family is as accurate as possible.

I mention this because it’s another reminder that we must be careful when and how we use the term. And I think it’s important that we acknowledge not everyone who seeks the public eye is a full-blown narcissist. Similarly, not all narcissists are in the public eye.

That last piece is critical for us to acknowledge. While we’ve seen the damage that can be done by individuals like Elizabeth Holmes and Sam Bankman-Fried, what we really need to look out for is people in our personal sphere who exhibit strong narcissistic tendencies.  

That sentence may sound ominous or fearmongering. That’s not my goal. My goal is that we acknowledge the fact that narcissism is a spectrum, and we could come across people in our personal lives who are high on that spectrum. At best, those people will be annoying and obnoxious. At worst, they’ll be manipulative, deceptive, and ultimately, dangerous.

That’s why this conversation is important. Having this conversation can help us protect ourselves and our children. It can help us spot individuals in our families, workplaces, and social circles with whom we might need to set boundaries (or possibly disengage completely).  

But first, we must understand what narcissism looks like. Again, the “narcissistic” label should never be used simply to write off people we don’t like or would rather not deal with. While I’ve studied narcissism for personal reasons, I am by no means an expert, so I’m not going to attempt to cover the characteristics in detail here today. Instead, I’d rather point you to a few of the professionals whose knowledge I found helpful.

If you truly want to understand what narcissism looks like, I’d encourage you to take a peek at these or similar resources that unpack how these traits actually play out. Simply Googling something like “top 10 traits of narcissists” will get you a nice, tidy list that barely scratches the surface. While moderately helpful, these lists miss some of the manipulative techniques used by those who are high on the spectrum and, in my experience, can lead us to think people we’re engaging with couldn’t actually be narcissistic.  

I think it’s important to include a note that we must always remember grace in these conversations, because none of us are perfect. If our goal in labeling someone narcissistic is anything other than calling a spade a spade and protecting ourselves and our loved ones, then we need to check our motives.

There is grace for even the clinically diagnosed narcissist who has caused personal or large-scale harm. But extending grace does not mean that we don’t set boundaries. It doesn’t mean that we don’t protect ourselves. (For more on that topic, read this 2021 post, Using Someone Else’s Shower.) I will always champion and encourage healthy boundaries and self-protection. Recognizing narcissistic traits can help us identify when we need to set those boundaries and understand the best ways to protect ourselves.

*If you’re curious, here is the Politico article. Read it with a grain of salt. It’s not wrong, but it is an opinion piece that, in my estimation, misses important parts of the conversation and attempts to diminish narcissism to a simple desire for attention and fame.

Photo by Caroline Veronez on Unsplash

Watching people nearly drown

A conversation about what it really means to love

Awhile back, I saw a quote on Instagram that gave me pause. It showed the words, “Don’t cross oceans for people who wouldn’t cross a puddle for you.” But those words were crossed out with a big X, and below that it read: “No. Do it. Do cross oceans for people. Love people, all people. No conditions attached, no wondering whether or not they are worthy. Cross oceans, climb mountains. Life and love, isn’t about what you gain, it’s about what you give.”

I struggled when I read this. Partly because the grammar and punctuation are off, but mostly because I desperately wanted to agree. In principle, I do agree. Or at least I think I do. I’m re-examining what I believe about compassion and generosity, and I think that’s why this quote gave me such pause. 

This belief—or at least a version of it—has gotten me in trouble. It’s caused me pain. It’s been one of my excuses for causing pain to those close to me. And I know I can’t blame this belief exclusively, but the idea of giving with no holds barred has contributed to loss of self-esteem, sanity, peace, possessions, and finances.

So, when I read this quote on Instagram, my gut wanted to agree with it. But as I was getting ready to hit the little heart in the lower left corner, my mind said, “Hold on a second. Can you really love that quote? Doesn’t that go against the narrative you’re learning to live? The one where you have boundaries and don’t let yourself get taken advantage of?”

I’ve spent some time thinking about this now. Trying to reconcile my beliefs about loving others the way Jesus would with my beliefs about setting boundaries and practicing self-care. And while, as always, I’ve left room for my understanding to evolve, here’s what’s helping me now:

In essence, the quote hits on a core belief of Christianity that I agree with 100 percent: Love everyone, no matter what—even if the subject of conversation is a disrespectful coworker or Ted Bundy.

The thing I believe is missing from the quote is context—and maybe a disclaimer or two. What we need to keep in mind is that loving Bundy looks very different than loving the single mom next door, which looks different than loving the homeless man outside the gas station, which looks different from loving your brother or sister.

A wise woman who has done the work on her own codependency told me, “Sometimes love means letting people hit rock bottom.” It might not look, or even feel, like love, but that’s the point of this conversation.

Maybe some people can hear quotes like the one I shared and automatically understand the different contexts. I’m analytical, so I had to pick it apart—spell it out.

I was taught to love; to share; to give. And it’s in my nature to want to help when there is a need in front of me—be it financial, physical, spiritual, or emotional. I like taking action, and I have a hard time not doing something if I know there is something that could, or possibly should, be done.

This type of thinking leads me to interpret quotes like the one shared here as basically saying:

“Paddle your ass across the ocean for someone who may not care that you’re doing so. Heck, swim across the ocean naked in icy cold water if you need to. Fight off sharks if that’s what it’s goanna take. Climb the mountain to get to them no matter what—even if your energy and food supply are low. Climb the mountain or die trying. Don’t stop to evaluate what you’ll lose or the price you’ll pay. Don’t stop to evaluate whether or not the person wants to be rescued. They can’t make it without you and you’re somehow responsible.”

Of course, written down like that, it sounds a bit extreme. But I operated with a mindset like this one for the first 30ish years of my life. And I have a feeling I’m not the only one.

After all, it was Jesus who said, “greater love hath no man than this, that he laid down his life for his friend.” And then, he demonstrated this.

When we look at the whole of Jesus life, we don’t see someone who was consistently climbing up mountains for people who didn’t want help. We don’t see someone who made himself responsible to immediately fix every single problem for every person he interacted with.

Instead, we see someone who was able to hold the dichotomy of being the Savior of the world, while also not forcing salvation on anyone.

Jesus died for Judas too, but he didn’t try to chase him down and keep him from committing suicide. He forgave Peter for denying him, but he didn’t coddle him or pretend like it was okay.

Dismissing Peter’s actions or forcing Judas to accept forgiveness would be codependent. Thankfully, Jesus isn’t codependent. And because of this, we can learn from him. We can take notes from how he interacted and apply that to our relationships with others.

Jesus healed people who came to him, but we don’t see him barging into houses and saying, “I’m here to fix you.” When Pharisees like Nicodemus asked for help understanding, he was honest and offered hope. But he didn’t try to shove that same message down the throats of Pharisees who weren’t ready to receive it.

Going back to the oceans and mountain metaphor, Jesus didn’t swim and climb to the point of exhaustion. He also set boundaries. He withdrew from crowds. He spent time with God, his father. When he needed food on the Sabbath, he picked grain and ate. He put Peter in check when his words were not beneficial. He didn’t let all disciples join him for every adventure.

Jesus knew that boundaries were essential, and he understood that love is contextual. The quote from Jesus is “greater love hath no man…” and so to understand that quote, we must also understand love.

If Jesus is the greatest example of love and even he set boundaries, then love leaves room for boundaries. In fact, I’d argue that it necessitates them. Boundaries are what will keep our love from becoming codependent.

If we go back to the quote that bothered me—the one about mountains and oceans—it also mentioned love. And I think that’s the key. When I read this quote with a broken understanding of love, I think it’s compelling me to give until I have nothing left. To take on other people’s problems—even if they don’t yet recognize them as problems or want help. Even if I’m not  currently equipped to assist them.  

What I think we as humans often fail to understand is that sometimes, love means not climbing the mountain. Sometimes, love means letting the other person nearly drown and hoping that in the struggle, they’ll learn to swim. Sometimes love means waiting for them to ask for help or telling them they’ll have to wait while you put on a life preserver and get some fuel. Sometimes, it means recognizing I don’t have the solution or the resources to fix things, but maybe I can just listen. 

It sounds harsh to say we might need to let someone nearly drown, but that’s why it’s critical we recognize that love is contextual. Jesus didn’t respond the exact same way to every person he came across, and as I mentioned earlier, he also didn’t force anyone to accept his help.

Like I said at the beginning, this is one I’ve been struggling with. Struggling because I’ve done it wrong and I want to learn to do it well. I’ve called codependency love. I’ve tried to fix people’s problems without setting boundaries to protect myself. I’ve been so frightened at the thought of someone drowning that I’ve haphazardly thrown life preservers their way. The preservers may have kept them floating, but my actions didn’t teach them to swim—or help them reach the shore. 

For me, learning how to love well is a daily process, but I do believe that the most loving thing we can do is to stop before we respond to any situation and ask God what is actually needed. He understands the context, and he’s the author of love.

Photo by Blake Cheek on Unsplash

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