Kindness and Power - When Kindness Doesn't Work

"Be kind to one another."

Right? I love Ellen Degeneres, she has a heart of gold it seems. This saying is her signature closing to each episode of her talk show. And I agree with her - being kind to others makes the world a better place, and is a perfect way to share the love God gave us with others. But what do you do when your kind acts are met with disdain, or worse - rejection? How do you continue to be kind?

Caregivers give. It's in the name. We like to take care of people. We enjoy being kind and helpful. We thrive on it. As a nurse, I always found that kindness could break down walls. Underneath the walls that people put up were usually feelings of fear, loss of control, or shame. By offering kindness, I could also offer them peace (your needs will be met), worthiness (you are worthy of care), recognition (I see you and what you need), and humility on my part. This was true not only with patients, but also co-workers, doctors and managers.

Growing up, kindness was never guaranteed at my house. My mother and I have not been friends since I developed a sense of self at 13 years old. I didn't understand then about narcissism, or how it could damage a relationship and psyche. I did realize as a teenager that I did not feel heard, loved, or respected for who I was. I had all those feelings that my patients had: fear, loss of control, and shame. Acts of kindness on my mother's part were often veiled attempts to control something, or an acknowledgement of compliance. They were given freely to people she valued - friends, coworkers, people who acknowledged her as successful or special - until behind their back, she complained about them for some reason. I knew this wasn't right, but I was at a loss to figure out why.

What my mother considered to be kindness and care for her child, felt more like control and disrespect to me. And so we entered into a relationship that was no longer centered on common goals, shared experiences, or love. Instead it was about power, and kindness fell away in the rubble. In its place was animosity, resentment, and disdain. I tried to put a hedge around my heart to protect me from the words that cut so deep, exuding disappointment while verbalizing gratitude. Who knew a "thank you" in the wrong tone could send you reeling?! I learned to do what she asked in order to avoid major battles, while hiding my true self. At the same time, I found blessed acts of kindness at my friends' homes, which served as a model for my own parenting practices. Words of affirmation from other people, and affection, led me farther away from "home" both physically and emotionally, so I could find safer places with kindness, peace, and love. Not all of those choices were good ones, but God seems to protect fools.

I have come to believe that offering genuine acts of kindness is actually powerful, but has powerlessness and vulnerability at its core. It requires relinquishing control: I am giving up doing something for me so I can do something for you. Or, I am asking for something, knowing my request may not be met, hoping and trusting that you will help me out of kindness. That is a place of vulnerability. By accepting a random act of kindness, you are relinquishing control of the situation. If my granddaughter offers me a dandelion, I take it, every time, even though I'm allergic, because she's offering it to me from a place of kindness and vulnerability. Same goes for the yucky McDonald's food my grandson shares. If you reject the gift, the gift-giver feels rejected. And it's actually a power play so you can maintain control of what you have (or do not have.) I'm learning this myself, because this caregiving thing is a pretty powerful mirror sometimes.

An example: My mother has never been good about asking for help. If she needs a glass of water, she says, "Do you want to get me some water?" I didn't realize until recently how odd this was. My instinct is to stop what I'm doing and get if for her, and say, "Sure." Aannndd then feel resentful. But recently, I've come to see that this is really a "question" with an underlying power grab. She isn't asking for water, she's telling me what I want to do. (Not "I'd like some water," but "You want to get me water.") That's why I feel resentful - I'm being used. When she says, "Do you want to [do this for me]", I've started saying, "No, I don't really want to do that right now. But I will if you need me to." This infuriates her! Of course I'll get her the water, or whatever, and I'm happy to do it. But that's not the point. David and I are trying to get her to re-word her requests into actual questions, ending in "please." By doing this I've encouraged her to consider how she asked for something she needed, and to accept an act of kindness as an actual act of caring, versus a demand veiled in a request for kindness. (In another blog I'll address her inability to ask for help, because that's another whole big issue for narcissists.) She showed her vulnerability by asking for something she cannot get for herself, and allowed her caregiver to feel powerful by offering an act of kindness in fulfilling her request. BOOM!! Everyone wins!

Think about the last time you did something kind for someone that was well received. What was in your heart? Are you smiling? Did you feel stronger, happier, and stand a little taller? That's the power of love and kindness. Professor David W Orr says,

“The plain fact is that the planet does not need more successful people. But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers and lovers of every kind. It needs people who live well in their places. It needs people of moral courage willing to join the fight to make the world habitable and humane. And these qualities have little to do with success as we have defined it.”

As a nurse, assistant, and mom, I was told that I was pretty good at being kind, and that was something I was always proud of. I definitely felt more joy and power over my life when I was kind more often. And I strive to be that way with my mom. I just wish she would understand how much I like being kind to her, and receive my acts of kindness with true appreciation. If she did, I might not find myself struggling to be kind with her. Do you struggle with being kind? Do you recall a time you made a difference for someone just by being kind? Let's chat about it and encourage each other!