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Musing on persons and perceptions and emotions
The same thing happens with all these people who come to see me, and take so much trouble over their efforts to describe themselves to me with strict accuracy; inevitably I form an image of them which derives as much from myself as from them. If they go and see one of my colleagues he will certainly not see them exactly as I do. And they for their part will not show themselves to him in exactly the same way as they show themselves to me. (Tournier, The Meaning of Persons)
As I typed that paragraph, I was surprised by its brevity, given the impact of its moment. The book was lent to me by C3 - one of the members of my parish discernment committee. My committee, for the record, discerned that though a call to the priesthood may be present, now is not the time. Among the reflections in their final report was the opinion that I present as emotionally disconnected.
On the one hand -- true. Absolutely. I have been a master of repression, and my frustration with the interference of emotions with "getting the job done" borders on contempt for those who allow it in themselves. Let me clarify that I do not find emotions to be inherently contemptible - only when they are so out of control as to prevent accompishment of a goal, whether that be getting a child to the emergency room or speaking clearly enough to communicate. My personal history has taught me that emotions are also a point of vulnerability, and showing emotion is tantamount to inviting mockery and derision. These, plus nine years of repressing my emotions in order to avoid confronting the spectacularly poor judgement I showed in choosing a husband, have left me in a state of emotional naivete. Only in the past five or six years have I started connected any kind of emotional to myself personally. It is a slow process, and I am blessed to have friends I can trust while I endure these growing pains.
On the other hand -- I am not completely destitute of emotion. I am not incapable of compassion or empathy. I have spent the last five or six years slowly thinning my emotional shields. I no longer keep my reactions so in check that I don't even yip in startlement. And I'm not sure if this is visible to people who don't live with me (or practically so).
I confered privately with each of my committee, as I plan to do again about each point in their report that raised questions in my mind. I told each of them that I don't think their assessment is wrong, per se, but I want to know how this characteristic is visible to them.
C1 answered that, being reserved himself, he was uncertain as to whether I was disconnected or simply likewise reserved.
C2 answered that the several papers I'd written for the committee revealed nothing emotional, that they were analytical and fluent and structured (almost to the point of formulaic), but that there wasn't any emotional depth. She perceived that my accounting of my life story was delivered as though it had happened to a different person.
C3 answered that I seemed more emotionally burdened by events of the past than one would expect if I was indeed certain of my absolution for my part in them. This last baffles me. Mostly because their report was supposed to be a consensus document, and I'm not seeing how C3's perception jives. It is with C3 that I've consistently had the most difficulty communicating, which surprises me because he consistently shows stunning insight from the pulpit.
In each response I see exactly what Tournier was talking about. C1 sees reserve because he is reserved. C2 sees analysis where she would put emotion and draws the conclusion that emotions are disconnected. C3 has spent a lifetime hearing confessions and relieving burdens and sees a past burden put forth in the present. "...[I]nevitably I form an image of them which derives as much from myself as from them."
On the one hand it's a relief, because it can't be helped. Everyone does it; I do it. Our perceptions are inevitably colored by our assumptions about the world - our schemas and paradigms.
On the other, it's very frustrating. I've spent a lot of the past several years introspecting, and I delivered to these three persons whose wisdom I respect the fruits of that labor and (speaks the petty and petulant side of me) they didn't respect me enough to take me at my word.
Nevertheless, I was given some valuable information about personal growth - which I was urgently seeking because of another point made in the same portion of the report: pastoral care requires emotional availability that I am not yet comfortable demonstrating to one and all, only those who've gained my trust over time.
Nouwen (The Wounded Healer) paints a rather bleak picture of priesthood, where one must repeatedly be vulnerable and therefore wounded and yet go forth and do and be the same day after day. He writes of resentment and exasperation as if they are a given, part of a package deal in ordained ministry. Maybe he's just a pessimist.
Either way, I do agree that my shields are currently too thick for effective ministry to a parish community. I'm still too wary, too quick to be defensive, too uncertain of my solidarity with the pain of others, too accustomed to believing I am the only one to hurt the way I hurt.
But honestly. Credit where it's due, people.
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My reply e-mails don't always work, so if you could e-mail it to me at loganj6@cc.wwu.edu , that would be great.