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See those faces there, right up there glancing back at you full of a weary hope and tired conviction? That’s us, me and my lovely wife, and to put it simply, sometimes we get very, very tired.
We have a problem, you see, and it’s been said time and again that the first step into fixing what’s broken is to actually admit, out loud, that it is, in fact, broken. We have a problem, and I invented a new syndrome to define it, to categorize it into something that maybe one day will land itself in the DSM28 or whatever number they will eventually get into. Our problem is this:
Bomb Disposal Box Syndrome.
I don’t know what else to call it, don’t know how else to explain what I have noticed emerging as a trend of our behavior, the direction we’ve been leaning for so many people in our lives over the last few decades. This is what I came up with, probably on another day I was saddled with a cluster headache or a migraine.
We are—and I throw no one under the bus here, as I am not pointing any fingers at anyone, this is our problem, alone—the bomb disposal boxes for almost everyone in our lives. We wait, always on call with our giant suits built to give us a fighting chance to survive the blast, until people come to us with their explosives. We wait knowing it’s coming, knowing that we’re minutes, hours, days, or weeks away from being asked to once again venture into the fray and do our best to get their problems into the safety (for everyone else) of the giant steel box we carry.
We grab those ticking contraptions from their shaking hands, we clear everyone to a safe distance—just beyond the yellow tape that screams CAUTION—and we force it inside the gargantuan trap we’ve created. My hands on one side of the lid, Sarah’s on the other. Frantically, we do our best to diffuse, to protect ourselves by avoiding detonation altogether. We wipe sweat from our brow, we hand each other the wire cutters, we halfway squeeze on the red wires of the problem we were presented with before stopping, before realizing IT’S A TRAP, and then snipping the blue wire.
Sometimes, we’re right. Sometimes the bomb doesn’t go off and we save the day and we’re applauded and we humbly say “Just doing our jobs ma’am” to some elated bystander. Sometimes. Not often, just sometimes.
Mostly though, if I am painfully honest, it just explodes. Sure it goes off inside the steel box we’ve constructed around ourselves, but it goes off. Shrapnel flies, the great sonic boom makes pudding of our insides, and the smoke rises up through the cracks in the walls. Time and again, we get destroyed just for trying to help.
The real work comes after, but not for them, just for us. This is when we must heal, when we must wait, and wait, and wait to recover from the injuries sustained. Everyone else, all those we pushed behind the yellow tape just outside the blast radius, has moved on, has forgotten, has been kept safe. But we, we must recover from all that shook us.
I think we realized at the end of last year that we cannot do this, not this way, any more. We cannot survive the concussions we’re subjecting ourselves to, we cannot keep absorbing the detonations we run right towards in some attempt to always be what we’re always expected to be. It’s the oxygen mask on the airplane conundrum. The longer we keep allowing ourselves to be blown up, the less we’re ever going to be able to help anyone ever again.
So how do we, how do YOU if you do this too, achieve this? How do we step away from these tired roles we’ve been playing so long, without losing who we are, who we’re naturally inclined to be? How do we stay true to ourselves, without disintegrating our own energy, our own souls, in the process?
Here’s some ideas, some actionable tips, on how we (and you) should proceed:
Redefine our Roles - I think step 1 is just reflecting on why we are in this role to begin with? Why do we try to fix all the problems, why does everyone come to us? What are situations we take on too much? Start here.
Set Compassionate Boundaries - Sometimes, we have to say no. Sometimes we have to be honest with our own capabilities and learn to say “I can’t take this on right now,” or something even simpler like “I know I can trust you to tackle this.” Putting boundaries on how much, how often, how deeply you allow yourself to dive in can do wonders to protect your future self.
Is This Your Circus? - Ask this, every time, and if it’s not, assess with greater accuracy how involved you need to truly get. For big things for big people that you love in a big way, a lot of times it will be your circus too, but for all others, start again with step 1 and work your way down.
Ask Them Questions - Sometimes, the answer they need, they already have. We just have to ask the questions that let them find the truth. Ask them “what do you think about this?” and so often they’ll find the solution they were trying to get you to provide.
Detachedly Help - This takes a LOT of practice, especially for people like Sarah, but it IS possible to help without absorbing the entire blast. Help by not accepting the detonation, but still trying to diffuse. Run away before the explosion occurs. Live to cut more wires, for them, for others, for yourselves, at a later date. Help, but don’t give it all away.
Guiltlessly Say No - Sometimes, it just has to be a no. If you cannot get involved without hurting yourself or others, say No. With love, sure, but say no. Those who truly love you will understand, and if they don’t understand, perhaps they aren’t what you thought they were after all.
I’m sure I could sit here and come up with more, I’m sure I could find 10 more tips on how to keep yourself safe, but truth is, we’re trying to learn these too.
I just know we’ve been blown up enough, by enough people in our lifetimes, that our ears are still ringing and our hearts are still thumping and our hands are numb. It cannot continue this way, not if we want to truly be able to show up when it matters, for all those it matters to.
Sometimes, we have to walk away, sometimes, we just have to take shelter and wait for someone else to finally scream out:
FIRE IN THE HOLE.
We shelter them all
from the bombs they detonate.
We absorb the blast.
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