Describe Mrs phamphries love and worry for tricky
Answers
Answered by
0
It's a terrible thing, what she's been through; what she's still going through—it could come back at anytime."
A friend and I were at a party for M., who was celebrating her recovery from cancer. If worrying were an Olympic sport, my friend would show Michael Phelps a thing or two. She worries about herself. She worries about her friends. She worries about people she will never meet (note to Tom Cruise's children: She worries about you.)
article continues after advertisement
For my friend and millions of people like her, worry is a sign of love. It says that, even though I am okay, I am selfless enough to suffer vicariously for you. And isn't that the definition of love? Wouldn't it be uncaring not to feel terrible for others, given what some people have to deal with?
At the risk of giving worriers everywhere nothing to do, the answer is no.
Take the example of M., diagnosed with cancer. Let's say you love her. So what do you do? You call, you offer to help, you visit with chicken soup and DVD's and good cheer. You ask what else you can do, and M. says, "Nothing, thank you for asking. I have everything I need." You tell M. to call you if she thinks of anything else, and you check in with her regularly, sending little messages, aware of her just as you're aware of the other people you care about as you return to happily doing whatever it is you do. That's love.
Here's another version.
M. is diagnosed with cancer. So what do you do? You call, full of pity that you try to disguise but not disguise too much because you want her to know, after all, that your heart is breaking for her. You offer to help with her awful situation. You bring chicken soup and DVD's and so much worry that it fills the room. You ask what else you can do, and M. says, "Nothing, thank you for asking. I have everything I need." Nonsense, you think. She's pretending to be strong. With meaningful glances and pregnant sighs, you make sure everyone around you knows how absolutely terrible the situation is, and you spend every waking minute consumed by thoughts of M.'s unfortunate plight, hoping that other people you love don't have the same terrible experience, hoping that you don't have to bear the unbearable cross now sitting on M.'s weakened shoulders.
article continues after advertisement
Some people will defend the second version saying that it's more compassionate, that it's more human, and that seeing difficult circumstances without a negative emotional reaction would be an act of cold denial. To the contrary, I think that seeing life as you believe it "should" be or is going to be is the act of denial. Seeing life as it is is an act of compassion. And when you see life this way, it opens you up to be human in a way that is far more sustainable and kind.
There are compelling reasons to do this. First, worrying about others has a very real effect on your own body. The more you worry, the more you throw off the delicate balance of hormones required for health. The word worry comes from the Old High German word wurgen which means to strangle. Worrisome thoughts and their resulting feelings are a form of self strangulation. They not only strangle your emotions. They affect your physical life as well, and your ability to focus and get things done.
A friend and I were at a party for M., who was celebrating her recovery from cancer. If worrying were an Olympic sport, my friend would show Michael Phelps a thing or two. She worries about herself. She worries about her friends. She worries about people she will never meet (note to Tom Cruise's children: She worries about you.)
article continues after advertisement
For my friend and millions of people like her, worry is a sign of love. It says that, even though I am okay, I am selfless enough to suffer vicariously for you. And isn't that the definition of love? Wouldn't it be uncaring not to feel terrible for others, given what some people have to deal with?
At the risk of giving worriers everywhere nothing to do, the answer is no.
Take the example of M., diagnosed with cancer. Let's say you love her. So what do you do? You call, you offer to help, you visit with chicken soup and DVD's and good cheer. You ask what else you can do, and M. says, "Nothing, thank you for asking. I have everything I need." You tell M. to call you if she thinks of anything else, and you check in with her regularly, sending little messages, aware of her just as you're aware of the other people you care about as you return to happily doing whatever it is you do. That's love.
Here's another version.
M. is diagnosed with cancer. So what do you do? You call, full of pity that you try to disguise but not disguise too much because you want her to know, after all, that your heart is breaking for her. You offer to help with her awful situation. You bring chicken soup and DVD's and so much worry that it fills the room. You ask what else you can do, and M. says, "Nothing, thank you for asking. I have everything I need." Nonsense, you think. She's pretending to be strong. With meaningful glances and pregnant sighs, you make sure everyone around you knows how absolutely terrible the situation is, and you spend every waking minute consumed by thoughts of M.'s unfortunate plight, hoping that other people you love don't have the same terrible experience, hoping that you don't have to bear the unbearable cross now sitting on M.'s weakened shoulders.
article continues after advertisement
Some people will defend the second version saying that it's more compassionate, that it's more human, and that seeing difficult circumstances without a negative emotional reaction would be an act of cold denial. To the contrary, I think that seeing life as you believe it "should" be or is going to be is the act of denial. Seeing life as it is is an act of compassion. And when you see life this way, it opens you up to be human in a way that is far more sustainable and kind.
There are compelling reasons to do this. First, worrying about others has a very real effect on your own body. The more you worry, the more you throw off the delicate balance of hormones required for health. The word worry comes from the Old High German word wurgen which means to strangle. Worrisome thoughts and their resulting feelings are a form of self strangulation. They not only strangle your emotions. They affect your physical life as well, and your ability to focus and get things done.
Similar questions